#(i get food and water. sunlight on weekends)

[listerbirdloml]

hiiii here’s a little updated about me :)))

my name is sarah but i’m not fussed for whatever name you want to use, i’m 20 and have an ongoing stalker case against @catboylister

i mostly post about IWBFT but im unhealthy about loads of things, mainly: MDZS, epic the musical, hunger games, PJO, hozier, taylor swift, voltron (against my will), and red dead redemption to name a few

always feel free to send asks/DMs :))

oh and i wrote like one lister bird fanfic idk if i’ll write more who knows

[geminiwritten]

cowboy ; jake 'hangman' seresin

fandom: top gun

pairing: jake x reader

summary: the squad are sick of you and hangman pining after each other, so they set you up with the cowboy hat rule - 'you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy' (i know it's never specified but because glen grew up in texas, i'm applying that to jake)

notes: i am literally posting this while at work because i am so excited! i'm actually pretty proud of this one right now, so i'm trying not to second guess it and keep rereading it... i really hope y'all enjoy! please let me know all your thoughts! (in case you can't tell, i'm currently reading elsie silver's books)

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption / drunkenness, mention of a student/teacher relationship, and general horniness but no actual smut (i'm sorry, it's already so long)

word count: 10667

You roll your lips as your eyes wander across the faces of your friends, each of them expressing varying degrees of excitement as they discuss the upcoming celebration for Javy’s birthday this weekend. It’s been a good week for the dagger squad, and even Maverick has managed not to piss off the admiral in almost five whole days. Everyone is holding their breath, praying he can hold off for the second half of the day so the team doesn’t get punished with weekend rotation... again. 

You’re sitting in the middle of the long table with Natasha to your left and Bradley to your right, and across from you is the most gorgeous man on the planet. You can’t help settling your gaze on him, tracing the bridge of his nose as he faces Javy beside him, lips moving as words spill from them, but you can't possibly know what he’s saying because you’re too busy picturing what else those lips would be good at. His Adam’s apple bobs between statements and his tongue occasionally darts across those lips, making your innocent Friday lunch feel a lot filthier as your thoughts wander in the most inappropriate way. 

An elbow nudging into your ribs knocks you off your bullet train of thought, derailing it at high speed as reality comes crashing down and you turn accusingly toward Bradley. “What?” you snap. 

He chuckles, “You’re drooling.” 

Your hand flies up to your mouth, fingers padding at each corner only to find the skin dry. You scowl at him, “Asshole.” 

He has to hide his increased laughter in the mouth of his water bottle, taking a long sip so to not draw the attention of the rest of the group. “Sorry,” he says as he places the bottle back on the table, “but you were about to. I was saving you from yourself.” 

You roll your eyes, “Whatever.” 

Bradley shakes his head, his amused grin fading as he drops his gaze back to the tray of food in front of him, and a tiny pebble of guilt drops in the pit of your stomach. You suddenly feel bad for snapping at your best friend, so you bump your shoulder against his and reach over to steal a fry from his tray. 

He shoots you a glare from the corner of his eye, but the smirk on his lips tells you that he isn’t really mad. You pop the fry into your mouth and chew it with a smile before turning your attention back to the group, startling when you find a pair of green eyes already trained on you. Heat flushes up your neck, colouring your cheeks as you stare back at the man you had just previously been ogling. Time seems to slow down, or speed up, you’re not sure, but what you do know is how pretty Jake’s eyes are, swirling shades of green with flecks of gold that glow in the afternoon sunlight flooding through the high cafeteria windows. 

“Hangman?” Javy clicks his fingers in front of Jake’s face, simultaneously snapping you both out of whatever trance you’d been stuck in. 

When you look around the table, you notice that most of the group are standing now, holding their empty trays and getting ready to return to work. 

Jake blinks a few times, a slight frown creasing between his brows. “What?” he snaps. 

Javy chuckles, holding one hand up in surrender. “Calm down, I was just asking what time we should get to your place tomorrow night.” 

“Oh,” Jake’s shoulders visibly relax, “1800.” 

You roll your eyes playfully as you push up from your chair. “Okay soldier, you can just say 6PM.” 

His face breaks into a breathtaking grin as he stands and picks his tray up from the table. “Sorry civilian, I’ll see you at 6PM tomorrow night.” 

Low laughter rumbles through the group as you take an extra moment to appreciate the gorgeous man smiling at you, but then Javy tugs on Jake’s arm and interrupts you both for the second time less than a minutes. “Come on man, Mav will be pissed if we’re late.” 

“Wait for me?” Bradley asks. 

You turn to your best friend and find him looking at you – asking you – rather than his squadmates. “Huh?” 

He raises one judgemental brow, a teasing smirk on his lips. “After work, wait for me so I can give you a lift home.” 

“Oh,” you nod, “duh, I’m not walking.” 

His eyes flash toward Jake’s retreating form before he looks back at you with a grin. “Would you at least try to control yourself? Jesus, it’s so obvious.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you frown at him. “Hurry up or Mav will have your ass.” 

He stacks his tray on top of yours in your hands and leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You’re so sweet to me,” he jokes, before turning on his heel and jogging after the others. 

You roll your eyes for what feels like the umpteenth time as you watch him leave, meeting Jake at the exit door leading to the main hangars. Just as they both disappear, you can swear Jake throws an angry glance over his shoulder at you, but the door swings shut before you can be sure. 

That glare haunts you on your journey back to the control tower. Had you really seen what you think you saw? Jake had just been grinning at you, joking with you, but then somewhere on his way across the cafeteria he had found a reason to glare at you. It doesn’t make sense. 

You try to push the image of his angry face out of your mind as you sit back at your desk, one of eight situated on the fourth floor of the main control tower. Three screens stare back at you, displaying various windows of information about the sky’s conditions and other operational statuses from around the base. You slide your headset on and adjust the dials until you can hear a soft crackle indicating successful connection to the correct frequency. One by one, you watch the faces and callsigns of your friends pop up on the right-most screen as they turn their comms on and ready their jets. 

“Maverick to control,” Mav’s voice comes through your headset. 

“Good afternoon, Maverick,” you reply, as if you hadn’t already been on the comms with him for half the day. 

“Radio check before take-off please, aviators,” he says, “alphabetical order if you geniuses can figure it out.” 

You roll your lips to keep from laughing, reminding yourself that despite your personal connection to these people, this is still your job. 

“Bob to control, can you hear me?” 

“Lound and clear,” you respond, quickly trying to figure out the alphabetical order for yourself. 

“Coyote to control.” 

“Copy.” 

“Fanboy to control.” 

“Copy,” you repeat. 

“Hangman to control,” Jake says, his voice in your ear sending the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. 

“Copy,” you reply. 

The line then goes quiet, a faint crackling the only indication that the radio hasn’t completely dropped out. You wait a beat before speaking again, “Radio check please Payback.” 

“Shit, sorry. Copy,” Reuben’s voice responds. “I thought Phoenix was before me.” 

“A comes before H, idiot,” Natasha says, followed by a chorus of snickers. “Phoenix to control, can you hear me?” 

“Loud and clear, Phoenix,” you reply through your laughter. 

“Rooster to control,” Bradley’s voice fills your ears, “your favourite pilot here, bringing up the rear.” 

You roll your eyes, “Copy that, Shakespeare.” 

Another rumble of laughter comes through your headset as you quickly type into the afternoon’s log that the radio check was successful. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Mav says as the laughter dies down. “Control, are we good for take-off?” 

“Skies are clear, Mav,” you reply, “take off at will.” 

You tune out the soft chatter as the squad ready themselves for taking off, and one by one watch their altitudes rise on your middle screen. They all pop up as red dots on the radar window, blinking slowly as they cruise through what you know is a cloudy afternoon sky. 

“We’ve got a stormfront coming in from the south,” you say, eyes darting to your left-most screen. “We might need to call it a little early this afternoon, Mav.” 

Maverick chuckles, “An early mark on a Friday? I don’t know if this lot deserve it.” 

A series of protests then fill your ears, almost every pilot falling for Maverick’s taunt and arguing that they do deserve an early mark, even going as far as to say that they’ve had a hard week. You’ve been here all week too, and you probably couldn’t agree with that since this week has been one of the cruisiest in a while. 

“Alright, alright,” Mav says to quell the bickering, “if you can perfectly execute the cloak and dagger drill, I’ll let you all land by 1500.” 

The complaining turns into cheering, and Bradley threatens the team to perform because he’s not staying back in a storm on a Friday afternoon. Not that Mav could keep them in the skies if the weather gets that bad. 

“Listen up,” Maverick says, “Coyote, I’ll be your wingman, and I want Phoenix and Bob behind us. Hangman, Rooster will be your wingman-” 

“I’ve been trying, Mav,” Bradley interrupts, his voice dripping with cheek, “but the man is oblivious.” 

Your heart leaps into your throat, blocking your airways as you suffocate on the audacity of your best friend. The laughter from your headset sounds distant as you try to remember how to breathe, willing yourself to calm down. Afterall, no one could really know what he’s talking about, right? 

“Yes, Rooster,” Maverick chuckles, “we’re all aware of how oblivious Hangman is.” 

Your eyes grow wide. 

“What are you talking about?” Jake pipes up, and you can almost see the adorable and confused look on his face. His brows pinched together, a little crease between them, and his bottom lip pushed forward in a small pout. 

“Point and case,” Bradley says, at which the rest of the squad dissolve into giggles. 

Does everyone know about your crush? Is Jake really the only confused pilot right now? 

“I don’t get the joke,” Mickey says over the laughter. 

You can’t help the smile that cracks across your face, a breathy laugh leaving your lips as you try to focus on documenting the weather warning in your afternoon log. The team continue to giggle, turning their teasing on Mickey before Maverick orders them to focus. They run the drill perfectly, finishing up just before an orange alert pops up on your screen, a notification from the weather analysis team telling you to get the squad on the ground. 

“Maverick,” you say, “the storm is coming in fast; you’ve been ordered to land.” 

“Copy that,” he responds, before rattling off instructions to the squad. 

One by one, you watch their blinking dots on the radar screen approach the runway and land. They manoeuvre toward the hangar, following instructions from the ground team to store the jets for the weekend. You exchange a couple of last words with Mav before they all remove their helmets and start the end of day procedures. You take time to check your emails and send the day’s log to the data analysis team before doing all your usual sign offs. By the time you’re exiting the control tower, it’s almost 4PM. 

You pull your phone out of your back pocket, about to text Bradley asking which lot he parked in today when his Ford Bronco skids to a halt three feet in front of you. He leans across the passenger seat and pops the door open with a grin. “Need a ride?” 

You roll your eyes, taking two long strides forward and throwing your bag into the back seat before flopping into the passenger seat beside him. “That was quick,” you state. “Doesn’t the debrief usually take longer on Fridays?” 

Bradley shrugs, “The admiral left early today so we didn’t have to do a formal debrief, and maintenance are doing a fuel flush on all the jets this weekend so they took them off our hands pretty quick.” 

“Oh, nice,” you reply simply before turning your attention back to your phone, checking the notifications you missed during work. 

Bradley navigates the base easily, slowing to a stop at the exit gates and having a short chat with the security guard in the booth before the boomgate rises and he hits the gas again. When the car merges onto the main highway, you tuck your phone under your thigh, not wanting to risk motion sickness with Bradley’s driving. Let’s just say, he’s a much better pilot than he is a chauffeur. 

“So,” he says, glancing at you with a cheeky grin, “do you want to hear something interesting.” 

You sigh, recognising that look. “Who were you eavesdropping on today?” 

“I heard Hangman talking to Coyote before I left,” he explains, eyes sparkling with mischief, “and I heard Coyote say to ‘stop making excuses and just ask her out’.” 

You frown, trying to tamp down the green-eyed monster rumbling to life in your stomach. “Ask who out?” 

“I didn’t hear a name, but I’m assuming-” 

“Don’t say me.” 

He chuckles, “Not me, you.” 

You scowl at him, “Don’t argue with me about semantics.” 

He rolls his eyes, “I just don’t understand why you won’t believe me. You heard the whole squad before, everyone knows except Hangman, even Mav!” 

“Mickey doesn’t know,” you argue. 

“Fanboy is almost as oblivious as your boyfriend.” 

Your eyes narrow, “Do not use that word.” 

He laughs again, “Which one?” 

“You know which one.” 

He sighs heavily, as if the weight of your unrequited crush was pressing down on his shoulders too. “Look, if you’re going to be stubborn, I’m going to have to take things into my own hands.” 

“Please don’t,” you beg, your eyes growing wide. 

He shrugs and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, but you’re giving me no choice.” 

“Bradley, please,” you plead, turning in your seat to face him, “just leave it alone. I don’t want to ruin the friendship and make it uncomfortable for the whole group.” 

“The whole group already is uncomfortable with you two constantly eye-fucking each other!” 

Heat creeps up your neck, turning your cheeks pink and making your ears burn. You want to protest and continue arguing with him, because you’re adamant that Jake does not return your feelings, but your brain can’t seem to string a coherent sentence together. Instead, you sink down in your seat and scowl at the road, wondering what you could possibly be in store for if Bradley really is taking matters into his own hands. 

The rest of the drive home isn’t long, and soon enough, Bradley is pulling the Bronco into his parking spot in the garage of the apartment block you both live in. You don’t live together, but you do live in neighbouring studio apartments, so it often feels like you live together. You drive to and from work together, you usually have dinner together and watch movies together in the evenings. Basically, if you’re both not busy, you’re with each other, and it’s been that way as long as you’ve both been based on North Island. 

The squad had initially teased that the two of you might be more than friends, they even had you questioning it, but one wine-drunk kiss while watching The Bachelor confirmed that neither of you felt anything romantic toward the other. It was that same night that you also confessed to Bradley that you might be falling for Jake, to which he looked at you like you were stupid because duh. Apparently, your crush has been obvious from day one. 

Now, here you are, hopelessly in love with a man you not only work with, but you’d also consider one of your closest friends. Rock, meet Hard Place, and you? You’re in the middle. 

- 

After spending the night on the couch with Bradley and a box of pizza, you took yourself off to bed and dreamed one of the many reoccurring dreams you have about a certain fighter pilot. You managed to sleep in before taking yourself for a long walk and making a mental list of all the things you needed to do before Javy’s birthday party. 

Jake had been generous enough to offer having the party at his place, since the squad wanted to do something other than go to The Hard Deck for once. You'd offered to help shop for supplies and set up for the night, but Jake and Javy assured the group that they had it all under control. All you have to do is waste your Saturday and quell your nerves before the party. 

At exactly 5:45PM, there’s a knock at your door. You quickly finish applying your lip balm before tucking it into the purse hanging from your shoulder and grabbing the jacket you’d thrown over the back of the lounge. You yank your front door open to find your best friend grinning from ear to ear, his moustache looking particularly fresh. 

“You shaved,” you state, stepping forward and forcing him to step back. 

He nods before asking, “Did you?” 

You finish locking the door, slipping the key into your purse with one hand while the other slaps Bradley’s bicep. “Don’t be creepy!” 

He chuckles and rubs his arm. “I’m not being creepy, I’m just making sure you’re prepared for any outcome.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, “What are you planning?” 

"Nothing in particular,” he replies innocently, though the small smirk on his lips betrays him. 

You decide to leave it, since you're already nervous enough, and focus on relaxing the butterflies flapping wildly in your stomach. Bradley decided earlier that he would drive to Jake’s, since it’s hardly ten minutes from where you live, and leave his car in favour of getting an Uber home. Jake had said that anyone who wanted to crash was more than welcome to, but the thought of sleeping at his place only invigorates those nervous butterflies. 

“Stop,” Bradley says, one hand leaving the steering wheel to grab your bouncing knee. “Why are you so nervous?” 

You shrug, opting instead to wring your hands in your lap. “I don’t know, I just am.” 

“You see these people every single day,” he points out, “what’s so nerve-wracking about tonight?” 

You sigh, refusing to look at him as you reply, “I’m just feeling a little weird about going to Jake’s apartment.” 

His brows shoot up toward his hairline, and you can tell by the way he rolls his lips that he’s holding back laughter. Your cheeks burn, and you have to hide your face in your hands. 

“I’m not going to make fun of you,” he says quickly, “I actually think it’s a bit cute.” 

You drop your hands, turning to him with a frown. “What? Why?” 

He shrugs one shoulder, “I don’t know. It’s cute that you’re nervous to see where you’ll be living once the two of you finally fuck and get marr- ow!” 

You cut him off my smacking his arm, the same one as before, harder. “Would you stop being such a pain?!” you exclaim as the car comes to a halt. “You’re supposed to be my best friend; you’re supposed to comfort me, not make my face all red and blotchy right before we go inside.” 

He finally lets his laughter win, his shoulders shaking as he chuckles into his closed fist. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m not trying to be a dick, it just comes so naturally.” 

You roll your eyes and pop open the passenger door, throwing him a glare over your shoulder. “I know.” 

He manages to keep his thoughts to himself while the two of you cross the lobby and ride the elevator up to the fourth floor. This apartment block is shorter than yours, but wider. It’s one of the most coveted locations for naval personnel based on North Island, being the closest two- and three-bedroom apartments to the base. Jake had lucked out when he snagged one of these apartments with another lieutenant, and he’d lucked out even harder when that lieutenant got relocated and he ended up having the apartment to himself. 

The sound of Bradley’s knuckles against the hardwood door knocks you back to reality, and you find yourself standing in front of apartment 4B. 

“Who is it?” Natasha’s voice calls from the other side of the door. 

“Stripper,” Bradley calls back. 

“Finally,” the door wooshes open and you watch the liquid in Natasha’s red cup slosh dangerously. “We’ve been waiting all night.” 

Bradley winks at her as he strides into the apartment, but before you can follow, Natasha blocks your path. “You need to pay the entry fee,” she says, offering you the red cup. 

You frown, “Why me and not him?” 

“Because it’ll calm your nerves.” 

You catch Bradley smirking over his shoulder, and you scowl at him, wishing you could telepathically punch him for texting Natasha in advance, warning her of your anxiousness. 

“Fine,” you sigh, taking the cup and tipping it to your lips. 

You drain the cup, ignoring the burn that slides all the way down to your stomach. When you tip your head back to look at Natasha, she’s grinning. “Now you may enter,” she says, stepping aside. 

There are a few more people than just the dagger squad in the apartment. You recognised most of them, but you decide that it’s not important enough for you to go around the room introducing yourself to the ones you don’t know the way Bradley is. Outgoing motherfucker. Instead, you beeline for the kitchen where Bob is on the phone reading out an extensive list of pizza orders. He offers you a quick smile before returning his attention to the list. 

There’s a makeshift cocktail station set up beside the sink, with an array of alcohol bottles sat on the passthrough window bench. Your gaze drifts past the bottles and into the lounge room where everyone is gathered, landing easily on Jake who is animatedly retelling something to two men you recognise as Fritz and Yale. You’ve never been so charmed by someone in your life, it’s almost laughable the way this man captivates you. You can’t look away from the bright grin on his face, the tiny crease between his brows, and the excitement in his pretty green eyes. 

“Hey,” Bob says, startling you out of your trance. 

You can feel heat blooming in your cheeks as you turn to face him, leaning your left hip against the countertop. “Hey.” 

“Drink?” he asks, a small but knowing smile tipping the corner of his mouth up. 

You nod quickly, “Please.” 

You chat idly while Bob fixes you both a cocktail that you don’t recognise, not that you’re much of a connoisseur when it comes to bartending, and you’re pretty sure he sneaks an extra shot into yours. Either way, the drink he hands you tastes delicious and fruity, and you’re feeling a little less nervous as you both join the group in the living room. A couple of Javy’s friends who you don’t know have already parted from the dagger squad, starting a foosball competition while the rest of you find somewhere to sit around the coffee table. 

“Okay,” Bradley says to the group, “let’s play a little warm up game.” 

“Yes!” Mickey exclaims as he settles into a beanbag. “I’m so down.” 

Javy chuckles, “Alright, what are we playing?” 

“Never Have I Ever,” Bradley replies, his lips curled into an evil smirk. 

Your heart stutters, forgetting its usual rhythm before jumping into an erratic beat. You tip your drink to your lips, almost draining the whole thing, and when you finally look back at your best friend across the coffee table, he winks. This is his plan. 

“But instead of just putting a finger down,” Natasha says, making you realise that she is in on it too, “you have to take a sip of your drink.” 

“Does everyone have a drink?” Bradley asks. 

You watch as a few of your friends drain the dregs of their current drinks before getting up to retrieve fresh ones, and you sigh, tipping the last of your cocktail into your mouth. You might as well get drunk with them. 

When Bob returns to his seat beside you, he hands you a bottle of blue liquid. “Thought you might need this.” 

You smile gratefully, “You’re the best.” 

Once everyone is settled again, Bradley and Natasha take turns going over the rules of the high school game, even though it’s not that complicated. 

“Oh, one last thing,” Bradley says, eyes trained on you, “nothing is off limits, and if you lie, you finish your drink.” 

“How will we know if someone’s lying?” Reuben asks. 

“I think there’s enough of us here that know each other well enough to spot a lie,” Natasha replies with a smirk. 

Well, fuck. 

“I’ll start,” Bradley announces. “Never have I ever slept with someone else in the navy.” 

Jake, Javy, Mickey, Reuben, Natasha, and Harvard – who you only know by his callsign – all groan and take a sip of their drinks. Your eyes widen and you turn to Natasha on your right. “Excuse me, why did I not know about this?” 

She rolls her eyes, “It was ages ago.” 

“Damn, Phoenix,” Reuben says with a smirk, “didn’t think you were a rule breaker.” 

“Technically,” Natasha bites back, “it’s not a rule, just frowned upon.” 

Laughter rolls through the group before Bradley turns to Jake on his left. “You’re up, Hangman.” 

Jake clears his throat as he sits up straighter and surveys the group, lingering on you for a moment longer than the rest. “Okay,” he says, “never have I ever had a secret relationship.” 

There’s a beat of silence, a few people’s brows creasing in confusion as everyone stares at Jake. 

“That’s a weird one,” Natasha states, though you can see in her eyes that she’s trying to figure out the hidden meaning to Jake’s declaration. 

“Well, anyway,” Javy says, chuckling as he tips his beer to his lips. 

The rest of the group takes a moment to think before both Bradley and Mickey also take a sip of their drinks. You watch Jake’s eyes widen slightly as he watches Bradley drink, then his gaze darts toward you, as if waiting for you to take a sip too. When you don’t, his shoulders seem to relax. 

“Oh, my God,” Natasha whispers so softly that only you can hear, and when you turn to look at her, you find her eyes focused on Jake. 

You feel yourself splitting in two, torn between asking Natasha what her revelation is or demanding to know what this secret relationship of Bradley’s was. You decide to go with the less nerve-inducing option. 

“Excuse me, Bradley,” you speak across the group, “what was this secret relationship?” 

He chuckles, “It was in high school.” 

“Oh,” Reuben wriggles his eyebrows and nudges Bradley’s side, “were you a junior and she was a senior?” 

Bradley snorts, “Actually, I was a senior and she was a teacher.” 

Javy chokes on his second mouthful of beer, and the group suddenly erupts into laughter and questions while Bradley sits there like a king. You join in the laughter and use the commotion to slide your gaze toward Jake, heat rising in your cheeks when you find his eyes already fixed on you. He smirks, and you’re pretty sure your stomach does a triple somersault. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Bradley says. “I know I’m a legend. Now, let’s get on with it.” 

Beside Jake, the man you only know as Harvard announces that he has never skinny dipped, at which everyone but Bob takes a sip of their drink. Next is Fritz, who declares that he has never had sex in the shower, and everyone in the group drinks. Your heart starts to race again as Natasha wriggles beside you, clearly excited about it being her turn next. 

“Let me think,” she says, rolling her lips as she pauses to think for a moment. 

You feel her brief gaze from the corner of her eye, and heat prickles the back of your neck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Never have I ever,” she begins, her brown eyes glowing with mischief, “had sexual fantasies about someone else in this group.” 

Your breath catches on its way out, lodging in your throat as you once again forget how to breathe. You can feel your pulse across every inch of your skin, your heart thudding so hard against your ribs you worry it might break free. You can’t lie. You know you can’t lie, because Bradley is giving you a very pointed glare from across the group and Natasha has turned her whole body to face you. 

“Fine,” you mutter into the bottle as you bring it to your lips, tipping it up. 

You hear Javy's laughter above everyone else’s hoots and hollers, and when you look back at the group, you catch the tail end of Jake taking a sip from his drink. Natasha giggles beside you, subtly nudging your side with her elbow. 

Bradley’s eyes are trained on you, and he opens his mouth to no doubt say something taunting when Reuben lifts his drink to his lips, and Bradley turns to him in shock. “You too?!” he exclaims. 

Mickey has dissolved into fits of laughter, curling over and holding his stomach. 

“It was an accident,” Reuben justifies, the colour of his cheeks growing deeper, “I had one dream.” 

“About who?” Jake demands, his frown more accusatory than curious. 

Reuben shakes his head, “That is nobody’s business but mine.” 

The laughter slowly dies down, and you silently thank any god that might be listening for the distraction before Bradley or Natasha could embarrass you further. 

“Okay, my turn,” you say, quickly moving the game along. “Never have I ever piloted a jet.” 

The smirk on your lips is incredibly proud, and half the group groans while the other half chuckles as every single one of them tip their drinks to their lips. It was a cheap shot, but you had to distract from all the sex stuff before you spontaneously combusted. 

“Alright, Bob,” Bradley says, looking at the man to your left, “what have you got for us?” 

Bob clears his throat, a small smile curling his lips. “Never have I ever worn a bra.” 

Both you and Natasha roll your eyes and take a swig of your drinks, and across the group so does Bradley. You stare at him wide eyed as a stupid grin stretches across your face. 

“Oh, I have got to hear this story,” Natasha says, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. 

Bradley tries to shrug nonchalantly, but you can see blood seeping into his cheeks, turning them red. “Alright, as if none of you have tried a bra on before,” he says, eyeing the men around the circle. 

Everyone bursts into fits of laughter, holding their stomachs or their chests as they fold over and start mocking your best friend. You almost feel bad for him, watching him try to defend himself, but then you remember that he started this game to out your crush and any trace of empathy you had is quickly wiped clean. 

“Okay, everyone shut up,” Javy says over the giggling and teasing, “it’s the birthday boy’s turn.” 

The noise dies down, and only then do you realise that the group of Javy’s friends by the foosball table are now watching the game of Never Have I Ever as if it’s some enthralling reality TV show. 

“Never have I ever,” Javy says slowly, his eyes locked on Jake directly across the circle, “been too chickenshit to ask someone out even though I’m clearly obsessed with them.” 

Your heart stutters again, unable to discern the difference between being held at gunpoint and playing a stupid game mostly likely created by high school students. You tip your drink to your lips, not missing the fact that Jake does too, and certainly not missing the way Bradley’s eyes widen and snap toward you. Mickey and Fritz also drink, but to your immense relief, the rest of the group hold off on the teasing for this round. 

“Okay, um,” Mickey taps a finger on his chin as he stares into space, “never have I ever ridden a horse.” 

Beside him, Reuben frowns, “What?” 

Mickey shrugs, “I was looking at the horse.” He gestures toward the narrow bookshelf beside the television cabinet, adorned with a few books, photo frames, and knickknacks. On the very middle shelf is a golden trophy with a little figurine of a cowboy riding a horse, his rope poised in the air mid-lasso. 

Reuben turns his quizzical frown toward Jake. “Why do you have a horse trophy?” 

Jake’s cheeks are pink, either from embarrassment or alcohol, you can’t tell, but Javy speaks before he can reply. “Didn’t you know baby Hangman was a part of Austin’s champion junior penning team?” 

Mickey tilts his head like a confused dog. “What’s penning?” 

“It’s a ranching thing,” Jake replies, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “You’re in a team of three on horseback, and you have to separate cattle. There’re all these other rules too, but that’s the basis of it.” 

Your chest aches at the sight of Jake Seresin actually looking shy. You’ve never seen this man with less confidence than a stag in mating season, and that mixed with the imagery of a young Jake working on his family’s ranch; well, your heart is just about ready to burst. 

Bradley chuckles, “I always forget that you’re a cowboy.” 

“Can take the boy out of Texas,” Javy says with a southern twang, “but can’t take Texas out of the boy.” 

Jake rolls his eyes playfully and rumples up his empty red cup before tossing it across the circle at his best friend. From what you can gather, Jake and Javy have known each other far longer than just the past few years, and you’re always pleasantly surprised when either of them comes out with historic pieces of information about the other. 

“Alright, one more and we’re playing a new game,” Bradley announces, turning his attention to Reuben who is the last to go before it’s back to the beginning. 

 “Never have I ever,” Reuben says with a cheeky smile, “owned a cowboy hat.” 

The group dissolves into another fit of laughter, and you see Natasha and Fritz sip their drinks from the corner of your eye, but everyone’s attention has turned to Jake. 

He rolls his eyes again and pushes to his feet. “You people are relentless!” he exclaims, his tone laced with amusement. “I finished my drink anyway, so suck on that.” 

Renewed laughter rumbles through the room as Jake storms off down the short hallway, disappearing into a room you can’t see from your position on the lounge. Half the group make their way toward the kitchen to refresh their drinks, while the other half continue joking about Jake’s cowboy ancestry. 

You turn your attention back to the bookshelf where the trophy is, letting your eyes wander over all the pieces of Jake that are displayed on the shelves. You hadn’t noticed before, but a lot of the decor in the apartment gives subtle nod to his upbringing. Everything is washed in warm browns and oranges with rich wood furniture, photos of horses and farmland, and trinkets reminiscent of a life on the ranch. He has more than one trophy, you note, and there are a quite a few photos of a young, smiley boy standing proudly beside the same chestnut horse. Your chest squeezes again, reminding you just how enamoured you are with this man. 

“Drink?” Bob asks for the second time tonight, offering a different coloured cocktail than earlier. 

You nod, “Thank you.” 

“Pizza is almost here,” he says, looking at both you and Natasha. “Would you help me go down to the lobby and pick it up?” 

You both agree and let the rest of the group know where you’re going before heading out of the apartment door. The pizza guy meets you in the lobby barely a minute after you step out of the lift. Bob pays with cash, and you all stack your arms with boxes of delicious smelling pizza before stepping back into the lift and riding it up to level four. 

You can hear commotion the second the elevator doors part, and it gets louder the closer you get to Jake’s apartment. The three of you exchange dubious looks before Bob shifts the boxes in his arms to free one hand and knock on the door. It swings open almost immediately, and you can now very clearly hear some unrecognisable country song blaring while everyone hoots and cheers. 

Fritz, who opened the door, takes some of the boxes and calls for more help. As soon as your arms are free, you turn to see what all the fuss is about, your jaw dropping open the second your eyes land on the two men in the middle of the living space. 

Jake and Javy are arm in arm, jumping in circles and doing what you assume is supposed to be some country jig. It’s uncoordinated and they’re both laughing so hard they can barely breathe, but it’s not the dancing that has the butterflies in your stomach whirring to life. Atop Jake’s head is a brown cowboy hat. It’s simple and a little worn, the exact same colour as the horse in the photos with young Jake. 

Holy fucking shit, does that man look good in a cowboy hat. 

You’ve never really considered yourself as having a ‘type’, but right now you couldn’t be more sure that this man is your type. The only person on planet earth that is your type. You can’t help the way your lips are pulled into a grin so wide it hurts, and the fast, uneven thud of your heart against your ribcage, threatening to crack bone. 

“Are you okay?” Bradley asks, startling you as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. 

You sigh, feeling the pull in your gut that tugs toward the man in the cowboy hat. “No,” you reply, leaning into him, “I’m not okay.” 

His chest vibrates with laughter as you hide your face in it, keeping your arms slack by your side as you pretend to sob into your best friend’s shirt. His other arm wraps around you and his laughter doubles, one arm squeezing you tight while the other hand rubs circles on your back. Despite how much of an asshole he can be, you know that Bradley is always there for you when you need him. 

You pull out of his embrace when the music dies down and Bob announces that its dinner time. Your eyes easily find the cowboy, watching him walk toward the dining table where all the boxes of pizza are laid open. 

“Look at him,” you whisper-shout to Bradley. “Fucking look at him! Don’t you just want to lick-” 

“Nope,” Bradley interrupts before you can even finish. “I definitely do not want to lick any part of that man.” 

You roll your eyes playfully as he guides you toward the table of pizza. He hands you a plate and you start stacking a few slices on it despite your nervous stomach’s protests. When you glance across at Jake, his piercing eyes are already on you – like they so often seem to be of late – but he doesn’t look nearly as joyous as he had moments earlier. There’s a crease between his brows and tension in his jaw as he chews. 

Natasha pops up beside you and starts babbling about what game you should all play next. She’s always a chatty drunk, not at all annoying, but definitely more vocal than usual after a few drinks. You listen to her and Bradley squabble about games before Javy pipes in, declaring that it is his birthday so he should get to decide. 

After everyone has eaten their fill, Jake and Reuben pack away the leftover pizza while Bob and Mickey start making a round of cocktails. Meanwhile, Javy announces that he would like everyone to do a shot, which is when three of his mates who you have guessed are not navy make their exit. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Javy mutters, lining up all the mismatched shot glasses on the kitchen counter. “How many do we need?” 

You look at Jake, who is standing beside you and craning his neck to count the heads in the room. “Why do you have so many shot glasses?” you ask him. 

He pauses for a beat before chuckling and shaking his head. “You made me lose count.” 

When he looks down at you, it feels like your lungs constrict, forgetting once again how to do their one job. Your chest aches in the most deliciously painful way, because that ache radiates all the way down to the apex of your thighs. You don't just want this man, you need him. 

“I used to like to collect shot glasses,” he finally replies. “I’d try to get one in every city I visited but after about ten, I kept forgetting.” 

“We need eleven,” Javy announces, obviously having counted the room while Jake answered your question. 

“We’re one short then,” Jake states. 

You shrug, your inebriated brain quickly diving into devious thoughts. “Someone could do a body shot off me.” 

Every head in a two-foot radius snaps toward you. Jake’s eyes are blown wide, and a huge grin is pulling Javy’s mouth across his face. Bob looks shocked and Mickey looks amused, but Bradley is almost glowing with pride. 

You roll your eyes for the umpteenth time, “I’m joking, guys. Calm down.” 

Jake’s shoulders sag as if he’s disappointed, but he huffs a short laugh out before picking up one of the bottles to start pouring liquid into the line of shot glasses. “I’ll go last,” he says, looking at Javy. “I’ll just use your glass.” 

At Javy’s request, everyone gathers around and picks a shot, clinking them together and spilling drops of amber liquid on the floor before tipping them up to their lips. It burns all the way down and sizzles angrily in your stomach. Sweat prickles the back of your neck as heat breaks out across every inch of your skin. You’re well on your way to being drunk, so you take advantage of the cheering to slip back into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water. If anything, it might save your head tomorrow. 

Twenty minutes later, everyone has a full drink and a seat somewhere around the coffee table. Javy decided that it’s time for another game, and despite protests, he said that he has picked one and there will be no negotiations. You find yourself comfortably between Bradley and Natasha, trying not to ogle at the gorgeous man across the circle. He is no longer wearing his cowboy hat, having taken it off just before doing his shot, hanging it on the back of one of the dining chairs. 

“Alright, what are we in for?” Bradley asks Javy. 

Javy grins, “Truth or Dare.” 

There’s a mixture of cheers and groans, but everyone ends up giggling with each other since the whole group is very happily tipsy by now. 

“Okay, okay,” Natasha calls over the laughter, “what rules are we playing?” 

Javy and Natasha negotiate the rules of the game, deciding not to move the game in a circle but from player to player; whoever gets asked ‘truth or dare’ then gets to choose the next victim. You glance quickly toward Fritz, Harvard, and Yale, the three you don’t hang out with all that much, and wonder if they’ll ever get a turn. 

“And if you don’t want to answer the truth or do the dare,” Natasha says, “then you have to drink.” 

Everyone nods in agreeance before Jake announces from beside Javy, “Birthday boy goes first.” 

Javy’s eyes scan the circle before settling on Bradley. “Rooster,” he says, “truth or dare?” 

“We’ll start of lightly,” Bradley states. “Truth.” 

“Is it true that you and Y/N are just friends?” 

Your eyes widen and you immediately inch away from your friend, leaning into a giggling Natasha. 

“Yes!” Bradley exclaims. “It couldn’t be truer! Are you kidding me?” 

Laughter rumbles through the group, everyone but Jake finding Bradley’s disgust rather amusing. 

Javy chuckles, “Just checking! You two are pretty cosy.” 

You scoff, “He’s like my brother.” 

“Alright,” Javy raises both hands in surrender, “I won’t ever question it again.” 

“Good,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him. 

Bradley clears his throat and the snickering dies down. He looks straight at Jake, “Hangman, truth or dare?” 

“Truth,” Jake replies. 

“Is it true that you’re totally hung up on someone right now?” 

Jakes cheeks turn bright pink and he immediately covers his face with his hand, hiding his sheepish smile. He sighs, “Yes, that is true.” 

Your stomach twists itself into a knot, threatening to eject everything you’ve consumed in the past few hours. The rest of the group start giggling again, teasing Jake and making stupid oohing noises as the poor man places his beer on the coffee table to bury his face in both hands. 

“Okay,” he chuckles, swatting at Javy as he makes kissy noises, “that’s enough.” 

Once everyone manages to mostly compose themselves, Jake asks Bob truth or dare. Bob chooses dare, which lands him in Bradley’s lap for the next ten minutes. Bob then asks Natasha truth or dare, and she picks truth, deciding to drink instead of admitting who she finds the most attractive in the room. You have a feeling Bob might already know the answer to that, which is why she flips him the bird before asking Mickey truth or dare. He picks dare, of course, and has to do a shot of straight vodka.  

After he’s finished coughing and hacking, he returns to his spot between Bradley and Yale, turning his attention to you. “Y/N,” he says with an evil grin, “truth or dare?” 

“Truth,” you respond. 

“Earlier tonight, you told Bradley that you wanted to lick someone; who were you talking about?” 

Your heart leaps into your throat, beating erratically as it tries to crawl up and jump right out of your mouth. Bradley bursts into a fit of laughter beside you, and Natasha coughs on the sip of drink she had just taken. You clear your throat before lifting your own drink to your lips, taking a purposeful sip and rolling your lips together. 

Mickey whines, “You’re no fun!” 

You scowl at him, “You were eavesdropping!” 

His grin turns sheepish. “Technically, I overheard.” 

You roll your eyes and let the laughter subside before scanning the circle, wondering who you could pick that might keep you safe in return. Your eyes land on Jake and you have to roll your lips again to keep from smiling. Sure, you could dare him to make out with you, but you’d rather not force yourself on him, so you settle your gaze on the man beside him, Reuben. 

“Payback, truth or dare?” 

His face lights up, “Dare.” 

“I dare you to give your WSO a big kiss on the lips,” you say with a grin. 

Mickey snorts, “You think we haven’t kissed before?” 

“Dude!” Reuben exclaims across the group as everyone loses it to laughter once again. 

Mickey giggles as he crawls into the middle of the circle and meets Reuben, who rolls his eyes before grabbing either side of Mickey’s head and mashing their lips together. It’s very brief, but it has the group hooting and hollering like high schoolers as the two blushing boys return to their respective spots. 

Reuben shoots you a scowl, “I’ll get you back for that.” 

You give him a wink before tipping your drink to your lips, realising that it’s empty. You push yourself to stand, “Drinks?” 

You and Bradley work on taking the empties from the group and retrieving fresh drinks for everyone while they start asking questions about Reuben and Mickey’s first kiss. When you settle back into your seat, you see Reuben crouched beside Javy as they whisper into each other's ears, their eyes watching you carefully and their lips curling into evil little smirks. 

Well shit. 

Once everyone is settled again, Reuben looks toward Javy. “Coyote, truth or dare?” 

“Hm,” Javy pretends to think, “dare.” 

“I dare you to prank call Maverick.” 

Everyone oohs as Javy pulls his phone out, a shit-eating grin stretched across his face. He switches off his caller ID before finding Maverick’s contact, and the group falls silent at the first dial tone. It rings and rings, but Mav doesn’t answer, so when his voicemail requests a message, Javy puts on his gruffest voice. “Maverick, it’s Admiral Simpson. I’ve had a few drinks, and I know this isn’t appropriate, but I just wanted to tell you that I love you.” 

He hangs up and wheezes with laughter. Everyone is folded over, some wiping tears from their eyes, because right now, Maverick’s inevitable scolding doesn’t seem to be a worry. 

It takes a little longer for everyone to calm down, but once they do, Javy’s eyes narrow on you. “Y/N,” he says, “truth or dare?” 

“Me again?” you ask. “I just had a turn.” 

He simply shrugs, awaiting your answer. 

You sigh, “Fine, dare.” 

You played right into his hand, and you know it by the way his lips have split into a Cheshire Cat grin. 

“I dare you,” he says slowly, eyes moving past you and across the room, “to put Seresin’s cowboy hat on.” 

You frown, letting go of a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. It’s too simple. “What?” 

Javy nods toward the hat in the dining room. “Put the cowboy hat on.” 

“Coyote,” Jake warns, his voice low. 

“It’s just a hat,” you say, pushing off the couch and waving a hand dismissively. 

You walk quickly across the living space toward the dining table, taking the hat off the back of the chair and plonking it on your head. When you turn back around, Jake’s mouth pops open, Javy and Reuben giggle, and Mickey and Natasha look like they’ve just realised what the stupid joke is. 

“Oh, I get it!” Mickey announces proudly. 

You frown at him, “Get what?” 

He glances at Reuben, who makes the action of zipping his lips. Mickey turns back to you, “Sorry, I can’t say.” 

You roll your eyes. “Alright, Fanboy, truth or dare?” 

“Truth,” he says. 

“What’s the big joke about the hat?” 

“The hat rule,” he replies simply, as if it’s obvious. 

“What hat rule?” 

“The cowboy hat rule, you know-” 

“Nope!” Javy exclaims. “Technically, he answered the question, you can’t get another answer.” 

You huff, “Okay, whatever. Play your little games.” 

You lean back and cross your arms, the hat still propped on your head. Across the circle, Jake’s eyes are trained on you, and there’s a hint of a smirk on his lips. He looks mildly amused by whatever the joke is that you don’t get, but he also looks a little like he might be enjoying the way the hat is sitting on your head. The alcohol rushing through your veins gives you the courage to hold his stare as you draw your bottom lip between your teeth before pulling it back out slowly. His eyes drop to your mouth, lingering there before he swallows thickly and looks away. 

When you tune back into the game, you realise that Fritz is now asking Bradley truth or dare. You’re not sure what you missed, but you’re guessing it was one or two uneventful turns. 

“Dare,” Bradley says. 

“I dare you to walk out onto the balcony and make some weird, loud sex noises.” 

Bradley springs up, excitedly jogging toward the balcony doors, throwing them open and starting to honk and moan the second he steps outside. 

Jake chuckles into his hands. “You guys do realise that I still have to live here after tonight?” 

“OOH, FUCK YEAH!” Bradley shouts, at which everyone’s laughter doubles. 

Natasha nudges you, “Is this what you have to hear whenever he has a girl over?” 

“Unfortunately, yes,” you say with a dramatic sigh. 

Another few seconds pass of Bradley’s terrible sex noises before Jake calls him back inside. He sits back down beside you with a satisfied grin, his cheeks bright pink and eyes sparkling. He turns his attention to Jake. “Hangman, truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” 

Bradley clears his throat and casts you a quick glance before looking back at Jake. “What is the cowboy hat rule?”’ 

Javy and Reuben start to giggle again, and Jake sighs, looking incredibly sheepish as he runs a hand through his hair. “It’s uh- well,” he sighs, “you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” 

Your jaw goes slack and your mouth pops open, heart thundering in your chest. Bradley cackles beside you and Natasha snickers on your other side. The thought crosses your mind that if these people keep laughing so hard, they might explode. 

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Javy says to you before turning to look at Jake. “Now the two of you can fuck and relieve us all of this stifling sexual tension.” 

Neither you nor Jake can muster a laugh. You simply stare at each other, thoughts racing as you wonder why Javy would do this. Is what he said true? Does Jake actually like you the way Bradley has always said? Is the tension between the two of you that obvious? 

Eventually, the game rolls on, and neither you nor Jake get asked again. Truth or Dare somehow morphs into Would You Rather, and soon Bradley is standing beside you offering another round of drinks to the group. You stand up beside him and rush into the kitchen, dying for a moment away from Jake’s piercing gaze. It’s not that you don’t like him looking at you, you just wish you knew what it meant. 

“You good?” Bradley asks as he steps into the kitchen after you. 

You nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Still got the hat on,” he notes, pointing at your head. 

You quickly take it off and plonk it on the kitchen counter before reaching up to the passthrough shutters and swinging them closed. No one seems to notice, and the small amount of privacy seems to help settle the butterfly disco currently happening in your stomach. 

Bradley rummages through the fridge while you pour yourself a glass of water, sipping it slowly and watching him juggle as many bottles as he can between his two hands. He raises his brows at you before he leaves, a silent question, and you nod, assuring him that you’re fine. He disappears around the corner right before Jake steps into the kitchen, making your heart leap dramatically. 

“Hey,” he says, seeming much more relaxed than you’re currently feeling. 

“Hi.” 

“Are you okay?” 

You nod again, “Of course.” 

“Coyote can be a little insensitive sometimes,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

You shrug. “I’m tough. It was just a joke.” 

He frowns. “Which part do you think was a joke?” 

“The hat rule,” you reply, “right?” 

“Oh,” he chuckles, “yeah, I mean, that is a known rule but I’m not going to-” he hesitates, “I mean, I would never- oh, my God, this isn’t coming out right.” 

“It’s fine,” you say, dropping your gaze to your feet. “I know they were just having a laugh.” 

“No, I don’t mean it like that either,” he adds frantically. He steps forward, leaving very little space between your bodies. “What I’m trying to say,” he says slowly, “is that I definitely would do that with you, but not if you didn’t want to.” 

You look up, startled. “Would what?” 

He chuckles awkwardly, the pink in his cheeks turning red. “Let you ride me, if you wanted.” 

Looking up at his pretty green eyes is making your head spin, but you feel surprisingly stable. Something about his gaze is holding you steady, reassuring you the way a hug from your best friend does, and you quickly realise that this is the closest you’ve ever been able to stare into his eyes. They’re even more amazing up close. 

“You’re very pretty,” you blurt out, internally cursing all that liquid courage. 

He chuckles again, but its deep and breathy. “Thank you, but I’m nothing compared to you.” 

You frown now. “You don’t think your pretty?” 

“Well,” he shrugs, “I know I’m a little pretty.” 

You roll your eyes playfully. 

“But you are possibly the prettiest thing on this planet,” he adds, cupping your jaw in his hands. 

The contact lights your skin on fire, and your heart is practically vibrating in your chest. 

“Who’s the girl that you’re in love with?” you ask, once again unable to control that brain to mouth communication. 

He chuckles again, his eyes darting away from your face and finding the hat on the bench. He reaches past you, his breath fanning across your neck as he picks the hat up off the counter and plonks it on your head. 

“I’m in love with the girl wearing my old cowboy hat,” he says, hands holding either side of the brim as he adjusts the hat to sit perfectly. 

You don’t even wait for him to finish fixing the hat before you surge up onto your toes, pressing your lips to his. He responds immediately, hands abandoning the hat to find your hips and hold your body tightly against his. You’re almost positive you can feel his heart beating where your chests are pressed together, and it’s almost as erratic as yours. 

His lips move against yours gently, but there’s urgency in the way he holds your body, like you might disappear if he doesn’t hang on tight. Your own hands are gripping the hem of his shirt, fisting the material until you can feel your nails digging little half-moons into your palms. Maybe you feel the same, like if you don’t hold on, he’ll disappear, because you’re almost positive you’ve had this dream before. 

He pulls back for air, keeping his forehead pressed against yours as his hands drop to the crease beneath your bum. In one swift movement, he lifts you onto the counter and stands between your open legs, the buckle of his belt pressing deliciously against the crotch of your jeans. You squeeze your knees around his hips and tilt your head back, letting his tongue slide past your lips. You sigh against his mouth, every ounce of tension from the past few hours leaching out of your body as his hands explore and squeeze your thighs. 

“You have no idea”- he speaks breathily against your lips -“how long I’ve wanted to do this.” 

You pull back, staring up at his puffy lips and lust-blown eyes. “Why did you wait, then?” 

He chuckles and relaxes, the buckle of his belt no longer pressed against you. “Have you seen the way you and Rooster act?” he asks. “You’re practically inseparable, always having your little inside jokes, and you basically live together. How was I supposed to know you wanted me when all you do is look at him?” 

You gnaw at your bottom lip, willing your foggy brain to sober up and try to picture things the way Jake would be seeing them. “I guess,” you say, resting your hands on his chest, “but I only look at him to avoid staring at you all the time.” 

He tilts his head, a quizzical frown set between his brows. “Really?” 

You nod. “And most of our inside jokes are about the fact that I’m hopelessly in love with you.” 

His frown melts into a grin. “Hopelessly?” 

“More or less.” 

“More, I hope,” he murmurs as he leans forward again. 

Your lips have barely touched when a bang startles you both. Jake holds you against his chest as you look over your shoulder to see the passthrough shutters blown wide open. Your friends are all gathered in the opening with stupid grins on their faces and laughter bubbling from their lips. 

“I knew it!” Javy exclaims. 

“That’s all it fucking took?” Bradley asks, his brows almost raised to his hairline. 

“If I knew that, I would have put a cowboy hat on you ages ago,” Natasha says with an eye roll. 

“Yeah, okay,” Jake says, his smile wide and cheeks bright red, “that’s enough from you lot.” 

He reaches around you to grab the passthrough shutters and swing them closed, despite the shouts and protests of your friends. When his eyes find yours again, you feel like the only two people in the world. The noise from the living room fades away and the only thing you can feel is his warmth, his body. 

“Where were we?” he murmurs, holding your face in his hands as he dips toward you again. 

A sudden spike of panic slices through you, and you pull back with wide eyes. “Wait.” 

His smile fades, worry creasing his brow. “What’s wrong?” 

“You’re not just saying and doing all this because you’re drunk, right?” 

The concern on his face dissolves just as quickly as it had appeared, replaced again by that dopey grin. “Baby, I’m not drunk. You are a bit drunk.” 

You frown indignantly. “I am not drunk, I’m tipsy.” 

“Okay, tipsy,” he chuckles. “Are you only kissing me because you’ve had a few drinks?” 

You shake your head fervidly. “No. I’m kissing you now because sober me didn't have the balls to.” 

He laughs again, a little harder. “Are you saying that you’re not going to kiss me again tomorrow?” 

“Oh, I’m definitely not saying that,” you reply. The corner of your lips lift into a smirk as your eyes fall to his puffy pink lips. “You’ve opened the flood gates now. I’m going to have to put my lips on every inch of your body.” 

When your eyes find his again, the pretty green of his irises is almost completely consumed by black, lust-blown pupils. “I’ll be right back,” he says, untangling his limbs from yours. 

You hold on to the waistband of his jeans, not letting him move too far from you. “What are you doing?” 

“Kicking everyone out so we can get to all the kissing and the licking,” he replies, as if it was obvious. 

A soft giggle slips from your lips and you tug on his jeans, pulling him back into your arms. “As much as I love that idea, we should probably get back to celebrating Coyote’s birthday. We’ve got all day tomorrow to kiss and lick and suck and fuck.” 

His jaw slackens and a soft groan rumbles from the back of his throat. “Are you trying to kill me?” 

“Not at all,” you reply with a cheeky grin. “Come on, let’s get back out there before they decide to come back in here.” 

He sighs heavily as you slide off the counter, but before you can exit the kitchen, his hand wraps around your wrist. “We’re going to have to wait a minute,” he says, looking down at his pants. 

You glance down to see a bulge in the dark blue denim at his crotch, the zipper almost straining against the pressure from the inside of his pants. You roll your lips to keep your giggles at bay, and to stop yourself from begging him to fuck you right here in the kitchen regardless of who can hear. 

As if on cue, Bradley’s voice resonates from the living room, “You two better not be fucking in there! My beer is getting low and I will be getting another one no matter how traumatising it might be!” 

END.

[ilium-ilia]

calyptra thalictri

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | "single mom" au | masterlist

6: gut

tw: grief, mentions of non-con

The clock keeps ticking, but nothing moves. 

Stagnant time hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you as you stare at your tenth spreadsheet of the day. Your eyes have grown sensitive to the light recently, easily fatigued by screens and the overhead lights beating down on you worse than the sun in the midst of summer. It burrows into your retina. Worms until the pressure builds in your cranium and it throbs with each beat of your heart. Too much pressure—both internal, and external. 

Yet as you scan the same row you’ve stared at for the better part of the last half hour, you find that you can’t get your brain to stray away from Simon. Muddy thoughts attempt to surface as you remember the events of the weekend. How he showed up to your apartment to pick up his items, how he cooked your food and took care of you, and then… fuzzy. Half connected thoughts of you in bed and him leaving you tucked in. Caring hands. Warm skin.

You woke up to a text from him the next morning. He’s oddly polite—bluntly so. Heavily insisting on checking up on you. On seeing how you’re doing. His kindness makes you uncomfortable, but you’re unsure if it’s because of him, or you. Plagued with an uncertain mind, you have a hard time telling when aid is given out of avarice or sincerity. 

As you close your spreadsheet, you decide that Simon’s actions are certainly out of candor. What could anyone expect or want from you—a single, pregnant woman who hardly has anything to show for herself?

As the ticking of time grows louder, you find the pressure in your bladder growing until it’s unbearable. A balloon stretched to its limits, weight bearing down on it until it threatens to burst, soiling your offals, wetting them. Huffing, you place your hands on your lower stomach for support as you stand before waddling out of your cubicle, thighs pressing together as if to put a cork in the raging tide that yearns to flow between your legs. 

You hardly make it to the toilet before you burst. Knees trembling, diaphragm melting—your head falls into your hands as you will your muscles to relax. You sit on the bowl until your legs grow numb before you force yourself to wash up. Hands running under warm water, you stare at yourself in the mirror with disbelief. 

People always say pregnancy makes you glow, but you wonder if that incandescence has been lost on you. Void of any glimmer, you can find only the dull sheen of fatigue beneath your eyes where it wanders low and deep into your skin, crevices that pull open and wide. Even the thought of attempting to muster a smile only makes your bottom lip quiver, and still you stare at yourself. At this mess. You. 

Nothing but a contemptible creature. 

Drying off your hands, you exit the bathroom where you’re once more surrounded by the dull buzz of conversation and incoming faxes. Sunlight streams from the open office windows, chairs squeak as employees get comfortable, and—

“Do you think it’s some sort of ploy for attention?” 

There’s nothing but a thin privacy wall to separate you and this hushed conversation, but the words bleed through it all the same. Freezing, you keep your eyes straight ahead as you hear paper rustle by the printer hidden somewhere on your left. 

“Attention?” The second voice belongs to a man—Ed, you think. A nasally voice that’s trying too hard to sound deep and throaty. 

“Well, think about it.” Jane. You’d recognize her voice anywhere—your friend. The only person in the office who manages to drag you outside of your home. “She’s not finding any man of her own, and she can’t really compete with any of the rest of us as far as personality.” 

“That’s a little blunt,” Ed defends. 

Plastic scrapes against itself as something slams shut on the printer. “Just speaking the truth is all. Seriously, I think this pregnancy is her way of garnering sympathy. She’ll get people to coo over her, maybe even pity her because she doesn’t know who the dad is and will probably swindle some poor guy into giving her help.” 

Ed scoffs. “Only an idiot would step in to help with a mess like that.”

“I think an idiot is exactly who she’s looking for,” Jane says with a bitter chuckle. “Doesn’t matter who they are as long as they’re willing to feed into her sob story, right? Look, all I’m saying is don’t expect to see me at the baby shower. Lord knows I’ve given that girl enough as is.” 

A barbed hook pierces through your chest, curls, then tugs. It catches on everything. Flesh, tendon, bone—it does not discriminate. You feel it cut. Shatter. Split. It leaves behind nothing but a gaping hole large enough that not even this growing creature inside of you can fill. 

The rest of their conversation is lost on your fuzzy hearing as you trudge back to your desk. Your monitor has managed to turn off, but you pay it no mind as you hit the power button on the tower. Fans slow to a stop as your computer powers down, and you make quick work of the sparse items at your desk. A water bottle, a cardigan, a stress ball—it’s all shoved into your bag before you turn on your heels and dart out of the building as fast as your swollen feet will carry you. 

You do not say goodbye. You doubt anyone will miss you anyway. 

No one pays you any attention on the transit home. You shove yourself into the tube and keep your head down and pretend as if the moisture isn’t welling in your eyes. Nobody spares you a second glance. There’s no pitiful nods or awkward smiles. There’s not a single shred of kindness to be found underneath the streets of London, and the same can be said for the space above ground. Shoulders scrape against yours during the afternoon rush as you dart into your apartment building, fingers trembling as you hit the buttons on the lift, lips pressing together as you rise up several floors. 

The waterworks start the moment the door closes and locks behind you. Hot tears that have no care for your skin or the way it burns as it streams down your cheeks. Hand clasped over your mouth, you stumble into the living room and collapse onto the couch, knees curling up to your chest as far as your stomach will allow. A sinking suspicion has nettled beneath your skin for a long time now that this is how people truly see you—some useless thing that’s better tossed aside rather than cherished. 

The nettling has turned into poison now that you’ve heard proof exit the mouth of the only person you could have ever cared to call a friend. 

It takes you half an hour to pull yourself off of the couch and into your bedroom. Shoes abandoned halfway through the hallway, you peel your work clothes off of your body and leave them in a heaping pile on the floor, wiping at the stray tears on your face with the discarded cloth. 

Waves of hormones hit you relentlessly until you’re drowning beneath the surface. You’re hardly able to get your nightshirt on before you’re sobbing again, knees collapsing until you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, ugly crying into your palms. It is beyond you how you are capable of growing a new life and yet you still feel the most alone and isolated that you ever have. 

A knock sounds on your door just as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. You’ve moved back to the living room, cuddled up underneath a blanket as some show drones on the television loud enough to drown out your thoughts of self-deprecation. Something within you tells you to ignore the noise, but when it happens again you know the musician behind such ruckus will not retreat until they are heard. 

You drag yourself to the door, hands pulling at your nightshirt. It’s long enough to be a dress, falling just above your knees, covering the swell of your stomach—you’ve started to outgrow all your other pyjamas. Trying not to care for your appearance, you swing the door open just enough to peek your head through. 

“Evenin’ Angel.” 

It’s him—Simon. 

Who else would it be? 

He stands just as tall as ever, hands shoved in the pockets of his jumper, but his hood is down this time, revealing short cropped hair. His throat bobs as he swallows, eyes tracing you up and down as he awaits your response.

“Oh. Hi, Simon,” you greet. Your words are tense and awkward on your tongue, falling from your lips like a baby bird flung from the nest too soon. Wiping at your face, you try not to curse at the swelling of your eyes and the visible evidence of your near mental breakdown. “Uh… is there something you need?” 

“Just wanted to check up on ya,” he says bluntly. 

“That’s okay, you don’t have-”

His palm lays flat against the door, forearm following after it, and with his jumper for cushioning he pushes against the wood. It falls out of your grasp, but it is gentle—leaves knocking around in the autumn wind. Stepping back, you watch as he enters your home as if he has each step memorized. He locks the deadbolt behind him but his eyes don’t leave you for a moment. 

“Simon, you don’t have to do this,” you finish. 

He silences you with his fingers against your cheek. You freeze. Algid blood in your veins, slowing down your heart, widening your eyes as he drifts far enough until he’s cupped your face in his palm. He’s warm against your tear-stained skin. Almost warm enough to evaporate all the moisture that remains. 

“You’ve been cryin,” he notes, thumb pressing into the plush fat that lies beneath your eye. “What’s wrong, Angel?” 

Taut lips roll inwards on themselves as you close your eyes. There’s no breath deep enough in the entire world to prevent this next onslaught of tears that spew out of you. Snot thickening in your nose, head shaking, your head falls forward, but Simon refuses to remove his hand. 

His grip finds your lower back just as you curse. Boots still heavy on his feet, he leads you back to the half-formed nest you created on your couch where he sits and drags you next to him. The pressure of his palm leads you to his chest, but you fight. Shaking your head, he allows you to, and instead opts to run his fingers along your spine instead. 

“This isn’t fair to you.” Nearly each word you speak is punctuated with a sniffle, uncontrollable and painful in your chest. 

“What do you mean?” Simon asks. 

“Oh, I know how this looks!” you wail. Your hands finally fall away from your eyes, shame consuming your heart as you look at him. He’s leaning forward, an elbow on his knee, head bent forward as he listens, as he watches, as he studies. “Some unmarried woman, pregnant with someone else’s kid. I know what people think. That I’m just trying to garner sympathy, or swindle you for help, is that it? I’m just taking advantage of you and your kindness.” 

Simon’s eyes darken as you speak, like storm clouds closing in on a pale horizon. His hand stills on your back, palm pressed against you, warmth seeping through your shirt and into your skin. His fingers twitch along your spine, and it nearly stuns the hiccups out of you. 

“Who got you all in your head like this, Angel?” he questions. 

Angel. What a cruel nickname, you think. Is that why you’re stuck in this mess—because you’re one of God’s chosen? His most loved? Are you truly loved enough to be forced to endure such turmoil? 

“Nothing,” you say, defensive. You are wary of this kindness. “No one. Just some stupid conversation at work. It’s nothing.” 

Simon’s hand begins to move again, fingertips tracing up to the nape of your neck where he lets his thumb swipe just below your hairline before traveling back down. “It isn’t right, blamin’ you for this. You’re so tired, aren’t you? Yeah, I can see it. Workin’ so hard, all alone with no one to help you.” 

Hearing it out loud is worse than anything your own mind could conjure. Each syllable twists the knife deeper and deeper, forcing your gaze away from him as you try to hold back another sob. 

“But you remember what I said the other night, don’t you? Said I’d take care of you. Both of you,” he continues. His hand stills as he slides away from your back and to your side, grip curling into your waist as he scoots closer. “If you want it, Angel. Doesn’t seem like the daddy’ll be comin’ back ‘round anytime soon, anyway.” 

You’re shaking now. Tender flesh trembling beneath his touch as you keep your hand plastered over your mouth, eyes squeezed shut as tears soak your lap and fingers. The lack of response has Simon tilting his head—nothing but a curious animal—and he reaches for you. Chin tilting up to look at him, thumb pressed against your cheek, urging your eyes open; you’re beautiful. Even as you fracture and crumble in his hands, he feels his core growing tight. 

“Tell me ‘bout him, Angel. The man who gave you this little gift—” his hand falls to your stomach now, “—did he hurt you?” 

There it is—the last wall comes crumbling down. 

It takes everything within him not to grin when you collapse against him, wet face tucked in the crook of his neck as you let him hold you. His arms wrap around you, pulling you as close as you can get, and he hums as he feels the swell of your stomach press against his ribs. Nose against the crown of your head, he murmurs sweet nothings to you. Petty promises. It’s an impressive feat that his teeth don’t puncture your skin as he speaks—wretched animal, all bite with a bark that comes only after the slaughter. 

“It’s all right,” he whispers, voice low in his throat. “I’ll be here to take care of ya, yeah? Both of you. Like I said. Nothing’s gonna hurt you again, Angel.” 

You’re clinging to each word he speaks; the only ounce of comfort you’ve been given since this whole ordeal started. Hands pawing at his chest, fingers curling into his shirt, you nod—you thank him for his kindness. You’ll take anything he gives you, even if you’re not sure why he’s offering it to begin with. 

As Simon continues to whisper comforting promises against your skin, you sob, each shuddering breath forcing you to inhale the scent of him, and you try not to wonder why this redolence seems so familiar.

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[phantomsies]

no thots, just going on a camping trip with ace :)

wc: 1.8K

fresh air on a warm summer night, the ripple of small insects and discarded rocks across the muggy lake waters, intermittent gusts of wind passing through the thick trees, the crackle of debris underneath rubber soled shoes…it was all of these little things that made Ace love the outdoors. Being one with nature and exploring the beautiful unknown, one hike, fishing expedition or camping trip at a time!

it wasn’t uncommon for the spontaneous traveler to just up and decide on a whim that he was going to pack up his supplies, load up his old beater of a Silverado with enough food and water to feed an army for the weekend and head out to his next destination. Albeit a spring with glistening water or a forest some sixty miles away from home. His cell phone was only left on so that worried loved ones were aware of his location…

“..don’t worry about me, I’ll be back in a few days!” Otherwise, his only connection was to the furry animals that made his acquaintance and the earth itself. It was something about the whole experience that awakened his primal instincts…

but perhaps nothing awoken said urges more than when he decided to invite his beloved (y/n) (l/n) along for a weekend excursion to the infamous Twin Flames Peak. A recreational park that was known for its incredible hiking areas, breathtaking waterfalls and the stunning view of the stars at night over the campsites. Yes, he was thrilled to have the company of another fellow outdoorsman and one with such a pretty face to boot!

Watching intently as you tie your box braids up in a neat bun in the passenger seat of his truck. Clear gloss smearing your luscious lips and not another speck of makeup on that perfect canvas..a feeling of warmth and sheer happiness encompassing him as he watches you glide your nimble hands up and down those smooth, brown legs with coats of lotion; just in awe of how the sunlight captures the essence of your gorgeous dark skin underneath its rays. “Careful, babe. You get out smelling all sweet and looking this good, you might attract some unwanted guests.” “Well that’s what I have my big strong man for. You’ll protect me, right?” Joking as you thought he’d probably be insane enough to try and go toe to toe with a damn bear!

Despite it all, he knows he’s got nothing to worry about. Ace has watched you handle your own throughout the rough and tumble. Yes, this gorgeous woman who can pitch a tent and lug firewood just as well as she can put on a designer dress and shake ass at the club…would be spending three whole days out here in the wilderness with him. Those once primal instincts that activated when he sensed nearby danger or felt hunger and rations were low..

had now shifted towards you. Like a predator lying in wait on its prey to slip up, he glared hungrily as you strutted in front of him in those biker shorts and tank top. That plump, toned ass swaying with each step as the two of you trekked to the campsite. His mouth practically watering for a taste of what lies between those somehow thick thighs…

the ratio of your proportions would be enough to turn anyone into a rabid beast. “You better keep up back there, I might leave you behind.” “Is that right? Maybe I like it back here.” Tossing him a wink as you wave to him with a beckoning finger. It’s in this moment that Ace realizes he can no longer sate his carnal desires..discreetly cupping at the tent in his shorts before instructing you to stop at a nearby tree with some made up lie about needing to fix something on your gear. It’s then that he makes his move..

launching the first attack with his lips practically melded to yours in a haze of passion. His tongue descends deeper between your jaws with deep grunts and whimpers to follow…sweaty palms ravenously groping at your tits as the bottom half is sent upwards to be pinched between your teeth for comfort. Ace knows you’ll need it for his lecherous plans to defile your body right here in the forest! Nightfall is soon to come so others are scarce, meaning that he didn’t need to hold back.

instead, he’d instruct you to wrap your arms around the back of the tree and hold still..with a gentle suck of his teeth and muttered expletives under his breath, he’d run those fingers down the curvature your torso before not so subtly shoving his hand in the seat of your panties. He can feel your warmth..the arousal already forming only seconds in. ”You’re wet, babe. That’s a lil’ surprising..” Chuckling as the sounds of your stirred up slick met the crackle of the leaves.

two digits slowly make place on that budding clit and your reaction is priceless! An adorable yelp before tossing your hand over your mouth to shield those whimpers. However, you don’t resist..you don’t even tell him to stop. You just continue working the pads of his index and middle fingers..rolling those hips as you peer down over your stomach. Meanwhile, those exposed tits gently bounce each time he jolts a finger in and out of you.

Hell, he knew the thought of lewd acts in a public place was a bit shameful but it was called the wild for a reason. You were merely mammals, acting in the way you were intended to..no need to be bashful of that!

he’d smugly reach for that hand and peel it back from your mouth whilst those pumps grew faster.

“Instead of trying to hide those moans, pretty girl..squeeze those nipples f’r me. You’ll feel a lot better.”

“Ace, we’ve gotta stop this. I’m gonna fucking come—“

in that moment, your breath hitched in your throat and you realized those pleas were futile because that was his plan. To make you reach climatic bliss right under the night sky. “Then do it..why hold back? Because you’re embarrassed?..afraid we’ll get caught?” His words seeped into your brain as his teeth and lips met your neck once more. Like a carnivorous beast, he’d scrape along your skin before gently grazing you with bites. “Because I’m not. Hell, I hope they see us..see me fucking you like a little slut.”

The entire prospect had him so aroused, he couldn't help but to shuffle those pants to his waistline and tease the head of his throbbing cock against your slick folds. Which prompted him to suck his teeth. “Listen at that..it’s like your little pussy is just begging to be stuffed.” Without haste, he’d snatch your head towards him and force you to focus on that thick member rubbing on your clit. “So beg me, babe. Beg me to fuck you.” It was such a different side of him than before. The jovial, wide eyed camper turned deviant animal had you in his claws with no plans to release…and you had no complaints! So you’d fulfill his wish and plead to feel him inside of you. To be pinned against this tree and fucked until your eyes trailed to the back of your skull.

“Please..fuck me. I don’t care if anyone hears us. I need you..”

it was all he needed to feel affirmed. For you to be equally as carefree as he was. Your shorts had been residing at your knees so he’d finish removing them before hoisting a leg to his shoulder and keeping his eyes focused on your own. “Good girl. That’s all you had to say.” In a moment's notice, you’d find yourself impaled on him; split open by that tip and a few more inches. Releasing loud wails, the two of you moved like a well oiled machine. His hips snapping without so much as slowing down and you meeting those thrusts. The sounds of your skin smacking colliding with the ruffle of the leaves underneath your shoes and of course, the foul words escaping those lips.

“You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart..I hope you’ve been taking your pill because I can’t wait to breed all these pretty holes. Make you walk back to camp with all my cum in you…that’ll be so fucking sexy. Maybe we should’ve brought your plug too.”

meanwhile, you were honing in on massaging your clit, even lobbing a trail of saliva down your tummy to aid in those strokes. Giggling at how calculated his plan whilst gasping and moaning.

“How long have you been waiting to get me out here like this?”

“Only since forever.”

and he had no plans to squander this opportunity. Only to make it worth both of your time. Cradling a hand to the back of your neck, Ace keeps your faces glued to one another..eventually drawing you closer for some deep, sloppy pecks. Those lips smacking as loud as the wet skin below; hips bucking..snapping with each movement and the next thrust growing harder than the last. Praising you for the way you took him so easily. His pace quickens and he can’t seem to slow down…hell, he’s insatiable and the only cure is to feel that tight hole squeezing him and squirting all over his shaft. The sensation of that warmth continuously wrapping around him..pulling him back in each time he felt as if he was going to slip out.

it was evident by the tears welling in your eyes that you were close and who was he to deny you the sweet surrender of an orgasm?

“Oh my gosh! Fuck..right there, right there—“

“Come f’r me, pretty girl. Let it out…come all over this dick.”

each stroke from then on brought forth spurts of wetness, until that little bladder emptied all over his shoes and the ground beneath. But that wasn’t the end..no, he couldn’t let up until he saw his earlier promise through. So he’d force himself through that overly sensitive flesh..getting only half of those eight or so inches before it’d begin to snap. Even so, he persists..because the only thing he wants is to feel that seed pouring into your womb. And it’s not long before his wish is granted. You’d pull him in close, pleading with him to fill you to the brim. Marking his back previously and now with those deep scratch marks, signifying that he was your territory and now he’d done the same..all but growling as he empties his balls into you and leaves a stream of that hot white load embedded inside of you. Chest heaving and curse words are still spewing from his mouth, along with a laugh.

“Fuck..I swear you bring out the worst in me.”

“Says the one whose idea it was in the first goddamn place.”

but there aren’t any complaints. It was no secret you enjoyed this as much as he did. And those primal urges were only just beginning to be quelled…

“Well I have a better idea..why don’t we go for round two when we get back to the tent?”

after all, you had a long weekend ahead of you!

[buryhny]

One Night Stand ; 10

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n → contains smut, fluff and angst → Chapter ten ; wc | 3 k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Jungkook's pov

It's quiet during the drive, but my mind is racing with thoughts. The impulsive part of me questions, 'What are you doing, Jungkook? Who is she to you? Why are you helping her? Stop wasting your time.' Meanwhile, my moral guide, reassures me that I'm doing the right thing by helping, supporting, and taking responsibility like a gentleman.

Unsure which voice to follow, I decide to go with my mind since I never trust my heart. As I enter my house, silence greets me, my footsteps echoing in the empty hallways. Bam doesn't greet me, so I assume he's asleep. As I walk to the kitchen for a glass of water, I reflect on the satisfaction of helping but remind myself to be aware of the consequences.

I'm involved in a situation that could be shameful if discovered. I can avoid being implicated, but I'm not sure if Y/n can handle it. I could be selfish if I listened to my impulses, but my rational side steps in, guiding me to follow my mind without involving emotions. 'Do your part, Jeon Jungkook, and good things will come,' I tell myself.

After placing the half-empty glass on the counter, I head upstairs for a shower and bed. My mind refuses to shut down, replaying thoughts about work, investments, Bam's appointments, my checkups, and Y/n. She's probably asleep, overthinking, or relieved, while I stare at the ceiling until exhaustion finally takes over after a couple of hours.

;

The morning sun hasn't risen yet, but I'm awake before my alarm, likely due to Bam's squeaks and whines. "Bammie," I call softly to my Doberman, who looks at me with his puppy eyes. It's yoga time. I believe in shaping my life purposefully. Waking up at 5 a.m., I don't reach for my phone first thing, and I advise others against it.

It's a waste of time. Statistics show 62% of people reach for their phones first thing in the morning, and 44% do so after snoozing their alarms. I'm proud not to be one of them. I put on my yoga pants, roll out the mat, and sit down with Bam on his own mat. He may not do yoga perfectly, but he enjoys mimicking my stretches and trying new positions. It's our routine, and he loves weekends because I'm around more. Our 5 a.m. yoga sessions are calming, especially with the quiet streets waiting for the sunrise.

I start with basic positions, taking deep breaths as I stretch. Bam follows with his dog stretches, making me chuckle at his antics. We continue until the morning sunlight fully brightens the day. "Good start, I'll prepare your breakfast, come Bam." After rolling up the mats and placing them against the yoga room wall, I head to the kitchen. I prepare Bam's meal of fully cooked chicken and beef, adhering to the saying 'breakfast should be eaten like a king.'

Bam's breakfast is a high-protein meal with his favorite meats; he absolutely hates fish and won't eat it, even if I offer it. I respect his preferences and avoid getting fish for him, as his likes and tastes are very important to me.

For myself, I prepare a full English breakfast: two fried eggs, caramelized bacon, toasted bread, and a slice of avocado toast with a cup of tea. This is my Saturday morning ritual, and I never skip it. I usually eat lightly during the week, but weekends start with a hearty meal to fuel the days ahead. As I toss the bacon onto the plate and wait for Bam's beef to boil, I put two slices of multigrain bread into the toaster and grill a slice of baguette for my avocado toast.

Once Bam's protein is fully cooked, I let it cool before cutting it into pieces. I wrap the remaining meat in foil for his dinner, place his food in his bowl, and add a well-done egg on the side. "Bam, sit!" He obediently sits in his spot, and I place the bowl in front of him. He waits for my command, "Come on, eat!" I pat his head and return to the kitchen as my toast is ready. I don't usually sit at the dining table; the emptiness bothers me, so I lean against the counter, watching Bam enjoy his meal while I eat mine.

Living in a mansion has its pros and cons. In hindsight, building such a large house seems wasteful since I barely use most of the rooms. There are about ten large rooms that have never been used. After finishing my toast, I clean the kitchen and take a shower. Weekends aren't free for me.

Running a business that's the second-best advertising agency in Seoul requires constant attention. Every decision and detail must be managed and organized by me, so weekends are never a day off, even though my employees are capable of handling things in my absence.

I look at the suit and shoes in my closet, ironed with no creases. It amuses me that people see me only as a CEO. I'm much more than that; I'm still a 28-year-old man who wears sweatshirts and pants when alone at home. But this side of me is not widely accepted. I put on the suit, button up, and apply my black vanilla-scented perfume, a gift from my ex-girlfriend. Despite disliking everything about her, this perfume is too good to discard.

Bam's caretaker arrives just in time before I leave for work at 8 a.m. as usual. Although workdays are Monday to Friday, my dedicated employees often work on Saturdays to avoid a Monday backlog. They don't ask for extra pay and work for about two hours. To my surprise, Y/n arrives at the same time as I do. She usually doesn't work weekends. Her style has changed; today, she's wearing an oversized sweater and skirt layered with a coat, her style is understandable even though the dress code is required, she's an exception due to her pregnancy.

She gives me a soft smile and a bow as our eyes meet. We take the same elevator, maintaining a polite distance. She looks refreshed this morning. We part ways when she reaches her floor, and the day progresses as usual.

Park Jimin has been quiet for weeks, a welcome change with no complaints or requests from him. It's a positive development. Mr. Jung and Y/n have lunch together, bonding well—a healthy sign. I didn't interact with Y/n today, and she left earlier than I did. As an employee, her work is outstanding. Her design skills have significantly improved, making her stand out among our graphic designers. She has a bright future, and I'm glad she chose to work at Jeon Industries.

Sundays always pass slower. Maybe it's the workaholic in me that can't bear spending a day doing anything besides work, but it is what it is. Everyone must admit that Sundays should be taken off the week. It's nothing but a waste of good 24 hours that could be used better. If I had the choice, I would have open working hours for Sunday too but my employees wouldn't like that and I respect their choices too. Hence, I sit on my couch, staring at the tv playing a rubbish movie that I don't understand one bit.

Bam rests his head on my lap as I run my hand over his short fur, giving him the comfort I neither have nor desire. Touch disgusts me. Cuddles and random kisses are nauseating, like a stain on a brand new white shirt—that's what a hug or kiss feels like.

Sex is different. Sex is just sex. Kissing during sex is merely a way to turn someone on, and touching is part of the act. But kissing and touching out of love? That's horrifying. People need to stop. Watching it gives me anxiety. A cuddle feels like a python wrapping around you, tightening until you can't breathe. I've never cuddled, and I never will.

Bam lifts his head from my lap, his loving eyes meeting mine. "Want something, Bam?" He lets out a soft whine, nudging his nose against my waist and making me laugh. "Bammie, walk time? Alright, stop—s-stop, Bam!" He finally stops when I mention the walk, sitting on the couch and waiting patiently for me to get up.

;

Author's pov

Monday unfolds like any other Monday. Jungkook remains in his office, immersed in the latest deal. You're feeling more at ease today, noting that the spotting has remained minimal, just a few red dots. You're hopeful that it's a sign of things finally slowing down and eventually stopping altogether. "Ms. Lee, I think you left this on my desk on Saturday,"

Beomgyu says, handing you a file you thought you'd misplaced at home. You thank him and quickly check to see if everything is in order. Fortunately, all the papers are intact, and you let out a deep breath of relief. Just then, Rosé rushes towards you, carrying a pile of multi-colored paper files. "Y/n, Hoseok's waiting for you at the cafeteria," she says hastily. "Thanks," you reply, smiling as she hurries off to avoid losing her balance.

Hoseok had plans to visit you this weekend, but you didn't want him to come over since you were still feeling down, making the usually cheerful Hoseok a bit gloomy. You take the elevator and meet him at the cafe. There he is, pouting and playing with his sugar cookie decorated with a little duck. You walk over to him, trying to suppress a smile. "Hi, Hoba—" "You canceled our plans? That's not fair. You didn't even dance with me at the business party last week."

Hoseok is teasing you, and you can't help but play along because he's so endearing. "I'm sorry, Hoba, how can I make it up to you?" you ask, sitting beside him. He sighs dramatically before pulling out a beautifully decorated cookie with cheesecake sugar icing. "Nothing, just have this. I made it." Your eyes widen in surprise. You knew Hoseok could bake, but seeing this adorable creation amazes you. "You made this for me? You drew this?!!"

you exclaim, examining the detailed icing. "Of course, it's my secret talent," he whispers, giggling and flashing his lovely smile. "Try it, tell me how it tastes," he urges, eyes sparkling with anticipation. You don't want to ruin the little masterpiece, but you can't resist his pleading.

"Let me take a picture first." You pull out your phone, snap a photo, and then take a bite. The cookie is soft, decadent, and filled with delicious strawberry jam. You close your eyes, savoring the taste, a smile spreading across your face. "How is it?" Hoseok whispers, anxious to know if his efforts have paid off. "Tell me!!!" "Hobi, this is the best thing I've eaten in months!" you declare, and Hoseok claps his hands in delight. Seeing your happiness fills him with satisfaction. "Give me that bag—I'm taking it home!!!!"

Packing up your things, you realize the office is once again empty, leaving only you and your CEO behind. After a dull weekend, today had gone surprisingly well. Work and lunch were great, and you felt a sense of contentment. Jungkook stands in your doorway, watching you pack up with a gentle smile. This time feels different; he's not just waiting for you to leave but seems to be genuinely enjoying the moment. "I'm done, Mr. Je—" you start,

but then pause as a strange sensation between your legs makes you frown. Jungkook notices your change in expression and mirrors your concern. "Y/n? Is everything fine?" he asks. "Yeah, I think so," you reply, but as you take another step, the sensation grows more alarming. "I think I need to use the washroom," you mumble, your words barely coherent. Jungkook, confused, watches as you drop your bag and rush towards the corridor.

He sets his bag down and follows you, stopping just outside the restroom door. You lean against the cabinet, not bothering to enter a stall. There's no one else around, and you know Jungkook won't intrude without permission. Taking a deep breath, you try to push away the negative thoughts flooding your mind.

You remove your coat, untuck your shirt, and pull your skirt down just enough to see. With closed eyes, you whisper to yourself, "Whatever it is, just not the same color. Anything but that." When you open your eyes, you see a darker splash of blood. Your chest tightens, and you struggle to breathe.

Your mind goes blank, filled only with anxiety. You grip the cabinet so tightly your knuckles turn white. "I'm bleeding, shit," you finally mutter. Everything seems to turn black, the walls closing in on you. You sink to your knees, curling up against the wall, tears streaming down your face. Jungkook hears your cries and rushes in. Seeing you on the floor, weeping and holding your visibly showing stomach, he understands the gravity of the situation. "Y/n—"

"I'm bleeding, Jungkook, please," you whisper. Though your voice is faint, he catches the urgency in it. He kneels beside you, noticing your struggle to breathe and realizing you're having an anxiety attack. He places his hands on your shoulders, feeling the tension. "Hey, look at me, Y/n! I want you to close your eyes and try to breathe," he urges.

You push him away, feeling suffocated and unable to catch your breath. "Y/n, look at me!" he yells, his eyes filled with concern. "You're alright, the baby is alright. Take a deep breath—"

"I can't—" you gasp. "Yes, you can. If you want the baby to be fine, you need to take a breath. Come on!" he insists. Crying, you follow his instructions, trying to calm down for the sake of the little one inside you. Slowly, you manage to steady your breathing. "We need to get you to the doctor. I'll take you," Jungkook says, his voice firm but gentle.

The drive to the hospital was a blur of sniffles, sobs, and tears. Jungkook didn't ask any questions; he knew you couldn't answer. You could barely breathe, let alone speak. He drove as fast as he could, hoping Dr. So Hee would still be available despite it being 7 PM. "Dr. So Hee? It's an emergency—" Jungkook began as soon as you entered the building, but the receptionist cut him off. "Sorry, sir, she's not accepting any appointments now."

"Inform her that Ms. Lee Y/n is the patient—" "Sir, it's not possible—" "God damn—" "Y/n?" Dr. So Hee appeared behind the two of you, bag in hand, ready to leave. The moment you met her eyes, you broke down. She saw the distress and immediately understood. "I'll take them. Ms. Lee, come with me." You followed Dr. So Hee, leaving Jungkook to handle the payment. Once inside her office, you took a seat, your body trembling. "What's the matter, Y/n?"

"Dr., I'm bleeding—I have no idea what happened. I was fine over the weekend, but now I'm bleeding," you said, voice shaky. "Is it spotting?" "No, it's more than that," you replied, just as Jungkook knocked and poked his head in. "May I come in?" he asked. Dr. So Hee nodded, allowing him to enter and sit beside you. "Is it more like a puddle or like a period?"

Dr. So Hee asked. "A puddle," you said, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over you. Your crying had stopped, but you kept sniffing and fidgeting.

Dr. So Hee sighed. "I can't do an examination right now, but I have a few questions. May I ask them?" You nodded. "do you have hormonal imbalance? have you dealt with it during your teens? or maybe you've smoked or are a heavy drinker?" You met her eyes, hesitant to respond with Jungkook beside you. "I was a heavy drinker and smoker for about three years. I stopped smoking, but I occasionally drink. and yes, i've dealt with hormonal imbalance, still do."

"since you were unaware of your pregnancy, did you consume alcohol?" You closed your eyes, feeling ashamed. "I did drink a few times before I knew I was pregnant." Dr. So Hee nodded while Jungkook maintained a poker face, though clearly surprised.

"I need you to visit me tomorrow at 10:30 AM. I will do a full examination. For now, don't take any pills, drink plenty of water, and stay with a parent or friend. You shouldn't be alone tonight considering your panicking state."

You nodded, and Jungkook did too. "Meet me tomorrow, Y/n, and please take care." Walking back to Jungkook's car, you stood in front of it, breathing in the open air. Jungkook hesitated but finally asked, "Are you okay?" Looking down, you felt the tears welling up again. "You think I'll be okay?" He licked his lips, unsure of what to say. "You've got someone at home, right?" When you didn't respond, he frowned. "Wait, you live alone?"

Avoiding his gaze, you felt your temper rising. "I'll do what I want." He gasped, realizing the implications. "Does your mom know about this?" Closing your eyes, you bit your inner cheek. Jungkook stepped closer, his concern turning to frustration. "What do you think you're doing with your mom knowing nothing? Do you have any idea about the consequen—"

"I'm a big girl, Jungkook. I know exactly what I'm doing, and none of it matters to you!" you snapped, meeting his eyes with a furious glare. "Does anyone know about this? Or is it just me?" "Jungkook, stop getting into my business. You helped me, thank you. That's it. I didn't ask for help, so don't involve yourself in this mess," you said, stepping closer,

the safe distance between you almost gone. "I've been in this mess since day one. Y/n, you're not doing the right thing by keeping things to yourself. You need to be with someone tonight—" "I can manage on my own!" you shouted, furious at his condescending tone. The distance between you vanished, your faces inches apart.

"You can't!" "Yes, I can!"

"That's it. You're coming with me!"

"Drink up," he muttered, holding a glass of water in front of you to help prevent further choking. Jungkook had anticipated this reaction and regretted not telling you at a more suitable time, instead of during dinner when you were devouring pizza as if you hadn't eaten in days. Once you calmed down, you glared at him, and he gulped, leaving you even more confused.

"Is this a prank?" you asked, and he rolled his eyes. "When have I ever pranked you?" "So, you're telling me I'm going with you on a business trip to France?" Your voice rose sharply in pitch and volume. Jungkook wasn't entirely confident about this decision. He had planned for you to stay home, believing nothing could go wrong.

But everything could go wrong, especially when you least expect it. You raised an eyebrow, seeking an explanation, and he nodded, prompting you to sigh. "But why?" The speed of your speech irked him, though he didn't want to show it and risk another argument. He was exhausted and needed sleep. Jungkook slurped his noodles, trying to ease the tension, but his actions only fueled your anger.

"Jungkook, I asked you, why?" "Because I can't leave you alone." "Why not?" Your rapid-fire questions left him struggling to think clearly. He needed time to form his sentences to avoid mistakes, but you weren't giving him any.

"I don't think it's safe to leave you here alone. No one around knows about your condition, and you have strict meal times. I know you'd skip meals." He spoke in one breath, and you scowled at him. "I'm trying to consider your concerns. It's hard for me to process this."

"that's up to me and It's hard for me too, alright?" Your words came out faster, laced with sarcasm, making communication even more difficult since neither of you managed your anger well. "Then take me home. It won't be hard for you anymore."

You almost stood up, but he grabbed your wrist, stopping you. Exhaling, he closed his eyes and shook his head, signaling you not to do this because he knew how hungry you were. "What?" you asked in frustration.

"Eat up." His tone was firm and authoritative. After a moment, you sat back down. His persistence in caring for you was pretty impressive, and even though it was hard to accept, you appreciated that he took responsibility for his actions. Not many men do, especially regarding pregnancy.

You sat back and stared at the now-cold pizza. He looked at it too, then at you from the corner of his eye. "Think it over. I'm not forcing you. Just let me know before Thursday." You nodded, took a bite of the pizza, and chewed thoughtfully. Jungkook felt guilty for disrupting your meal and wished he had waited until morning. 'I'm so stupid,' he thought, picking at his food before finishing it, having starved himself all day.

When he was done, he threw away the trash and drank a glass of water. He saw you crushing the pizza box after licking your fingers. 'This is unhealthy,' he thought, knowing you should have more nutritious meals. But he couldn't help but notice how much weight you had lost in the past two months.

He remembered how vibrant and cheerful you looked when he first met you—damn stress. After washing your hands, you wiped your lips and headed upstairs. "Hey, don't sleep yet. You need to take your medicines."

You nodded, climbing the stairs with Bam following, bringing a smile to your face. Jungkook felt everything was happening too fast, from learning about the pregnancy to you staying at his place. He wasn't comfortable with the sudden changes, and both of you needed time to adjust—a long time.

You felt awkward walking around, always aware that this was Jungkook's place—your boss's place. He wasn't used to having a woman in his home, so he suggested this idea, though he hadn't thought it through. On the bright side, you weren't difficult to handle. Despite frequent arguments, you were content in your own quiet world.

He went to his bedroom, checked the time, and set a reminder to give you your medicine in an hour. He took his laptop from his bag and began replying to pending emails.

"Bam, funny how we got along so well. It hasn't even been 4 days and we're friends!" you cupped his face, his eyes flapping as you held them and talked to him while he looked at your eyes with his extremely adorable pair. "Should I go with him? I don't know, isn't it weird?" you asked the dog who tilted his head, like he understands. He does this action whenever Jungkook talks to him too.

"I may be scared to stay home alone too, I won't disagree." trailing your words with a pout on your face, your eyes turned to the sound of your notifications as the phone blinked. Grabbing it you look at who texted you only to see Kayla's 56th message. You're not texting her because it's getting tougher to be in contact with her. She asks you out for parties, dinners and other events that you're not interested in and you can't really engage in that sort of activity.

It's unsafe. You don't have the courage to explain everything to her, the whole damn story. Kayla is a good friend but she's not a very close friend, you are doubtful of her reactions. Bam leaves you alone in your thought bubble, zoned out and thinking about the other people in your life. Another text popped out and you noticed that this time it was from Hoseok, the smile on your face creeped up.

[ from Hoseok ] What's up? :0

[ Y/ n ] Missing me?

[ From Hoseok ] Yes :(

[ y/n ] Oh no, bake a sugar cookie!!

Oh those sugar cookies were heaven, you think and almost salivate at the thought of them. and remembering the cutest drawings Hobi drew for you, he's the sweetest person you've ever met.

[ From Hoseok ] Who's gonna eat them? you're not here :(

[ y/n ] eat them for me you're a baby Mr Jung, I must show these texts to Mr Jeon.

[ From Hoseok ] Hey, I'm not!

[ y/n ] sure thing

[ From Hoseok ] but really, work was so dull without you

[ y/n ] I'll be back soon, okay?

[ From Hoseok ] How soon?

How soon? How am I gonna answer that question? you ask yourself, the smile on your face dropping as you leave him on seen for a few minutes to think about how you should respond to his question.

Hoseok lays on his couch, waiting in your chat until you reply to him, the pout on his face getting heavy with the minutes that pass by.

He sits upright on his sofa, staring at the screen while the television screen plays the random show of grey's anatomy that Hoseok hasn't watched ever in his life.

[ Y/n ] idkkk, soon?

your reply does not satisfy Hoseok enough, laying back on his couch he heaves a sigh as he replies to you with a :) and turns off his phone, he misses his friend a little too much. Hoseok looks at the telly and chuckles, he doesn't realise that his friend does mean a lot to him.

You place your phone on the coffee table beside you, getting on your feet and walking towards the glass door that opens to the balcony. The cold wind pulls you out, placing your hands on the railing as you look out at the clear dark blue sky, the moon having its usual soft glow but never fails to amaze you.

you're not a moon person, you're more of a sun girl, especially the sun at the beach and it's funny how you haven't been to a shore in a long time, the last time you remember was.. with your ex. you haven't been able to meet the coast the same way, it's where your ex broke up with you claiming that he's suddenly got commitment issues, so abruptly after dating you for 7 months then officially being in a relationship with you for over 3 months.

He could have at least come up with a better excuse to break up with you—maybe explain what triggered his so-called "commitment issues." But no, he chose your favorite spot in the world to drop such heartbreaking news. What a coward. You looked up at the moon, its soft glow surrounded by twinkling stars,

and all you could think about was how much you missed your mom. Her face appeared in your mind—round, pink, and full of warmth, with those dimples at the corners of her mouth that you always loved to poke with your finger. The moon reminded you so much of her face that it brought a small giggle to your lips.

There were two outdoor couches set up perfectly for stargazing, so you decided to take a seat. Stargazing wasn't something you did often, but tonight, the setting felt serene. The gentle breeze, the stillness, the way the sky glittered with golden stars blinking occasionally—it all felt so peaceful, you couldn't resist taking it in. You placed your hands on your stomach, and for the first time, you truly felt the bump beneath your palms.

It's getting more prominent now and that excites you a bit, thinking about the future. Rubbing over your shirt, you continue to stare longer as you curl up, enjoying the softness of the sofa and the coldness of the surrounding. Your apartment had no view, no balcony and no comfy chairs like the ones Jungkook owns. The longer you look at the sky, the heavier your eyelids become. It's so peaceful out here, you think.

Peace was something you hadn't felt in a long time. Since finding out about the pregnancy, everything seemed to crumble around you, so this moment felt so good, so soothing. Just as your eyes began to drift shut, a few knocks on the glass door startled you, making you flinch. You turned to see where the sound came from and spotted Jungkook standing there, curiosity etched on his face as he took in your surprised expression.

"Your pills?" he asked, his voice soft but clear. You nodded, still rubbing your eyes to wake yourself up fully, you walk inside the bedroom, locking the door. Facing him, he picks up the glass and meds that he left on the bedside table. You sit on the edge of the bed and he hands you each pills so you gulp it down with room temperature water.

It feels weird to have him babysit you like this, you want to tell him that he doesn't have to do all this but you refrain from saying so because you know that it's gonna bring up another argument, which you're not ready for. "Thank you."

you say softly once you've swallowed the 5 whole capsules, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, handing over the glass back to him. Jungkook tears his eyes from yours and brings them to your collarbones, he won't admit it but when you gulped down every sip of the water, his mind only reminded him of the way you gave head.

He's unsure why he thinks of that night, it's the horniness in him. 'Maybe I should visit the club someday,' he tells himself as he nods his head and walks out of your bedroom. You do your skincare and then slip inside the sheets, the softness of the covers brings a warm smile on your face, letting you into slumber after a few minutes

-

Morning arrives quicker than you expected. Jungkook is already up, buttoning his inner waistcoat as he heads downstairs. The aroma of breakfast fills the air, prepared by Maya. He spots you sitting on the lobby couch, looking refreshed in a sweatshirt and checkered pants, focused on your laptop with Bam curled up beside you.

He directly walks into the kitchen, taking out the morning pills that you've got taken as prescribed. Placing them on the coffee table, you look up at him and meet his eyes, looking grumpy as always in the mornings. "Take them after you have your breakfast." He turns to leave but you immediately stop him. "Jungkook-"

you see him facing you with a blank look on his face, you walk closer to him, looking around as you check on his staff, not wanting them to hear you when you ask him the next few words. He raises his eyebrow, wanting to know why exactly you stopped him from leaving the house. Licking your lips, not very sure how to say it without sounding stupid, but you've given it a thought and it's a valid contemplation.

"Wouldn't your workers find it weird if you book two tickets?" This question makes him tilt his head, not exactly understanding what you're asking him, you heave a sigh and look at the ground then around checking for the staff. "The business trip?" you whisper, he then realises what you meant and pushes his head back with a chuckle.

Slipping his hands inside his pockets, he speaks. "Don't worry about that, I have my ways." he lets you know, walking out of the house, leaving you confused. you had more questions to ask him, he just left, not giving you a few seconds to ask him more. Rolling your eyes, you sat back down and began to start working from home, online. It's no different from working in the office, just the change of place and there's no people around here. So it's rather dull and boring, especially without Hoseok and Rosè around.

Maybe even Park Jimin, his taunts and conceited words were maddening yet it was some quality drama, now here you are alone just the way it always was. Except it's Jungkook's place and it just feels more peaceful and somehow a new place to be in, so it keeps you going. Occasionally taking a break to rub and pet Bam, it helps you to be focused.

While you work on your project, Bam either sleeps beside you or has his head on your lap. You both have bonded well, it feels nice and you don't feel very lonely too, you've not only got your baby but the pup too so you're happy. More than happy.

-

Jungkook officially announced that you're working from home due to personal reasons, and that you won't be back to office for months, he didn't specify how many months because he didn't think it was important for anyone to know, besides he himself isn't aware of it, it's pregnancy so..

he's a bit clueless with the months. Hoseok, Rosè and Jimin were of course left speechless. Firstly, Hoseok was aware of this, you told him but he assumed it could be some silly joke as you like to pull his leg a bit but he didn't expect it to be official, coming from Mr Jeon's mouth.

Jimin was disappointed, he isn't gonna have anyone for the next few months to tease and taunt, he enjoyed doing it all especially with your reactions, it made him want to continue more. "Did she inform you, like the reason?" Rosè questioned Hoseok as the two of them walked back to their work space. He shaked his head, letting her know that he wasn't told about it all, not even the period of online working.

"She didn't say much, just that she wouldn't be back anytime soon. It seemed like she wasn't sure herself," he muttered to the woman beside him, who nodded in understanding. Rosé wasn't particularly close to you—you were more colleagues than friends—so she didn't mind too much. But she could clearly see the impact of the news on Hoseok's face.

It drained his bright, happy aura more than it did yesterday. Looks like she's got some very important business to handle, anyway wanna have lunch with me later?" Rosè invited him, looking for any approval on his face but he declined her offer. "Thanks Rosè, I'm skipping lunch today." She hummed as a response to his words and walked away with a pat on his shoulder, her black heels clicking on the floor which got Jimin's attention. "I could join you for lunch."

The man spoke, placing his hands inside his linen black work pants as he cocks his eyebrow, waiting for her reply. Rosè looked at his eyes, those eyes that had a haughty gaze a few days back were slightly soft, even though his straight posture and smug smile hasn't altered one bit. Rosè noticed the change in his tone even so, it wasn't patronising as it was before, he had a sense of genuineness. She heaved a breath and rolled her eyes, walking past him while saying the words, "Sure thing, Park."

This left him, licking his bottom lip, seconds later biting into it to stop himself from smiling his honest grin, he's got to put up his guard, can't possibly break down his smug character for a woman. That too, an intimidating woman like Rosè. He walked back to his workspace, to get done with his work. Pushing away the interaction he just had from his mind so he can concentrate and get this done fast.

-

"Mr Jeon, you asked for me?" Baekhyun, the executive assistant walks inside the cabin after Jeon phoned him to be up at his office. Jungkook paused his typing and looked up at the man who stood in front of him with his hands tied to the back, bowing in respect. "I need you to confirm my attendance for Mr Lim's business trip." "May I begin with the process, Mr Jeon?"

"Sure, two business seat tickets for both departure and arrival, with full board services and arrangements for the best hotel for two executive suites."Baekhyun looked uncertain, his forehead creased and he was waiting for his boss to say that he's mistaken and that he just wants one. Jungkook noticed that the man hadn't moved still so he looked up to see his face,

raising his eyebrow in gesture to ask why he's still here. "Mr Jeon, are you sure about two flight tickets and two suites?" "Of course, is there a problem, Mr Byung?" "N-no Mr Jeon. I will make the arrangements." He bowed and left the next instance, leaving Jungkook to think a bit about it. He's never travelled with a plus one, he travels alone and a few of his important staff individuals. This time he chooses to not take them except his personal assistant, Min Sana who was replaced by his previous secretary Mina.

His staff usually comes by economy class to manage travel member expenses and it's been this process for years now. But it leaves him questioning how effortlessly he spoke about booking for two, obviously making his staff to assume.

Yet he chooses to push it away, claiming that they don't have any right to question him or doubt his decisions. While checking on his investments, he receives a text message from whom he least expected.

[ From unknown ] kook, yoongi here. changed my phone number. Where do you stay now?

Jungkook immediately grabbed his phone and stared at the name that the text mentioned. "Yoongi?" whispering to himself, he was about to click on the notification so it opens up to the chat but he stops himself. Placing back the phone on his office desk and taking the time to think.

"Why would he text me now? After almost 2 years?" he asks himself but has no answer to any of his questions unless the man himself answers. Jungkook refrained from replying to his text, and decided to let the man wait just the way he made Jungkook wait for months. He then looked back at his papers,

even though his mind was a bit fuzzy after that unforeseen text message he still continues to work with his mental gears not fully in the right pace.

Just when he's signing for the agreements, his screen flickers again. He can feel himself getting huffy as he tries to ignore the notification he received, assuming it's the 30 year old man again, until he takes a glance at the name. his heart hopes it's a message from unknown but his mind says to be it from someone else and it was another person. It was you.

[ From Ms Lee ] Jungkook? I need your help Is this salt or sugar? <picture attached*>

Jungkook looks at the picture you've sent him and widens his eyes in disbelief. The longer he looks, the more baffled his face looks as he can't stop thinking how stupid you are.

[ From Jungkook ] Just taste it. Are you stupid?

[ y/n ] I'm not stupid! None of the spices are named and they look the same. It's much more stupid

Jungkook sniggers at your texts, he can't believe that you're thinking so hard about salt and sugar. He doesn't want you to ask him about these simple items, he wants you to consider the place as your home too for the moment and the next few months. You're being considerate and he's thankful that you are but he can't stop smiling at how stupid it still seems to be.

[ From Jungkook ] Why do you want it?

[ y/n ] uh... well can I use the stuff from the kitchen

[ From Jungkook ] sure

You looked at his text, 'Sure.' Appears and then you pull out the rest of the items you needed. You were in desperate need of trying caramelised bananas. The youtube short that you watched a few minutes ago, triggered your craving system and so you soon hopped off your couch to get downstairs to make the easy dessert.

However, when you walked inside his jet black kitchen that welcomed you with the hint of gold. Looking around for a while, the bananas were kept right outside in the fruit basket along with other fruits like guava, passion fruits and melon. You grabbed a bunch of yellow, ripe bananas and laid them on the counter. "Where's the sugar?" you asked yourself and opened a few doors of the cabinet, finding for the sweeteners.

The top door opened to a few of the same ceramic containers that had two seasonings, the both of them were white and it wasn't named as sugar or salt. Being a little dumb, instead of taking a bite to taste it you asked Jungkook about it. You're unsure why you were being clumsy and couldn't add more pressure to your dying brain. His replies made you roll your eyes a thousand times that you're sure, by the time you leave his place, your eyes would be stuck up in the sockets.

The process of cooking the dessert began then as you took out a small sized pan that you found inside a drawer, heating it you then melted some butter over medium heat and then added sugar. A sprinkle of cinnamon while the sugar melts with the warm butter, you slice the banana and add them into the pan, frying each side until it turns golden brown.

"You get that smell, Bam? mmm." you moaned as the aroma of the burned sugar tingles under your nose, making you more excited to try it out. Your cravings are building up, slowly, gradually and it makes you so happy that you're eating and finally acting pregnant, in a joyful way rather than sobbing about it. Placing them into a small bowl, you poke a fork into it and dump the just caramelised slices into your mouth. They were warm but you couldn't wait any longer.

Besides, it tastes the best when it's just cooked. Once done devouring it, you cleaned the pan and dishes then plopped yourself into the couch. The time showed 7;45 which means Jungkook is probably on his way home. You decided to clear the rest of your stuff in his room and arrange it all into the closet and make that room more of you, it's lovely that he gave you the most feminine room of all and let you make any changes to make you feel belonged and comfortable.

Since you arrived a few days back, you didn't feel like arranging the stuff, unsure of the whole plan but now that you've settled enough, you were super excited to add your touch in that room. Bam followed you into the room and sat on the couch while you pulled out your suitcases, you tied your shirt above your bump like it was a crop top before you began with the organising. you've been choosing your clothings from the duffel bag these few days so you took them all out and placed them inside the cream closet.

Shirts on one side, pants on one, sleepwear on another and lingerie in the drawers. "Perfect!" you whisper to yourself in happiness that it looks so organised and beautiful in the empty shelves. You also brought along a few novels and plushies that you placed on the little floating shelves while the plushies remained on the bed. The makeup pouches sat on the vanity along with the few perfumes that you own and that was all about it. You took a little twirl and admired how pleasant and adorable the room looks now.

How much you loved the colours chosen for it, the blush pink, cream and grey just combined so well, painted gorgeously and now that you've added your belongings and changed the layout of the furniture, the room looks so much like you now and even better than it ever was. Wiping off the sweat beads of your forehead you exhaled and straightened your posture. "Bam, have I done a good job?" "Of course."

you frowned as you looked at Bam seated on the couch, tilting his head. 'Bam?' you said inside your mind and then you turned around and flinched at the sight of Jungkook. "Oh shit-" placing your hand on your chest, you moved a few steps back at his sudden appearance at your doorstep.

Chuckling, you took a few breaths and looked around the room to admire it for the 20th time. Jungkook looked at you, more specifically the little bump that's on display that you totally forgot was naked with your shirt being a crop top. He frowned as he continued to stare at it, gulping at the sight of it.

Did he really do that? he thinks but his thoughts were shuffled when you looked at him, you looked down to see what he's looking at and when you realised you immediately pulled out your shirt from under your breasts.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry." whispering under your breath, Jungkook rapidly scanned the area, embarrassed at where his eyes were at. "No shit- I'm sorry." "yeah you should be, creep-" his eyebrows furrowed at word creep yet he didn't say an extra word, knowing that he was indeed being a creep so he stepped out of your room completely. "I'll be making dinner, care to join?"

"No." he rolled his eyes, his tongue clicking as he nodded his head. "Why did I even ask?" he tells himself and removes his coat, entering his bedroom to get a shower. you covered your face with your hands and groaned. "That was so awkward, Bam!"

The dog barked and ran away to his owner, leaving you all by yourself. "It's new to him too I guess." you murmured to yourself and waited until you heard his footsteps so you could help him with the cooking, you obviously joked about not joining him a while ago.

-

Jungkook walked downstairs, first putting Bam's dinner then taking out the utensils to prepare kimchi soup. It was easy and healthy. He picked up some fresh kimchi from a restaurant so he could get on with it. He loved cooking, it was his favourite activity of his day. Ever since he moved to seoul when he was 19, he lived alone in a small dorm that he shared with a few of his so called friends at that time.

He learnt different skills from each friend, one was cooking. It grew inside him and he still doesn't plan to get rid of it by having a chef at home. Jungkook glanced at the stairs when he heard footsteps. You walked into the kitchen leaning against the cabinet with crossed arms, now freshened up and standing in front of him in pink and black checkered pyjamas.

"Need some help?" he smirked and shaked his head, gesturing no but you weren't gonna just stand there and look at him while he cooks dinner for you. You've got a slightly bigger heart. "So, what's cooking?" "Soup, kimchi soup." Aw man you are not a huge fan of kimchi, you were craving for some savory crepes.

You pout, very evidently, you want him to know that you're not happy with the choice of dinner. He takes a glimpse of you and the way your already pouty, bottom heavy lips look when they are pouted, it only makes him want to- "what? Doesn't sound good?" he questioned you which you answered with a meh. "Let me lend a hand." "I can manage, Y/n. Too many cooks ruin the soup." "Heyy?" you placed your hand on your waist, offended by what he just said.

how badly he wants to pinch your cheeks! "Take a seat at the dining table, dinner will be ready in a few minutes." "Fine, I'll wash the dishes after. you can't say no, I'm willing to do it." He faced you, looking at your eyes with a glare. Jungkook didn't want you to help him, he's fine. you squint your eyes back at him and he gives up and leaves a sigh. "Alright."

you sneaked your way back to the dining table, he didn't notice the slippers you were wearing until he looked down to hear the sound of it. Then he noticed your feet inside two teddy bears. "What the fuck are those?"

he blurted out accidentally as he began to laugh like a mad man. You've never seen him laugh so hard, so hard that his eyes almost disappeared, wrinkles surrounded the sides of his eyes and his nose scrunched with his bunny smile on display. The sound of his laughs, echoes in the empty house and rang inside your ears but leaving all that, you were very deeply insulted by his belly laugh.

"Never seen sleepwear slippers in your life before, Mr Jeon? Too bad-" "Of course, I have, but is the salary I reward you not enough? Why have you murdered two bears under your feet?" He almost dropped the soup out of the pot while he laughed at your face, this angered you so you took off the damn slipper to show him that it's an actual footwear not two plushies. Walking back to him with one foot in the sleepwear and the other in your hand, you put it up on his face.

"Look! It's a slip on! It's not a plushy." He gets a grip on himself and stops laughing, the look on your face makes it more difficult for him to stop yet he does, he can't be cackling like a mad man anymore. "It's absolutely hilarious!" "Yeah, very funny. I'll surely laugh tomorrow Mr Jeon!" you throw it back on the floor and slip your foot inside, stomping your way to sit back down. He shakes his head, biting his lips to stop himself from acting like this.

Jungkook poured the soup into a bowl and placed it on the dining table, with two soup bowls, chopsticks and a soup spoon. He poured the soup for you, making sure you get enough of the kimchi, he wants you to have full healthy meals. You didn't stop giving him those looks and he ignored them as he should, the two of you slurping and munching on the kimchi filled the air. It tasted heavenly, the crepe cravings totally washed out of your mind and you were beginning to enjoy and devour the entire bowl of warm liquid.

"What did you make earlier today? There was a toasty smell when I entered." As soon as he stepped inside he was hit with an aroma of something sweet and nutty and was curious to what you prepared, he was sure that it was something sweet since you texted him about it but you left no trail of evidence of what you cooked and the curiosity was eating him. "Just caramelised bananas."

'Oh man that sounds so good.' He thinks to himself but nods to your answer, showing no special interest but his mind surely craves for it now that he knows. "Must've been salty."

you tilted your head and looked at his blank face, your eyebrows furrowed and you bit your insides. 'What does he think I am? 5?' you think to yourself. "Of course I used salt, it tasted very much like the ocean!" Muttering those words you loudly slurped on the soup, Jungkook enjoys doing this to you, he smiles and covers it up by poking the fermented cabbage into his mouth. You both spent the rest of the time having a quiet dinner, it was peaceful until it was time to do the dishes.

"Give me your bowl." "I'll wash them on my own, clean yours." "Jungkook, give them to me, I told you I'm doing the dishes." "So I'm letting you do it, go ahead." "Give me your damn bowl." Bam looked at Jungkook then at you and vice versa, quarrelling over dishes like 10 year olds, Bam has never witnessed such scenes before, this is the most sounds he's ever heard since birth. "Why are you acting like a child, Jungkook?"

"Me? I'm the child? you're the child here!" There he stands tall in front of you, holding his empty bowl above his head while you try your best to reach it. "Jungkook!" "y/n!" your face showed signs of anger, frustration and he wasn't any less. you scowled at him and then sulked. you just wanna help. he cooked dinner twice, he lets you stay at his place and takes good care of you. you wanna show your gratitude too, you can't do it by words but you can by your actions and it starts here. helping him with the dishes.

"please." Jungkook has never seen the 'puppy eyes' before, definitely not yours. you looked at him with your big amber eyes that shows innocence, he's never seen this side of you and it honestly scares him. that pout on your face as you whispered the please, did something to him. "I'm not falling for your stupid face!" he delicately presses you to the side to make way to wash his dish. you frowned telling yourself that you're never gonna help this man again, he can do his shit by himself, you don't have to be nice to him.

waddling your way towards the stairs he stops you so you turn to face him. "What now?" He shows the pills that lay on his palm with a glass of water in his hand, you took it from him and thanked him in a whisper before making your way back to the bedroom. "Pack your stuff, we're leaving for France tomorrow night." you hear him as he spoke loudly, sighing you placed the pills on the night stand and took out the suitcases that you stored away this evening.

just for two days, that's not a lot of clothes. muttering to yourself you pulled out 2 lounge sets that were just easy to wear plus they're comfortable and along with that a floral split thigh a-line dress that looked pretty for a dinner or whatever that requires you to dress a bit girly. shirts and sweatpants and done.

Honestly, if this was to happen a few months back you'll be screaming and crying over what you've got to pick or even buy clothes for but now you've got 0 intention to dress up, just being comfortable is all that matters. pregnancy is definitely changing a lot within you, it's quite evident. taking a seat on the bed, you switched off the chandelier and turned on the bed lamp beside you, throwing the pills into your mouth and washing them down with water then you leaned on the velvet upholstered blush pink bedhead.

playing with your fingers while you give everything a final thought. accompanying Jungkook to a business trip sounds invading, he's got his things to do and manage while you're tagging around him just cause you're pregnant? he's taking his responsibilities a bit too seriously at this point, he could drop you off at your place for the two days, it's not a big deal. Is it even the right thing to do? you ask yourself,

contemplating if the man is making the right decisions. Nothing feels normal, everything happens fast without a warning that makes you question everything. and besides all that, the man is annoying as hell. it's not like you're gonna share a room with him or any sort of that yet it feels weirdly wrong. no. totally wrong.

;

spoiler.

"what the fuck, Jung kook? I can't fucking breathe!" you gasp for air, struggling to get more breath while you're trapped in your seat and your chest continues to tighten. "Hey, calm down-"

"I can't!" "you're just panicking!!" "Jung kook please-"

next chapter ⇢

[choerrysjubiles]

Baby Fever pt 4

pairing: husband!eunseok x fem!reader

warning: pregnancy symptoms (no throwing up! yuck!), smut! oral, fingering, brief mentions of food and eating

wc: 3.6k

a/n: that pic of eunseok 😵‍💫 anyways! i lied abt not writing a solo fic for today hehehe wrote this asap :]

i also did some research 👩🏻‍🏫 so these depictions of pregnancy arent gonna be perfect, as i've never had a baby, but i do hope its accurate enough while still being enjoyable :D

While you had yet to see any sign of pregnancy, you sure have felt it. You were grateful to not have the horrible morning sickness but the heartburn and water retention weren’t in your favor. You didn’t have to do much to feel the burning sensation in your chest.

Even after eating you could feel that heat return to your chest. Well fed or not, you could hold food down but never escape the tight, burning sensation.

Drinking water or not, you always felt like you were dehydrated. Constantly drinking water and liquids even after gulping down cups of water. Iced, flavored, plain water, even soda or teas. Nothing hydrated you. Your throat always having a faint dryness or your brain telling you “Get a glass.”

But the most interesting sensation was the quickening. Feeling that light flutter inside of you was unique to say the least. Feeling your child move inside you, a small hello to you. You remember exactly where you were: washing your face before getting ready for the day. You felt incredibly tired and needed a slight perk up for your day. Leaning over your sink as you cupped and drenched your face with the cool water.

The fluttering sensation was indescribable. The lightest amount of pressure before two gentle kicks. It easily could’ve been mistaken for your stomach rumbling from hunger or anxiety but you were entirely sure it was your baby.

You kept that small moment to yourself, eventually feeling more of it later that week. It really grounded you, remembering all the stress and worries of hormonal therapy washed away the more you felt these rhythmic beats. It both grounded you as well as sober you, making sure to eat healthy and exercise for the baby. You even began tracking what parts of your baby are being developed.

As soon as the weekend rolled around, feeling yourself relax in your duvet in the Saturday sunlight, you felt it again.

“Eunseok.” You turned to him.

“What’s wrong?” He began sitting up, worried you were in pain.

“I can feel them.” You smiled, wide eyes staring up at him.

“Huh?” Eunseok stared at you, dumbfounded.

He pushed the duvet off and pressed his ear to your stomach, rolling your shirt up to be skin to skin with you. He listened carefully, feeling the faintest flutter against your stomach. A boyish smile plastered his face as he pressed further into your stomach, ear against your shirt as he gently talked to them.

“You’re really in there?” He laughed in disbelief.

Leaning up, Eunseok kissed you, holding your face as he peppered your cheeks and jaw with kisses. Overjoyed with the knowledge of having a baby, really having one.

Pulling away, he smiled at you.

“I didn’t think I’d be this happy.”

“Me neither.” You laughed.

“No, really. I’m so happy, not just about the baby, but with you. You’re-” He paused for a moment, “You’re genuinely the best thing to happen to me and I’m so glad we waited to have a baby. To spend so much time with you and to have something we can both love.”

His eyes grew glossy, same as yours, as you heard every word he spoke.

“I’m glad we waited, too. I’m glad we’re both so excited over this.” You leaned in and wiped one of his tears away.

“I can’t quite find the words I want to say,” Eunseok confesses, “but I’m glad you still understand.”

You leaned in and kissed him.

“Of course.” You comfort him.

He wrapped his arms around you, “You’re gonna be a milf!”

Bursting into laughter, you feel him pull you onto the bed. His grip, soft but strong, keeping you tied into his arms as you relaxed together.

A sweet memory passing by as you stretched awake. Oh yeah, the other symptom: tiredness. God, you’re tired. Sleeping doesn’t even do anything as you’re constantly tired. Tired and need to pee.

Swinging your leg over the edge of the bed, you sat up, careful to not move too fast as you walked towards your bathroom. Walking in, you made sure to hold onto the counter while walking over to the toilet.

Sitting down, you sighed out, feeling a light sway in your head. How were pregnant people supposed to be both dizzy and hyperactive? Why did you want to exercise but also feel the room sway around. Insane.

You walked back to your bed, holding onto the walls and dresser as you waddled over. That felt exhausting. You lie back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling while it felt that the room began to spin. Before you knew it you were slipping into a nap.

Waking up from your impromptu nap, you heard Eunseok walk into the bedroom.

“Welcome home, honey.” You say, groggily sitting up.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, walking over to you.

“Fine, just a little dizzy.”

He pet your head, “It’s not bad, though?”

“No, way better than last week.” You laughed.

He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “That’s good to hear.”

“Oh, this weekend is another check up.”

“Another?”

Eunseok was walking towards your closet, shrugging off his coat as he changed into his home clothes.

“Yeah, they wanna see how large they’ve grown and to see more blood work.”

“They want you in every week.” Eunseok pouted.

“That’s the price of parenthood.”

Eunseok did have a point, even with your doctor letting the time stretch a little farther most doctors want a check up every two or so weeks.

You felt the bed shift as Eunseok sat beside you. Your hand moved to his thigh as his arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him. Your hand rested there, letting the two of you relax in each other’s silence. The longer you laid their the more your fingers grew antsy.

While you were more than happy being spoiled by Eunseok, he was so adamant about not wanting to work or stress you out. Carefully planning when you had sex, always so slow, barely pleasuring him. You found yourself needy in the craziest ways.

Your hand slowly massaged along his thigh, feeling him move closer to your ear as he whispered, “What are you doing?”

“I miss you.” You smiled up at him.

“I bet.”

Your hand moved up, going from above his knee to around his inner thigh. His hand covered yours as he tried stopping you.

“Did you not want me to-”

“I’d love it if you jerked me off, but you’re pregnant, honey.”

“And?”

He stayed silent, letting your hand go as you crept higher up. You moved over to kiss Eunseok, him relaxing into the bed as you moved onto his lap. Leaning by his ear.

“Did you not want me to touch you?”

“No, I just don’t want you to overexert yourself.” He kissed your neck.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, letting your hand move to palm his hardening dick. You kissed the exposed skin around his collar as you rubbed his inner thighs and hip bones. Eunseok pulled at his shirt’s neckline, feeling everything beginning to suffocate him.

“Can I?” You ask.

“Can you what?” Eunseok asked back, feeling his cheeks radiate with heat.

“I miss him.” You whisper against his ear, “I miss him in my mouth.”

You swore you hated blowing him a few months ago. Feeling the painful burn in your jaw, trying to not gag on him while his hips buck upwards, feeling the soreness afterwards, forced to swallow a load of cum.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna.” You laugh.

“Please?” You ask, staring up at Eunseok.

Eunseok thought for a moment, his dick was hard and straining against his underwear but he swore he never wanted you to do any work while pregnant.

“Go ahead.”

You grinned before moving down. Pushing his shirt up while shrugging his sweatpants down. Eunseok kicked his sweats off as you palmed him through his underwear, slowly teasing him before pulling them off.

His dick flung upwards, his red tip beginning to leak as you took him into your hand, slowly jerking him as Eunseok’s head fell back.

“Feel good?” You looked up at him.

“Yeah.” He sighed out.

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his head before kissing down his underside. Your head fell to your side, hair almost tickling his thigh, as you continued kissing down to his base. You flicked your tongue out, licking along his shaft and balls as Eunseok felt a moan slip out of him.

“Keep going.” He pleaded.

You licked up his dick until you wrapped your lips around his head. His precum hit your tongue and you cherished the taste that you’d been practically banned from. You gave a small suck before lick along his head, feeling yourself groan around his girth before suctioning around him and popping off. You let a string of saliva drip onto his head and down his shaft before massaging it in.

“You taste so good, baby.” You said, seeing his cheeks turn a shade darker.

“I do?” He asked.

“So good.” You gave him another lick, making him shudder. “So good and you’ve kept me from this for so long.”

With his dick a little wetter, you began sucking, bobbing up and down before sinking as far as you could go. Eunseok gripped onto the bedsheets, staring down at you before throwing his head back.

Bobbing up, you took a deep breath before sinking down and sucking tightly around his length. You slowly went up and down before moving your hand to grip and jerk his base.

“Ah.” Eunseok moaned.

You bobbed as much as you could before lifting yourself back up, hand still jerking him as you caught your breath. You leaned down, sucking onto the sensitive skin near his thighs. Moving over you kissed and sucked onto his base while your hand circled around his tip. Your grip tightened before jerking up and down his length.

Reattaching your lips, you continued bobbing as you heard his moans become needier.

“There, there. Fuck, right there.”

You sucked harder around him, slowing and trying to get as close to his base as you could.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You felt yourself moan at his words, his hips bucking up into your mouth at the vibrations.

“Get off, quick.”

He lifted your head off of his dick before your hand wrapped around his length, squeezing and jerking him before he began cumming. Your tongue licking along his head, letting his cum shoot into your mouth as his orgasm hit him.

You swallowed his cum, forgetting how much you loved this. Your tongue dragged along his head, trying to drink up as much as you could before you had to pull away.

Eunseok breathed heavily, feeling himself slowly come back from his orgasm. His eyes heavy lidded and breath ragged as he pulled you upwards. You leaned in to kiss him, feeling his plush lips melt against yours as he turned you onto your back.

Eunseok kissed down to your chin and neck before descending further. All you could do was relax into the bedding.

Kissing across your stomach and down to your shorts, Eunseok slowly peeling them off and down your legs, lifting and folding one leg to display your pussy for him. He leaned in, kissing along your thighs and pubic bone before licking a broad stripe upwards.

“Eunseok.” You moaned, your hands moving to lace themselves into his hair.

He savored your taste, flicking at your clit before giving another slow, agonizing lick from your entrance to your clit. You felt your hips buck upwards, wanting more from him as he held them down into the mattress.

He gave another slow lick but this time he teased along your entrance, almost trying to push his tongue inside before moving up and closing his lips around your clit. Your back began arching, your fingers gripping onto his hair a little tighter before relaxing and attempting to smooth his hair.

One hand moved away from your hips, slowly trailing down and rubbing your clit while he lapped at the juices dripping out of you.

“Eunseok.”

He traded places, tongue flicking and pressing into your clit while two fingers pushed into your core. Your head pressed into your pillow, your throat felt dry with your sighing and moaning as Eunseok slowly pumped his fingers into you.

“Keep going.” You begged.

Eunseok continued, slow but strong pumps into your core as his tongue lapped and prodded at your clit until he felt with switching again. Fingers rubbing tight circles against your clit while his tongue lapped at your entrance. And before you knew it, he’d switch again.

You slowly felt that hot coil in your core become tighter and tighter, Eunseok paid no mind to your condition, he was practically in heaven while he was between your legs.

“Eunseok, right there.” Your eyes were shut tight, your words between gritted teeth, you were so close you needed just a little more.

He sped up, fingers pumping quickly inside you as his tongue pushed and ground against your clit as your felt that knot bust.

“Ah!” You moaned, feeling yourself freeze in place before slowly relaxing against the bed.

You felt Eunseok pull his fingers out, lapping at your core almost in a frenzy. When he’d had his fill, Eunseok fell back onto his pillow looking over at you.

“Thank you.” You smiled at him.

“Of course, baby.” He smiled, “I’m sorry I’d been neglecting you.”

You laughed lightly, “Not neglecting but you’re just so worried about me doing things.”

You two laid in a comfortable silence for some time, calming down, Eunseok remembered he needed to pick up some things for dinner.

“I’ll cook tonight.” He said.

“You’ve been cooking every night, I’ll be fine. We can even cook together.” You offered, putting your clothing back on.

“Okay.”

After relaxing a bit more, you both walk out to Eunseok’s car. He was insistent these days to drive you everywhere not wanting you to lift a finger during your pregnancy.

Arriving, you both step out. You grabbed a handheld basket as you both began walking around.

“What did we need?” You ask.

“Some veggies, some extra soup broth, oh we’ve been getting low on napkins.”

You nod, both walking towards the vegetable section. You grab at your ingredients, looking at the other veggies and picking up some fruit to have later. You grab at a plastic bag before tying and setting it in your basket.

Looking over, you see Eunseok staring at you, a soft smile on his face as he watches you.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“Fine, you’re just very pretty.”

You smile as your playfully swat his arm.

Making your way throughout the store, you grab at the items on the list, picking up some extras for around the house and a few new snacks you’ve wanted to try.

Arriving home, you both set your bags onto your kitchen counter. Putting things up while leaving your broths and veggies out. You grabbed at your apron before prepping the veggies.

“Here.” Eunseok stopped you.

Walking behind you, he carefully gathered your hair and tied it into a ponytail before getting a soup pot out.

“Thank you.” You smiled at him.

He kissed your cheek in return.

You gathered the vegetables before rinsing and washing them, grabbing at a cutting board and a knife, you began chopping your veggies while you heard Eunseok begin heating the pot.

You glanced over at him, pouring a bit of oil to sear some beef before adding the soup stock. You walked over to him, dropping in some potatoes and carrots before letting the pot sit.

“Can you believe people have trouble in marriage?”

You chuckle at his question, “It’s so easy.”

“All you have to do is make soup.” He laughs.

“And you, Mr. Song, are quite healthy.”

Eunseok stared in shock at the doctor, “Me?” He pointed to himself.

“Yes.” She smiled, “Pregnancy symptoms are related to the father’s health: healthy men, smooth pregnancies.”

“Thank you.” Eunseok said, wondering if that is something he should be thankful for.

“Thank you,” You said, “I’d hate to be having a rough pregnancy the first go around.”

Your doctor chuckled before going on, “Your bloodwork is good, a little low on iron but ultimately good. Your other tests came back well, no infections or diseases. Your stomach as grown a little, not terribly much but it’s around the usual length.”

“Low iron?” Eunseok asked.

“Yes, add more greens into your diet. Kale, spinach, broccoli. Iron dense veggies are the easiest.” She explained, “Oh, your breast exam came back well, no lumps or changes, do you feel any discharge or swelling?”

“No, not that I’m aware of.”

She nodded, “Good, now we can move onto your favorite part.”

She pulled out the untrasound gel and the wand. You felt yourself sigh in relief, lifting your shirt and laying against the table as she slowly showed your baby. They were quite small, still growing and developing, but you could still see them. You felt yourself smile as you saw them through the little screen.

Eunseok held your hand, his eyes glued to the screen even as you looked over at him.

“Your baby has grown, much easier to see compared to the little bean it was before.”

You laughed, “When are we able to see the sex of the baby?”

“Soon, we might be able to see now but it won’t be 100% accurate.”

You both nodded.

“Did you want to know?”

You turn to Eunseok, “Did we?” You ask.

Eunseok is lost for words, “I don’t know.”

“I’ll give you some time to think on it, we can check next check up if you’d like.”

You both nod as she helps clean you off before discharging you.

As you walk out to Eunseok’s car, your thoughts are stuck repeating that scene. Did you want to know the sex? It really doesn’t matter, they’re still your child regardless of what sex they are.

“Are you alright, y/n?”

You look up from your thoughts, “Yeah, just, uhm.” You collect yourself for a moment. “Did you want to know the sex?”

Eunseok sits back in the driver’s seat, “I don’t know.”

You nod, “I don’t mind but I also don’t really care.”

“Yeah.” Eunseok nods.

“It’d be convenient but it’s not a priority.”

“We can always wait til the birth.” Eunseok grabs your hand.

“Yeah,” You smile, squeezing his hand, “I’d like that.”

The drive was smooth, Eunseok always making sure to take surface streets to limit any amount of stress on you. You’d usual protest against his worries but it had it’s upsides: the view was more scenic with more things to focus on, drives took a little longer so you could listen to more music together, more impromptu stops towards certain shops or sighting restaurants to try later.

As you get home, you saw your neighbors watering their flower beds. As you and Eunseok waved over to them as you walked up to your door, your neighbor called out.

“Y/n, is that a baby bump?”

You felt yourself laughing, “And how could you see that from all the way over there? Our doctor can barely see it from inside her office.”

Your neighbor, Amber, made her way over.

“Well she must not have the baby vision I do, now let me see.”

Amber began inspecting you, seeing the tiniest lump forming from the usual curve of your stomach.

“How far along are you?” She asked.

“About 15 or so weeks, starting our second trimester.”

“Are you excited?” She asked.

“Extremely.” You smiled.

“I’m so sorry, I should leave you two.” She began walking back to her lawn, “But let me know any updates! I can’t wait to meet your baby.”

You laughed as you made your way inside, “We will, every check up!”

You saw her put a hand to her heart smiling.

Closing the door, “Everyone is so obsessed with babies.” Eunseok states.

You lean against the door, “Horribly so.”

“All we are, are some baby making machine.”

“Let’s hope they have this same energy for the baby showers.”

“Showers?”

“Yeah, first is the pregnancy shower, then a baby shower, we can even do a gender reveal.”

Eunseok followed you as you made your way to your living room, “And why so many showers?”

“To be showered with gifts.” You sat down.

“Ah, I understand now.”

“They are gonna make such a stink about me being pregnant and making friends for their kids, the least they could do is give some gifts the way we did for their pregnancies.”

“Didn’t Mandy have 5 showers?”

You nodded, “She had a smaller and larger pregnancy announcement, a baby shower, a gender reveal, and some parties post-birth.”

“And no one thought that was crazy.”

“Oh they did,” You remembered all the comments your friends made about her, “at least other mothers made comments.”

“Imagine if she had twins.”

You began laughing, wide eyed as you pictured the scenes, “Thank god she didn’t.”

You sat down, feeling your energy spent from your doctor’s visit. You leaned over to grab the water bottle from your purse, taking a drink as Eunseok sat beside you.

“We’re gonna need to make a baby registry.” He thinks out loud.

“You think someone can buy a stroller?” You ask.

“Maybe, more likely to buy too many diapers.”

“We’re going to need to take parent classes.” You note.

“We’re gonna have pregnancy friends.” Eunseok pulls you to his chest.

“We might even have hospital friends.”

“And daycare friends.” He lays his head against yours.

“And our baby will make friends and we’ll be friends with even more parents.”

“So many parent friends.” Eunseok chuckles.

“It’d be nice, though.”

“It would.”

[abiiors]

birthday surprise - matty x reader

part 2 of matty's birthday weekend a/n: this is scheduled. by the time this goes up, i will (hopefully🤞🏼) be on a beach somewhere, day drunk 😌 cw: vomit (because hungover), dramatic (because sad), once again vague descriptions of depression. some kissing and suggestive stuff. idiots friends to lovers wc: 3.1k

george’s massive hand rests on matty’s back while he retches into the toilet. 

his head pounds mercilessly, the sunlight streaming in through the window is barely helping and the soured wine churning in his stomach comes back up once again, leaving him gasping for air. a loud splash echoes in the bathroom and matty groans, gagging a bit more. 

george is a good friend. he lets matty lean on him and holds the glass of water so matty can slowly sip from it.

it barely works though. he feels like shit regardless, and none of it can be cured by water or food or painkillers. 

george helps him get back to bed once matty feels slightly better. the whole time neither of them say a word. matty doesn’t know how much of last night has been told to his friend—does he know the precise way in which matty fucked up? did he see matty in the act? overhear the conversation accidentally? 

george’s face looks completely blank. he does all the right things—sets a glass of water and a few painkillers next to matty, grabs him a bucket, draws the blackout curtains. he even offers to get breakfast.

“fry up from that small cafe down the street,” he says in a hushed voice. “come on, greasy food’s good for hangovers.”

matty mumbles something like a vague yes, if only so george would step out of the house for a bit. once he’s out, matty searches for his phone, wedged somewhere between the mattress and the headboard. the sudden brightness makes him wince but once he manages to open his eyes, he checks for messages and missed calls. 

apart from one missed call from george and one from jamie, there’s nothing. 

nothing from her. 

not one message. 

the last message he’s sent to her sits at read—it’s nothing special, just the address to the pub they were going to meet at. and then… yeah, matty remembers how well that went. 

he remembers the last look on her face before she stormed off. 

then it’s just a fog.

his throat feels clogged, his eyes sting but no tears come. matty just lays there, curled up like a pathetic worm, clutching his pillow until seconds or minutes or hours later george re-enters his room. 

“right, come on,” he flings the covers off matty, making him feel a sudden draft of cold air. “i’m not getting you breakfast in bed, mate. you’re hungover, not an invalid.”

“‘m not hungry,” matty mumbles. his voice is hoarse and his throat hurts—probably the vomiting—but it’s nothing in comparison to his head. a delayed realisation hits him that he never took the painkillers. 

george huffs. “don’t be a diva.” and if matty had any strength he would absolutely be offended by that. then again maybe george doesn’t know the full extent of last night. 

“seriously george—”

“matty. you’re going to get out of bed and come to the kitchen. we are going to eat and then we are going to talk about last night.”

well… there goes that. a stubborn side of him wants to be an absolute ass and dig his feet in. say all sorts of mean things to george just so he’d leave. but isn’t that what got him here in the first place? he really isn’t in the position to hurt more people in his life. 

like a small child matty drags his feet the entire way to the kitchen, turning his nose up at the food on the table. (even though it looks really good and his stomach does growl now that he can smell the food) george doesn’t egg him on any further. he just motions to the chair and slides a mug of coffee in front of him.

“you said what?” 

it’s the eerily calm edge to george’s voice that makes matty shrink in his seat. he does feel better with some food in his stomach, physically at least. but the way george stares at him—eyes cold, lips pressed in a thin line—makes him feel sick to his stomach all over again. 

“i said– i– i said it was the first of april, i told her it was a joke.” his voice is a pathetic whisper, words drowned by shame and guilt and self-hatred. matty wishes he could go back in time and undo it all. he won’t say any of it. 

he won’t even touch the wine in the first place. 

“right after you said i love you.”

“yeah.”

“huh.”

easy for george to say that. it’s not his love life blowing up in his face right now. matty stabs the tomato next to his half-eaten toast, watching it spill its guts onto the plate. red. just like last night. 

he remembers that part of it. 

“what happened after? how did i… get home?”

george goes a bit silent for a second, not meeting matty’s eyes which sets alarm bells ringing in his head. 

“do you really not remember?”

when matty shakes his head, george just sighs and then softly says her name. “she called charli, crying a lot and i figured something went down. i called you–don’t you remember that?” when matty’s blank face gives him the answer, george continues, “you sounded really awful like… you were gasping for breath. i could barely understand you. so i thought i’d pick you up and get you home. i’m glad i did.”

in all of this the only part matty focuses on is her. and that she called charli crying a lot. of course, he thanks george but it’s only half-hearted, distracted. he can’t get the image of it out of his mind—her sobbing on the other end of the phone, barely able to get a word out. it breaks his heart all over again. 

he did that. 

this is all his fault. 

“matty… you have to make it right.”

that’s the biggest problem of it all—he doesn’t know how. what is he supposed to do, call her up and say: hey, so you know how i drunkenly said i love after which i assumed you looked at me with disgust and then i said it was all a joke and you stormed off? well it was not a joke i am seriously in love with you and i don’t know what happens to our friendship after this. 

yeah. there’s no way to put it any better. 

so he just nods. at least, that way he doesn’t have to answer to george right now. he’s figure out a way to do it later, once he doesn’t feel like a raisin. he’ll figure out a proper plan, build up the courage to call her. 

for now matty can only swallow the rest of the now-lukewarm coffee and hope that he can just sleep the rest of the day off. 

for three days after that, his messages stay on delivered. 

it’s a harrowing process, to pick up his phone and dial her number only for it to go to voicemail after the second ring. almost like she’d stabbed her thumb on the glaring red reject button. 

all his messages went unanswered too. all the—

hey

can we talk please?

please!

i just want to say sorry 

just hear me out

—all of them ignored, like all his other efforts to reach her through her friends. 

day four charli shows up at his doorstep, face twisted in a scowl, eyes like embers ready to singe him if he stepped one toe out of line, mayhem in tow. 

the puppy is his last straw. the fact that she sent mayhem back with charli instead of dropping him off herself… matty doesn’t even want to think what that means for him. for them. 

he mumbles a quiet “thanks” to charli, afraid of speaking anything louder. 

“if it weren’t for george—” she starts and swallows, as if she’s literally swallowing her anger. “nevermind. forget about it.”

and then she leaves him standing at his doorstep like a loser, mayhem’s leash in hand. 

much later he realises that the collar is different now, it’s no longer the slightly frayed old brown collar from before. this one is new. 

this one is green. a green that matches her hair… 

the thought of it makes his throat clog up with tears once again. when had she even had the time to go buy him a new collar? one to match her hair so perfectly? was it before or after he fucked up? matty scratches mayhem behind his ears who lets out a soft little whine and nuzzles him in return. maybe the puppy is sad too, maybe mayhem prefers being with her instead of being with him. 

the next few days he spends like a pig in a pigsty, surrounded by his own filth of food cartons and cigarette butts and coke cans. he makes it a mission to call her once every day—all of them go unanswered anyway so what’s the point?

by the time the seventh of april rolls around, matty doesn’t even bother thinking about his birthday anymore—there’s no pointing in celebrating it, he’s not even in the mood right now. one failed celebration is enough.

his friends, of course, have a whole different plan in mind. 

jamie shows up at his house the evening of the seventh, not ready to take no for an answer. it’s just a small dinner, he says, only friends and family. (matty knows that’s not true, knows it’s going to be a whole surprise party) but every “no” is met with a gentle refusal to accept it and so ultimately, he gives in and dresses up in his cleanest, least sad shirt. the one that least screams “i took my first shower of the week today”. 

jamie, to his credit, tries engaging him in conversation. matty, to his credit, tries not to answer in one syllable words. it gets exhausting real quick though, so they end up spending the rest of the car ride in silence.

everything that happens after is a blur in his mind—the pub looks ordinary from the outside, inconspicuous. everyone yells “surprise!” much like he predicted. matty smiles, cheery and fake. someone hands him a drink, which he tries to refuse but the person is too far away to hear him over the music now. his stomach roils at the thought of being in another pub, in the middle of another birthday party. 

he just wants to go home and curl up onto his bed and never move again. 

except…

matty’s heart stops when he spots a green head. 

he blinks rapidly, about to rub his eyes to make sure he didn’t hallucinate. maybe there are drugs in the air, maybe the (untouched) drink in his hands is actually spiked. 

but the green head moves and she steps away from behind george, a glass of some dark cocktail in her hands and her eyes trained on him. matty staggers to a stop, about to drop the glass in his hands. 

“hey…” her voice is hesitant, unsure when she first walks up to him. from behind her, george throws matty a look, his brow raised as if to say one chance, matty. better make it right.

of all the things that have happened today, this… this is the real surprise. 

matty stands there like an idiot, tongue-tied and wide-eyed, unable to come up with a simple “hi”.

“should we… uh, head outside?” it’s when she points vaguely behind her, to the smoking area, that he realises just how loud it is inside. the consistent beat of the song thumps through his chest, making him feel more anxious than ever. in a daze, he nods and then dutifully follows her outside. 

as soon as the door to the smoking area closes behind him, she whirls around, arms crossed in front of her chest, brows knit in an indecipherable expression. “talk.”

oh.

well, that’s what he had said to her hadn’t he? in all the text messages he had sent. that he just wants to talk. he just wants one chance. and now that the chance is here, his mouth's as dry as a desert. 

“i was… an idiot, no forget that, i was a real cunt to you. just like you said, i’m so sorry for the awful shit i said, i…” his words come out stilted and awkward. he has no idea where he’s going with this, he only knows he needs to earn her forgiveness somehow. 

even if he has to get on his knees. 

“i got drunk an–and cruel and said things i didn’t mean—”

“what things?”

“w-what?” 

“the things you didn’t mean,” she clears her throat, “what things were they? the part where you said i love you or–or the part where you said it was all a joke?”

matty’s insides feel like jelly all over again. it’s like he’s back where he was a week ago—just a boy, standing in front of the girl he loves, about to say the stupidest thing in the world. 

“well?”

“i didn’t mean it as a j–joke.” his voice comes out as a cowardly whisper, high pitched and barely audible. that’s no way to say the things he really wants to say! 

gathering all his courage, matty steps closer to her. to his utter surprise, she doesn’t step away. 

“it wasn’t a joke, what i said to you. i—” he chokes, nervously running a hand through his hair, wondering what the slight widening of her eyes means out of the million possibilities his brain’s already conjured up. 

“i know i was drunk and barely making sense but i meant it… i meant all of it.”

slowly, she uncrosses her arms, letting them dangle at her sides. the crease between her brows relaxes too. suddenly, it’a her taking a step forward until they’re toe-to-toe and she has to tilt her chin up to look him in the eyes. the moonlight shines bright on her face, the glitter gleams on her eyelids, and for a moment matty is completely awestruck. 

how is he meant to find words when she leaves him so completely tongue-tied?

“and what’s ‘it’, huh?”

the faint ringing in his ears starts up all over again and music from inside the pub floats through the walls, mellowed and somehow peaceful. this is it, he thinks. he fucked it up once, he absolutely cannot do it again. 

“i meant i… i love you. not as a friend. i mean n-no, of course, i love you as a friend but i also meant it as something more. not that you have to reciprocate! i just–it’s just what i feel—”

the rest of his words die on his lips. get cut off by someone else’s lips more like it. her lips. against his. 

matty’s eyes resemble wide saucers until her arms wrap around him, fingers tangling into his hair. her nails brushing against his scalp is what makes his body relax and suddenly matty’s kissing her back. 

tenderly, he holds her cheek, tucking away stray hair behind her ear. his other hand rests on her waist, too hesitant to grip her tightly but too scared to just let go. as if once he lets go of her, she’ll float away, far away from him again, out of his reach. matty’s sure she can feel his heart hammering in his chest. he’s not super proud of it but the kiss makes him forget all about being embarrassed. 

the feel of her tongue lighting teasing his lips is all that matters. 

she makes a sound at the back of her throat, almost a… moan and pulls away abruptly, looking shy all of a sudden. 

matty touches his lips with trembling fingers. 

“was that too—”

“are you joking?!” if he though his voice was breathy before, it has nothing on what he sounds like now. the sound that comes out of him is hoarse, like he’s struggling to breathe and it’s making him feel dizzy. the good kind of dizzy. “so i fucked up, majorly, might i add! and i get rewarded with a kiss?!”

she giggles, all anger from before melting away right in front of his eyes. “it was more to shut you up honestly, you would have been here all night. rambling.”

for the first time in a week, matty can finally breathe, can finally feel the blood in his veins flow again. for the first time in a week, matty feels like a person again. “it wasn’t a reward. just because you’re pretty and a good kisser doesn’t mean i’ll forgive you so quickly.” 

matty grins, “you think i’m pretty?” and promptly gets punched in the arm.

it takes them a moment to stop giggling, but when they finally sober up, she turns serious again. “seriously though, matty, it hurt me a lot, what you did. i think… i think i can set it aside for tonight but i’m going to need some time to figure things out. 

matty nods. of course, he knows the impact his words must have had. shame and guilt blooms deep within him, strong and acrid. 

“don't forgive me yet, love. forgive me when i earn it. forgive me when you think i’m worthy of it.”

when she kisses him again, it’s deeper than the last time. her entire body is pressed against his, so warm and soft in arms, exactly like he’s imagined countless times before. he can’t stop himself—can’t stop him from finally holding onto her waist, hand sliding down to her ass. can’t stop himself from pushing her back till her back hits the wall and a soft gasp leaves her mouth. every nerve ending in his body is on hyperdrive. everywhere she touches, electricity zings through him. 

matty slides his tongue in her mouth, pulling on her bottom lip with his teeth and soothing the sting away with his tongue. every time he feels her shiver, matty presses further into her. he just wants more and more and more—more than he can do here and now on this balcony. 

all his friends are inside for fucks sake. 

“you can start now,” she teases, smiling roguishly against his mouth. “you’d look quite nice on your knees, i think.”

blood simmers under his skin, rushing south all at once and this time it’s matty who shivers, struggling to stand upright. 

“yeah? that what you want, sweetheart?”

“take me home, please,” she says. and matty agrees in a heartbeat. 

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[deepdisireslonging]

Remembering the Forgotten

The Reader revisits the beach that looks up at her dig site. But on this trip, something or someone in the water calls to her. When she answers, who she meets is more ancient than any artifact she’s ever held. And all he wants to do is possess and pleasure her to thier heart’s content.

Pairing: Sea God!Loki x Archaeologist!Reader

Warnings/Promises: cw food mention, bad night-swimming safety, magic, SMUT, oral (female receiving), p in v, shadow tentacle/magic bondage, overstimulation, ritualistic-ish smut, divine sugar baby proposition, mutual pining, bad archaeology humor

Word Count: 5500 (oops)

Note: I had another dig in Cyprus and I got to revisit my favorite beach. Which of course gave me a few ideas. Unlike the reader, I did forget my water shoes. If you ever go to Cyprus, don’t be me. Sorry not sorry for this blatant self-insertion fic I came up with on my last day of the dig. Happy reading!

With squeals of delight, you and your girl friends dashed into the waters. The waters off Kourion beach in Cyprus were barely rippled by waves. Last weekend, with the entire island lacking a breeze, the sea had been as calm as lake water. But this weekend, they managed several soft breaking waves. Which was a wonderful escape from the high temperatures ravaging the summer. And this year, you had not forgotten your swim shoes to combat the pebbles that outlined the beaches like a low defense wall.

And the beach was packed with tourists. And locals. Pooling your money, your little group had snared the last rentable chair and umbrella.

Your friend, Chiara, sighed as she let a wave wash over her shoulders. “This is why we let you talk us into these trips.”

The last of your trio, Lara, re-emerged after dipping her head under the water. “Almost makes all of those visits to your sites worth it.” She spun in place, digging a hole in the sand with her toes. “This is the perfect way to wash off all that sweat we made in Paphos.”

“Hey. I made sure you both wore enough sunscreen. And we all had enough water.” You pouted, a little hurt by Lara’s disdain. “I warned you guys that Paphos was luminous. The Romans loved white stones. Which unfortunately reflects every ounce of sunlight, but it was helpful back before electric light. Some of those stones were dimmed because the Romans also liked to purposefully weather the stone. They thought it gave their structures a worn, domestic look.” You were only a little miffed that both of your friends didn’t enjoy the archaeology of the site as much as you did. Then again, you were the one who dug here. They had to be bribed into this non-dig trip with promises of shopping in Nikosia and Omodos.

Lara dipped her head apologetically. Glancing up at the cliff-face that abutted the coat, she asked, “so where’s your site? Can we see it from here?”

“Oh, yeah.” You pointed from one side to the other. “That white tarp structure on the left is the House of Achilles, named for the mosaic inside. It’s next to the back exit of the site. And right there is where the paragliders take off, off the cliff. The whole stretch here is the city. And there, just right of that dip in the cliff, is my site. Past the curve there is the house of Eustolius, a rich guy who built a bathhouse for the city after the earthquake in the fourth century. But the whole top there is Kourion.”

A rogue wave nearly topped the three of you, making you all laugh even as you sputtered around the salt water. When the water leveled out, you could touch bottom again. The sand under your toes was soft and completely devoid of seashells.

Chiara looked back to watch for more rogues. “That’s still cool that you worked here. Have you ever thought about moving to the island? You obviously love it here. With so many museums, and all your professor’s connections, you could probably get a job. Easy.”

You dipped your head underwater to delay your response. This topic was a secret sore spot. “I don’t really have the personal credentials for the museums around here. My Greek is tolerable.”

“But it would get better the longer you’re here,” Lara added. She jumped with you as a wave rolled through.

“Perhaps. But,” you licked your salty lips, “I’m not a fan of the schmoozing you have to do at events. I would like a museum lab job. But not if it requires me to make… appearances. Makes me feel like I’m an animal in a zoo.”

“That’s fair.” As a preacher’s kid, Chiara knew what it was like to be constantly on display. Never able to step out of line in case it reflected bad on her dad. “Maybe we can find you a rich British guy who wants to vacation here permanently.”

You all giggled at that. Almost like they had been summoned, a group of three guys waved and hooted at your trio. It made you all burst out laughing. But before they could swim close, you all took off over the waves for “deeper” water. Being Kourion, the water didn’t actually get deeper. But definitely further from the shore.

Chiara didn’t let the subject go. “Come on. You’ve joked that a good, arranged marriage would be excellent for your school’s archaeology department.”

“Yeah,” you said, rolling your eyes. “But I’m more likely to get hit on by a Russian than a Brit here.”

Lara gracefully drifted the conversation to something less embarrassing for you. She and Chiara began to plan the next shopping adventure.

But your focus had been stolen. Further out, near the line of buoys that kept people from swimming out to sea, you could see a man. His dark hair stood out against the bright horizon. The longer you looked at him, the stronger you could feel the current pulling at your legs.

“Earth to Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You turned back to your friends, barely noticing the sudden drop in current. “What?”

“Are there any sites you want to see around Famagusta?”

“Yes… but we’re not going to Famagusta.”

“Why not?”

“It’s in the North!” While you re-gave them a quick history of the island and it’s split into more-or-less two countries, you could feel eyes prickling over your skin. When you looked into deeper water, you could have sworn that your dark-haired man was joined by someone with hair like the sun. But then Chiara was dragging you all back towards the shore for gelato.

A wave swelled up from out of nowhere, quickly overtaking your trio. It wasn’t a rogue. But it’s undertow fought your arms paddling in the opposite direction. Like the sea wanted you not only to stay in the water. But to go out deeper.

Which was ridiculous.

All the same, as the three of you crossed the small stones to the hot sand, something from the water called to you. You looked back. Your dark-haired mystery was gone.

***

 “Why can’t I have her?” Loki slipped outside the buoys to the deep-water side. From there, nobody on the beach would be able to see them. While the mortals had put the line there as a deterrent for swimmers, he had applied magic to the rope long ago. “Brother, it has been a long time since I called a mortal to me. I have been patiently waiting.”

At his side, Thor crossed his arms. “These days are not like the old ones. The mortals will miss her. We can no longer take who we want while their families consider it a blessing. Now they send boats and pray to younger gods.” He followed Loki’s gaze in your direction. “Forget her, brother. Like you have all others.”

Loki nodded, even if that last statement was wrong.

Sure that you were far out of his brother’s mind, Thor dipped under the waters and swam out to sea.

But the dark-haired god lingered. With his magic, he could see you clearly sitting under that gaudy umbrella. He could smell the sweet sugar of your gelato. The warmth of the sun on your skin was cooled by the shade. He could taste each remaining rivlet of saltwater running down your arms and legs.

Loki leaned over the buoy. “Look at me,” he willed. After an eternity of seconds, you did. He knew you’d barely be able to see him over the waves and the glare of the sun. But he saw your head tilt to one side; curious.

He willed toward you another command. There wasn’t a chance that you’d swim out that second. But he could wait. He could relax under the waves until you stepped back into his domain, called by his silent whisper in your ear.

“Come back to me.”

***

Nightlife on Kourion beach was less stressful than the daytime. With the sun gone, the waves took on a foreboding warning. The only light on the waters came from the few restaurants sitting on the sand. Your trio was sat at the more expensive one in the middle. Next to your morning’s umbrella. This was also the one with the good gelato and other sweets behind display glass.

Chiara and Lara were happily munching on their desserts. You hadn’t ordered one. Instead, you were content to stare off into the waves, counting the stars that glimmered overhead.

The waves still called to you. Their relaxing pulse and crash pulled on you like a current, or like a string attached to your chest. You made up your mind.

“I’m going for a swim.”

Startled, Lara looked out into the waters. “Are you sure? It’s going to be really dark out there.”

You stood, shedding your wrap-around skirt and folding it over the back of your chair. “I’ll stay where you can see me. I promise.”

With the drop of the sun, the sand was cool under your toes. The water was pleasantly warm. Without your water shoes, you gingerly crossed the stones. Stepping into the sand on the other side was a relief. And further out, you could swim in waters less choppy than that morning.

Then you kept swimming out. And further. And further.

Looking back, you could still see your friends as if you’d never left the stones. And you could steadily stand on the perfectly smooth sand beneath the water. You could walk. Calmly, watching the stars and the shore, you kept walking backwards completely oblivious to how far out you were.

Until your shoulder blades bumped into the buoys.

“Hello.”

With a start, you dove into the water to swim away. But when you came up for air, you hadn’t moved.

The dark-haired man on the other side of the rope slid his eyes over you. They were bright, the same color as the Mediterranean on a sunny day. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m not sure what else you’d thought would happen. Poppin’ up outta the ocean like that.” Your heart thundered in your ears. The gentle movement of the water circled around you until you were calm again. “What are you doing out this far? In the dark?”

He grinned, dipping his head to face the water. “I was… I was waiting for you.” His eyes glanced over your lips. “The sea called to you, didn’t it? That’s why you came this deep. In the dark.”

For a split second, you considered diving under the waves to swim away again. But something about him… you had a feeling you would make it about as far as last time. “Who are you?”

Again, he grinned. This time, he kept eye-level with you. His canines were curved and sharp, like the teeth of a barracuda. He took your hand as you shivered. “I am known as Loki.” His hand, shimmery with salt water and the hint of scales, dragged you closer to the buoy. He kissed over your knuckles. “And you have nothing to fear with me.”

His kiss left your skin tingling. With a start, you realized why you had been so drawn to him that morning. “You… you visited my dig. Last season.” The tall, suited man. You had thought it odd for someone to wear so much black in so high a heat. But the kiss he laid on your knuckles was the same. The current of him was the same. As were his eyes.

Loki glanced back over the deeper call of the sea. “That – that I did. Though I would appreciate you not repeating it. I’m… I’m not supposed to visit land.” The water shuddered around him. “But, yes. We have met before. I was enchanted by you, Y/N. On land, I couldn’t call you to me. But when you and your friends came back to my beach,” he nodded, “I don’t usually believe in luck. Today has altered my perception.”

Your perception was changed too. The scales. The teeth. You should have been terrified. Instead, every word he said swam around your head like a sweet perfume. And like perfume, even if you did manage to get away, his thrall would linger. “Why me?”

“Why not you?”

“Because, I’m – I’m just—”

“Just you?” Before you realized what he was doing, the rope of the buoy drifted away, and he tugged you closer to his chest. The rope closed back behind you. “Just you: the archaeologist. The one who remembers the forgotten. Who gives stories to the lost. A woman who sees through dust and grime the beauty of the ancient and shares it with this new world.” He trailed his fingers across your forehead. “You chose this lonesome life.”

You started and reached back for the rope. When had it gotten so far away? “I am not lonesome. There was a whole crew up there with the same skills.”

Loki reached out, detangling your hand from the rope like a parent would their child from a sweet. “You saw things they didn’t.”

“It was my unit. My square of dirt to uncover. It’s my job to see things they don’t.”

His face drifted closer to yours. “But your view is unique.” Nose to nose, he smelled salty sweet. His grip moved further up your arm, leaving a tingling trail in its wake. “Let me show you ‘why you.’ Let me show you a unique view.”

This was crazy. He was probably dangerous. But, the scientist side of your heart, the one always yearning to learnt he unknown, wanted to see how this would play out. You wanted to know that ‘unique view.’

He smiled as you nodded.

The rope drifted further away.

“Wait!”

Loki stopped.

“I need… promise me that you will return me to my friends.”

“I promise: I will return you to your friends.” His words made the still waters ripple. The same way water echoes around a crocodile as it calls its mate.

“Whole and in one piece.”

His smile deepened. “I promise: I will return you to your friends. Whole, and in one piece.”

When the water stopped rippling, his arms wrapped around your waist. Above you, the stars barely moved. Around you, the water dragged on you like the wake of a large ship. The next time you blinked, Kourion beach was gone. In front of you, a large white stone, shaped like a clamshell, stuck up out of the water. The final steppingstone in a trio from the beach.

“That’s,” you gasped, “that’s Aphrodite’s rock.” You pushed him away to spin around. “But- but that’s two hours down the coast!” When you swam back into his space, you noticed dark tendrils surrounding his shadow under the water. “Who are you?”

“I am Loki.”

“Loki… what are you?”

He circled his thumbs over your shoulders while he looked out to sea. “I am the forgotten. The story-less. Will,” he whispered, “will you remember me, Y/N?”

The eyes that bored into you were more green than blue. And they were filled with so much desperation that your chest ached. You slid your hands up his bare arms to his shoulders. You rubbed your thumbs into his skin, mirroring the movement that he had stilled. “But… Aphrodite. Isn’t this her… her territory?”

He chuckled. Giving you gentle push, the water moved out of the way until your back was against the rough rock. “She won’t mind. We’re just borrowing it.”

You reached up to cup his face. This was crazy. He was acting as if… as if he was some sort of god. Long forgotten. Maybe he was. Who knew who all the ancients worshiped? How many temples and high places had gone missing through the millennia? In your own excavated villa… it was missing ninety percent of its painted frescos. All that lost data.

He was asking you to remember him.

“I don’t know if I can remember you.” Your lips trembled with shuddered breaths as he moved closer. His chest was warm under your hands. “I’m not sure if I’m dreaming or not. If I wake up—”

“Why does it matter if this is a dream?” He ran his nose along your cheek. “Are you willing to dream it? To dream it with this ancient artifact?”

You grinned, mirroring his movement with your nose and his cheek. “Old? You don’t look a day over nine hundred.”

“Why thank you.”

As he spun with you in his arms, you laughed. He laid you on a flat place on the rock that jutted out into the water. The waves were picking up. They drifted over your chest, your breasts sticking half above and below their touch.

Biting your lip, you ran your fingers through his dark hair. “You know, they say if you swim around this rock seven times… Aphrodite blesses you with her beauty.”

“You don’t need such a blessing.” Loki crawled over top of you, kissing your forehead. “And you’ve been talking to a younger crowd. The older story is that she re-grants you your virginity for swimming around. Will you want such a blessing after tonight with me?” His mouth fell open as your tongue darted out to wet your lips. His heaving breath said he could taste the salt on your lips.

“Depending on how this goes…” you arched your chest up into his. “Seven laps won’t do the trick. And, if I am to remember you… why would I need the blessing?”

Eyes glowing, you couldn’t tell whether it was with moon light or desire, Loki dipped his head to press a deep kiss against your lips. Your whole body responded. Immediately, your hands dug into the soft skin of his back. Your legs wrapped around him, tangling you two together like old lovers. When he kissed the under curve of your neck, his sharp teeth dragging over the sensitive skin, you trembled.

Was this a trick? Had he brought you here to drain you?

“You have nothing to fear from me, Y/N.” Loki kneaded his hands over your breasts. His body rocked into yours like a beginning storm. He whispered, “nothing to fear.” With a snap, your swimsuit was gone. Which left more of your skin to slide against his. The soft scales that covered his body made him look like he was filled with moonlight. Their edges caught at your skin like thousands of tiny kisses.

And you could feel him.

His length laid across your lower tummy. You hesitated to look down at it. Chiara’s spicy books had nothing on the heat and weight of it. The weight of him, ready for you. Waiting who knows how long for your return so he could have you. You felt precious. Like a beloved artifact newly found.

You cried out as his fingers curled into you. Out to sea, the waves crashed higher and higher. As did your pleasure. Loki sucked deeply at the valley between your breasts. You arched into his taste and ground down into his touch. Impossible as it was, you felt more than his two pairs of hands traveling across your skin exposed to the water. You thought about the tendril shadows you’d seen. Your definition of impossible was changing by the second. Especially when Loki mouthed at the side of your breast, then licked your nipple into his mouth. You were receiving lovemaking from a god. Your mind spun.

Digging a hand into his hair, attempting to move him as you liked failed. Loki knew what you needed. How, you didn’t care. But his fingers curled when you needed. They scissored you open in time with your gasps and moans. And his thumb circled your clit before you could begin to beg. But you begged anyway. Here was a god. Pinning you down to a goddess’s rock in the middle of the night. You begged for more. More of him. You wanted to feel him. Wanted to be full with him.

“All in due time, my love.” He kissed you deeply, darting his tongue between your teeth to taste more of your mouth. “I need to prepare you.”

“I’m ready. Please. Fill me. Fuck me. I’m yours, Loki. Please.”

He growled. The rumble pressed into your chest, making your thighs tremble around his hips. Curling his fingers rougher, Loki hummed with delight as your slick seeped into the sea around his touch. He slid back into the water, disappearing underneath it. But he dragged your waist further down the rock, until your hips were underwater too. Only then did he dip his tongue into your heat. You cried out to the empty night sky as he ravaged you with his long tongue. Fingers and tongue toying with your walls and your clit, your vision blurred quickly. His tendrils pinned down your writhing hips before you could crawl away from him.

And he kept going. Through a second and a third of your release. The sharp teeth at the edges of his mouth teased with danger. When he finally brought his head up out of the water, he stared you down like a creature untamed. His green eyes shined like back-lit emeralds. He placed his hands on your tummy and rested his chin there.

“Do you still want more, mortal?”

Despite a voice screaming in the back of your head that you’d had plenty… your body begged louder for more. Every cell was alight. Every nerve ending crackled with desire for what Loki was offering.

You reached for him. His fingers tangled with yours. Leaning up, he pinned your hands to the rock on either side of your head. He kissed your forehead while his cock rutted into your sex.

“That wasn’t an answer, my love. I need an answer. Or perhaps you’d like me to take you back to your friends already?”

Frantic, you shook your head. “Please. Fill me. Loki… need you.”

“Of course.”

Despite your whimpered pleas, Loki entered you slowly. You breathed out one breath in time with his thrust. And had to inhale for another. The drag of him teased with your sensitivity. With a final thrust that Loki groaned through, you came again. Your hands clawed the air, still pinned down high above your head. Loki panted. He watched your face as it contorted in pleasure. His scales rippled as your sounds washed over him.

“I could keep you forever,” he murmured.

Was that a threat or a promise?

He didn’t give you time to consider it either way. Fully seated, he refused to move. Instead, his fingers slowly circled your clit. The stars disappeared from your sight as you closed your eyes. Pinned down by your wrists in his other hand, you did your best to roll your hips to inspire him to move. But dark shadows wrapped around your thighs. They pulled your thighs away from Loki’s waist, spreading you open and capturing your movements. Loki increased the speed of his fingers. Unable to move, your voice made up for the difference. You cried out his name, Begging. Pleading. For what, you could never specify. But he understood. Loki gaze focused on the place where your bodies connected. A few moments later, he watched your body spasm around him. Your walls clamped down on his cock, making him moan.

“Only a few more to go.”

“What?” You opened your eyes. Under the starlight, you barely saw the tendrils dart through the water. But you felt them. You felt them wrap around every inch of you that was possible of shifting or arching. They took hold of your wrists, pinning them together. A few wrapped around your waist, pressing you into the rock. More crisscrossed over your chest, between your breasts, squeezing them and pinning down your torso. Within seconds, you couldn’t move a muscle. Except for the ones currently wrapped around a god.

Loki slid his hands up the underside of your thighs. “Look at you,” he purred. His thumbs smoothed just shy of holding open your lower lips. “Gorgeous and spread out, just for me.  My brother be damned.” He thrust once, joining your cry with his own. “All mine.”

Every movement was his own. You could do nothing. Except make every sound that your body willed. Pinned as you were, it heightened every in and out. Every delicate tracing of his fingertips across your skin was like fire. And you were very willing to burn. Or drown. The water crashed against you with the same force as his hips. A tendril kept your head above water. But as Loki’s pace stuttered and faltered, the shadows lost their strength.

You whimpered, “cum with me. Loki, let go.”

“Not yet.” He restarted a steady pace.

“Why not?”

“You’ll see. It’s part of the view.”

The view. The only unique view you cared about at this point was how Loki, your great god of the sea, looked like he was about two seconds from going feral sea monster on you. His eyes were wild and wide. Like he could see every tremble and tremor of your body. His breath stuttered as if he could feel your crashing pleasure like earthquakes. Your eyes crossed, blurring your vision of him. But that was part of the view too. As pleasure once again crested over your body, Loki’s grip tightened around you everywhere. His reaction was a mirror of what you were doing to him.

As your body came down from it’s high, the tendrils lightly squeezed and massaged. You fought to catch your breath. When you opened your eyes, Loki was panting above you. He cupped your face in his hand, pleased when you pressed your cheek into his palm.

“Can you give me one more, love?”

“Oh, Loki…”

“Just one more. I know you can. You’re doing wonderfully.” With a flick of his wrist, the tendrils moved away until you could only feel him. He leaned down to kiss your forehead. The mixture of salt from the sea and your sweat made his mind spin. Quickly, he gripped the base of his cock. Still impaled within you, the fluttering of your walls kept him on edge. “Just one more. And then you’ll be mine.”

A smidgen of clarity tugged at your mind. “What?” What was he doing to you?

“One more, Y/N. Then all will be revealed.”

Finally free, you reached up to wrap your arms around his shoulders. It brought Loki close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. It made you breathless, his last first drag out of your sex. When he slammed home within you, his shout rang against the stone under your head. Yours traveled to echo against the sky. You felt blissfully numb. With so much thrumming of your nerves and how worn out your pussy was, you were about ready to pass out into your deepest sleep ever.

“Give me one more, Y/N. Can you feel it? How perfectly you fit into my arms? How every pulse and beat of your heart matches mine? Can you see it? How well we fit together?” Loki gripped your chin, making you refocus on his face. “Please. Stay with me.”

Something about his tone told you the plea wasn’t just for tonight.

Then he was moving like the sea in a hurricane and you couldn’t think. Your hands clambered to feel him everywhere. Your thighs tightened around his hips. Your legs wrapped around him, locked closed at your ankles. He had pinned you into place. Now it was your turn.

He moaned as your nails dragged down his back. Panting and falling forward, Loki glared at you with a smile as you clamped your walls around his length. He kneaded your breasts in retaliation. Pinching your nipples between his fingers, he tugged on them to guide your body into an arch. It deepened the reach of his cock. Delighted, he wrapped an arm under the small of your back as you wailed his name. He could feel your release coming. And this time, he had no desire to hold back on his own.

“Come with me, Loki.” You ran your trembling thumb across his cheek. “Make me yours.”

“Yes, my love.”

The waves crashed against the rock around you. Gently misted with sea foam, you finally smiled as Loki filled you. The rush and heat of his release sent you spiraling into an orgasm of your own.

Loki continued to thrust, chasing the final sparks of pleasure. When he finally stopped, he gently pushed your sweat-stuck locks of hair off your face. He kissed your forehead. You closed your eyes under the tenderness of it.

When you reopened them, Loki had you stretched out on your own square of soft sand on Aphrodite’s pebble beach. He stretched out beside you, finally giving you the view of his whole form. His fingertips ran up and down your arm. You splayed out your hand on the sand, steadying yourself. How many times had he made you cum?

“Seven.”

“Hmm?”

He grinned. “One orgasm for each magic lap you could have taken.” Laughing with you, he especially watched some beads of water pool in the hollow of your throat as you laid back. “Stay with me.”

“Loki—”

“You will want for nothing. While I am mostly confined to the water, on land you will have everything you need. You can do archaeology year-round, if you want. Or only once a year. I can arrange everything. You need not struggle with finding a place to belong. You won’t have to… how did you put it? Schmoozing.”

You laughed, but felt a weight grow in your chest.

“The mortals are building new villas near here. You can pick one out. They’re an area that’s going to be called Aphrodite’s Hills.” He scoffed. “Since when do gods stay in the place of their birth? I can assure you, the one they sometimes call Zeus does not visit Crete.”

“Loki… I can’t.”

He froze, staring up at you. “Why?”

“For starters… you promised to take me back to my friends.”

His body shuddered. “Whole. And in one piece.”

“Yes.” You licked your lips. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I need – I don’t know what I need.”

Loki took back his touch. He dragged his finger through the sand instead, carving runes and spirals into the granules. “You’re not leaving for a while yet, right?”

“We leave a week from tomorrow.”

He nodded. As his voice stuttered, his eyes bored into yours. Begging. “Then think about it. You don’t have to decide right now. But… before you leave, visit the beach. Any beach. And bring me an answer.” He looked back down at the sand. “Even if it’s no.”

You curled your finger under his chin, guiding him to look at you. “I will.”

It only took a minute to give you back your swimsuit and return you to Kourion beach. The glow of the restaurant illuminated your friends in the distance.  Loki held you close and pressed his lips to your forehead. “Come back to me,” he whispered.

“I will.” You kissed him back. It took everything within you to pull away. “And no matter what happens… I will not forget you, Loki.”

He smiled, dipping his head before he could overwhelm you with how much he didn’t want you to leave. You drifted away, back under the buoys. With a nod, he sent a wave that carried you back to the beach. When you looked back, he was gone.

Lara waved as you walked out of the water. “There you are. We lost sight of you for a second when the waves got big.” As you joined them at the table, she shrugged. “Still not much of a swim. You were only out for, what, five minutes. Was it too dark and scary out there?”

Five… five minutes?

Chiara interrupted, “hey, we were just talking: you sometimes lick pottery to see if it’s glazed right?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the oldest thing you’ve licked?”

You stammered, trying to think while your body was trying to recover from your divine experience. “Um, two- no. Three… thousand years old. My first dig was in the Levant. An Iron age site. I couldn’t tell pottery from bone. Bone sticks to your tongue while ceramic doesn’t—”

Lara laughed. “The oldest thing you’ve licked was three thousand years old. Damn! Would make a good t-shirt: I lick ancient things. Am I an archaeologist or did I go down on the old gods?”

Slapping at her shoulder with a giggle, Chiara urged her to be quiet as the people at a neighboring table looked over. But you were too busy thinking to notice. If you took up Loki’s offer, perhaps you could be one archaeologist who could boast of having done both.

*** An earlier trip to Cyprus: Aphrodite’s Rock (S, Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Masterlist

Other Loki Fics:

When in Paris (S, AR)

Sweet Revenge (S)

To Love the Sea:  Y/N is the daughter of a sea-side innkeeper. The area is known for its draw for pirates, but one pirate is feared above all others: Captain Loki. He offers to take her on adventures; is she willing to take the plunge? [Series Master] (S, complete)

[analysistics]

A morning with y/n Sturniolo

Y/n wakes up to the alarm going off on her night stand. She puts the pillow over her ear and hides under the covers. She wants to just smack her hand over it but it’s out of her reach. She grumbles and emerges from the covers and drags herself across the bed to turn off the alarm. 7:07 AM. She sits there for a moment, her body willing her to go back to sleep, but she hauls herself out of bed and heads across her bedroom to the bathroom. She flicks the lights on, another groan of pain escapes her mouth. She rubs her eyes and sighs, looking in the mirror for a moment before finally moving to get ready.

Y/n trudges down the stairs, the sunlight streaming in through the open bedroom doors helping her stay awake. She comes to the bottom of the stairs and walks towards the kitchen island.

“Morning.” Chris says as soon as he sees me, getting up to open the fridge.

“Morning.” She says back to him, her voice still a bit rocky from sleep. She clears her throat, rubbing her eyes. She grabs her meds from the cabinet and goes to grab a drink, but Chris has already presented her with a glass of water and is sliding a bowl of strawberries to a seat on the island. Y/n smiles at him and heads over to her seat. “Thank you.” She says before noticing the leaves are cut off and the strawberries are sliced in half. Chris is back in his seat, but still peering at her with a small smile on his face. She looks up at him. “You cut them for me?”

“Yes I did. Cuz you’re a child.” He smiles and laughs, returning to his own food.

“Oookay. Well thank you.”

Y/n finishes her strawberries, putting her dishes in the sink, then heads back upstairs to her room. She shuts the door, walks over to her computer set-up and opens up her Spotify. She selects a song and walks over to her closet. Opening it up she scans over her clothes. She picks up her phone to double check the weather before going for a simple lightweight black sweatpant and oversized dark blue shirt. She grabs her clothes and walks to the bathroom to get dressed. She typically puts her bra on first, then finishes her routine before getting dressed. Once her bra was on, she put her hair in a low pony, slid a headband on and grabbed her toothbrush off the counter where it always sat, charging. She splashed water on her face, grabbing a face wash from her bathroom counter. She finished up her face with some moisturizer and a little smidgen of vaseline. She put on deodorant and put her clothes on, grabbing her hair brush and running it through her mid-shoulder length hair. She grabbed two small hair ties and put two half up, half downs in her hair. Y/n doesn’t really wear makeup, it’s unnecessary for her face, but she does a little bit of “grooming”. Grabbing an eyebrow brush, she straightens her eyebrows a bit before combing through her lashes to separate them before using an eyelash curler. First a regular one, then a heated one to make them last longer. Walking back into her bedroom, y/n grabs her backpack off the hook next to her door and sets it onto her desk chair, filling it with the school stuff she brought home from school the past Friday for the weekend. She slides on some socks, grabs her Apple Watch, securely fastening it around her wrist. She grabs the book she’s currently reading and puts it in her bag before stopping her music, grabbing her phone, and heading downstairs with her bag in hand. Chris is now on the couch on his laptop. Y/n sets her bag down on one of the island chairs. She grabs her water bottle, filling it and putting it in her bag, zipping it up and carrying it down the hallway. She sits down on the floor and grabs her converse classics; 

“Matt!” She yells towards the house. “Matty, are you coming?” She hears him yell something indistinguishable. She finishes tying her shoes and goes back over to the stairs. “Matt, I need you!” This time she hears him;

“I know! I’m coming!” She walks back over to Chris and flops down next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. He presses his cheek on her head and keeps working on his laptop. Y/n hears footsteps coming towards them so she stands up in time to see Matt coming down the stairs.

“Let’s go. Morning, Chris.” He says putting a hand on y/n’s shoulder on their way towards the door.

“Bye Chris, love you!” She calls as she grabs her bag and heads out the door, followed by Matt.

“Love you too!” He calls back.

“Did you sleep okay?” Matt asks y/n as he drives her to school.

“Yeah, alright. You?”

“Fine I guess.” About ten minutes later, they’re pulling up to her school. Y/n opens the door and steps out.

“Thanks Matty, I love you.” She says as she shuts the car door.

“No problem, love you too!” He calls as she turns and walks away.

Thanks for reading, let me know if you want more!

[ox1-lovesick]

🏹 he loves me not - p.sh

pairing. bf!sunghoon x gn!reader genre. angst, hurt, lovers to exes, exes to strangers warnings. unrequited love (?) half assed writing, mentions of food wc. 669

type. drabble

a/n. I know I said I don't write for enha anymore (which I don't) but I started moving my drafts to google docs and found this from over a year ago 😭 it was almost done so I edited it a bit. I do have more drafts for enha, if I finish them I'll probably post them too

Somehow, being in a relationship feels exactly the same as being single does. There's no one next to you when you wake up in the morning, no one to keep you company while you eat breakfast, no one to check in on you during the day and ask if you've been drinking enough water, no one to wish you goodnight and cuddle with until the sun rises again the next day, and then do it all over again.

At least not after your honeymoon phase; he was all over you when you'd first started dating. Sunghoon let you know that he loved you every single day. Whether he sent flowers to your home with handwritten messages or simply asked how your day was, you never felt out of place in his arms; in fact, it was the only place you felt fully at home in. Sunghoon was your definition of love; you didn't know what it was before he came into your life.

But these days, you're forgetful. You forgot what it feels like to be held by him; the embrace that greeted you every night when he came home slowly lost its warmth until it felt like his blood ran cold, and then he didn't bother to acknowledge you at all.

You forgot what his voice sounds like. You've never known 4 hours to come and go quicker than when you were on a call with him. The space between hello and goodbye was a blur of nothing but smiles and laughter. He'd beg you, "Just five more minutes" until the birds are chirping as the sunlight seeps through your curtains, and even then he wasn't tired of talking to you. The last time he called you was three months ago.

You've even forgotten what he looks like. The mole on the bridge of his nose—or maybe it was the corner of his lip—that you adored more than any feature on his face Endless coos, and that left him pink, bashful, and giggly. There was nothing that put Sunghoon in a better mood than when you'd fuss over his beauty spots and litter them with kisses. Every time you mention how pretty you find them, the thought of getting them removed is all that crosses his mind

He's been slowly moving out of your apartment, bit by bit. Asking for a hoodie of his you stole back, books, and stationery, he left so he could work on the weekends he spent with you and make their way to his dorm with him, the scent of his cologne on your bedsheets dissipating until the bitter stench of laundry detergent is all that's left. He never brings anything for you any more, but he'll always leave with something, and that will be the last you see of it—see of him—until he's back to take something else from you.

He'll sit there and watch his phone ring. Your name, decorated with a red heart he felt too guilty to remove, lights up his screen for the third time that day, and he'll wait for it to go to voicemail, then he'll wait some more to tell you he was busy and will call you when he can—even though you both know he won't.

The guys know now to stop asking about you; never mention how long it's been since they've seen you; never ask when you're going to visit again; and never ask how you are. They won't get an answer because Sunghoon doesn't know.

It hurts more than you'd ever imagined—probably because you'd never imagined it at all. The thought of your love turning rotten never crossed your mind, ever. A part of you is still in denial, believing his excuses and telling yourself that he does still love you, even when he hasn't said it in months.

But no matter how many flowers you pluck to the stigma or dandelions you make a wish on, your head knows the answer, and so does your heart.

He loves you not.

🗯️ taglist. @k-labels @kpopcontentcreatorsclub @kflixnet @fairy-yeo @tsxkkis @kynrki @hoonfever @haknom @soov

★ OX1-LOVESICK all rights reserved. do not copy, distribute, translate, alter or repost my work without my explicit permission.

[purinjoong]

Hay I don't mean to bother. I really enjoy your writing and think you are amazing. I was wondering that if you are open to suggestions, if you could perhaps write something about Wooyoung in a pool. You really don't have to if you don't want to. Much love, Elsa <3

put you(r love) on a pedestal (j.wy)

summary: nothing could make a private pool date with wooyoung any better, you thought, but wooyoung prides himself on the creative method he came up with to prove you wrong <3

jung wooyoung x reader :: established relationship, smut, fluff, cocky!wooyo, cliche sunscreen scene, fem bodied reader (gender not specified)

warnings below the cut!

praise, teasing, dirty talk, marking, fingering, degradation, a sprinkle of dacryphilia, unprotected sex (!!!), oral sex (reader receiving), pool sex ...., manhandling, pet names (baby, sweetheart, love, woo, wooyo, brat) :: approx 3.6k words

notes: thank u so much for requesting !!!! i missed wooyo so much during his mini hiatus so i was very happy to see a req for him (even though i saw it so late im so sorry...) i hope you enjoy it <33

do not let woo's leanness fool you btw ... he is soo strong did you see him do all those pushups and that finger work out thing in what i think was the universe pirate reboot ..

"Woo, come on," you urge with a pinch to the exposed skin of his waist. He's clad only in his swimming trunks, back tattoo on full display as he works diligently on plating some sort of snack at the kitchen counter of the vacation home the two of you hid yourself away at for the weekend.

"Coming, baby," he says with a chuckle, eyes never leaving the plate. His loss, really— your swim clothes suit your physique so nicely, but it's hard to find fault with him when his tongue is endearingly peeking out the side of his lips in concentration, fingers deftly moving pieces of food around on the plate until he's satisfied (which he announces with a pleased, catlike smile).

You're already sitting at the edge of the pool when he looks up and out of the glass doors, your legs swishing around in the water as one of your hands shields you from the overbearing rays of the sun. He walks out to join you, setting the plate down on the little table between the two lounge chairs. You're met with a different kind of brightness when he smiles at you as he sits down next to you, one that you want to drink in until you're ready to burst.

"Have you put on sunscreen yet?" he asks with a playful nudge to your shoulder.

"Too lazy," you whine, squinting under the sunlight.

"Baby," he chastises, getting up to grab the bottle he set down by the snack plate he prepared.

"I'll be fine, Woo,"

"Not taking any chances," he rebukes with a childish shake of his head, settling into a squat behind you to rub the cold lotion into your skin. His practiced hands knead the thick liquid in until the feeling isn't uncomfortable, taking extra care to massage your tense muscles as he rubs the sunscreen in.

You can't help the soft moans that slip past your lips at his ministrations, biting at the plush skin bashfully at the wanton noises he draws out of you.

His breath tickles the sensitive junction between your neck and your shoulder, and he presses gentle kisses to the skin intermittently as he lathers you with sunscreen.

"Feels good, huh baby?" he says from behind you, and you don't need to turn around to know he's got that cocky grin on his face that tends to arouse you more than it annoys you.

You have to shake your head to free yourself of the daze that's settled over your thoughts from his ministrations to meekly admit that it does, in fact, feel good— no point in lying now, or Wooyoung will tease you much more than you can already tell he's currently planning to.

He hums, satisfied, and withdraws his healing hands from your skin. You barely manage to suppress the pathetic whine bubbling in your throat at the loss, blinking innocently at Wooyoung as he studies your reaction.

He grins at you like he can read your mind, as if you're a pretty puppet he's playing by the strings. You've learned that it's impossible to hide your desires from his all-knowing, sparkling eyes, but it's also impossible not to be deeply in love with every aspect of him, even the teasing ones.

Two can play at that game, though. You make a show of sliding into the water, fully submerging yourself and bobbing back up to the surface to sensually brush wet locks of hair away from your face. "You didn't even notice my new swimwear," you pout exaggeratedly, hiding a cocky smile of your own at the way he so unabashedly gawks at you.

"I noticed," he says coolly, after he's collected himself. He tilts his head to the side and raises an eyebrow at you, the lopsided grin on his lips telling you he's aware of your antics and he won't let you get too far with them.

"And what do you think?" you wheedle, slowly closing the distance between the two of you.

"I think," he starts, wrapping a hand around your waist under the water and tugging you closer, "that I like it very much,"

"That's it?" you sulk, tilting your face away from his in faux disappointment as he leans closer.

"I don't know if you'd be able to handle the unfiltered version, sweetheart," he says lowly. He's so close now that you can feel his breath fan lightly against the side of your neck, and the skin prickles into little goosebumps in anticipation for what's to come.

He's right, if the way you're already fighting the urge to press your thighs together is any indication, but you're not one to give up so easily. Wooyoung loves it.

"Try me," is your bratty response.

Wooyoung's dangerous expression splits into a toothy grin, and he cocks a brow at your boldness as if he wasn't expecting you to be so mouthy today. Something about the way the sunlight illuminates the smooth expanses of his skin, tanned and emitting a lively glow under the summer sky just draws it out of you.

His roaming hands from earlier helped, but there's something so intoxicating about having Wooyoung's presence all to yourself that never fails to get you worked up like this.

"It's like you're begging to get fucked, baby," he coos, sharp grin still on his face. "I think you get off to slutting yourself out for me. I think," he pauses, studying your expression, "you'd already be dripping for me if I pushed that skimpy swimsuit aside,"

He already knows he's won when you bashfully avert your gaze, placing a hand on his chest and feebly attempting to push him away when the close proximity paired with his dirty words becomes too much to bear. He leans closer instead, relishing in the easy knockdown of your defences and your weakness to his charm.

His thick fingers easily lodge themselves between your thighs despite how tightly you've been pressing them together for any sort of friction to relieve yourself, his fingertips probing at your folds on top of your swim bottoms.

"We're in a pool," you gasp, bringing the hand that's not already resting against his chest up to clasp at his shoulder to steady yourself at the pleasurable pressure he's applying to your core. "It's just water you're feeling,"

You let out an embarrassingly needy squeak when he slips his fingers past the fabric that's been occupying his thoughts from the moment he spotted you through the glass doors. His fingers effortlessly slide through your folds, assisted by the wetness he knew would be there— his perfect plaything, always so ready for him. Wooyoung doesn't know how he got so lucky with you, but he reminds you every chance he gets by worshipping your body as it deserves to be.

He forces himself to wrench his hand away from your core, bringing it above the surface of the water and making scissoring motions with two of his fingers, studying the way your wetness clings to them and ties them together with clear strings of sticky arousal.

"Wooyoung," you hiss, flustered. Your legs are too wobbly for you to focus your energy on hitting him reprovingly, too devastated at the loss of stimulation between your thighs to do much else than huff at him and hope he goes back to lavishing you with his attention.

"Doesn't look like water to me, baby," he teases, spreading his pointer and middle finger apart into a V shape to show off the strings of arousal clinging to them. Before you can retort, he laves his tongue in between them, making sure you get a nice view of his tongue before he brings the fingers together and sticks them in his mouth.

He moans around them, eyes fluttering shut as he savors the taste of you— the slight flavor of chlorine from the pool doesn't hinder him in the slightest, not when you're positively dripping with his favorite treat, filled to the brim with that sweetness he's always craving whenever the two of you are apart.

"That's—" you stutter, unable to form the words as your mind goes blank at the sinful sight in front of you. Really, you should have known better than to challenge Wooyoung at this game when you know he always wins, but you've always been partial to fucking around and finding out.

"I need to have my mouth on you, now," he interrupts, popping his fingers out of his mouth and gripping at your waist.

"As enticing as that sounds," you breathe, stumbling into his chest as he pulls your body impossibly closer, "I'm not letting you lick up pool water, and I'll die if I have to wait to shower to get you to fuck me,"

Wooyoung groans at the words, his displeasure of being denied his favorite meal fading into the background the second you voice your desperation. When you're in a bratty mood, he usually has to coax the words out of you— "Beg," he'll say, "beg me to fuck you, and maybe I'll think about," and as much as he loves to watch you squirm under his gaze, he can't deny the dick-hardening appeal of you pleading for him to fuck you without him even having to ask.

"You're going to come on my fingers first," he says saccharinely as he lifts you by the waist so you're sitting precariously on the very edge of the pool, grasping at his shoulders for stability. "And then I'm going to have you coming on my cock until you can't anymore,"

His voice is so pretty and sugary sweet while his touches are anything but— his fingers grip tightly at your waist like he's trying to transfer the desire spilling out of him into you before he finally presses his fingers against your pussy once more. "How bad do you want it, baby?" he asks, never one to resist teasing you when the opportunity arises.

"You already know, Wooyoung," you whine. "You already know I want you, I need you, please, just give it to me,"

He hums noncommittally, but slides two fingers into you nonetheless. He delights in the breathy sigh you let out at the feeling, fingers curling within you and brushing tantalizingly against your walls as you clench around them.

"I don't know if I'm convinced, love," he muses, digging his fingers in deeper so they press sweet pressure around your g-spot, but never directly on. He grins at the way you squirm to get him to just finger you properly, the way you know he can, the cocky bastard.

"Need you to fuck me, Woo," you plead. "Been thinking about it since," you interrupt yourself with a stilted gasp, thighs twitching around his hand as he fucks you, "since I saw you all focused in the kitchen,"

Your words are barely understandable with the way you punctuate each one with a little moan, but Wooyoung's well-versed in the art of translating. He prides himself on the obvious effects he has on you, savoring the way your lips struggle to form sentences but sing a litany of pretty noises of pleasure just for him.

"Wanted you to fuck me over the counter," you whisper. "Or on it, just really— ah, really need you to fuck me, please, Woo, baby, I'll be good, I promise,"

"That why you decided to tease me when you got in the pool?" he says, and it's so nonchalant you want to whine in frustration. How can he be so calm and collected while his fingers rob you of your thoughts, your mobility, your sanity? "Thought you could seduce your innocent, hard-working boyfriend who only aimed to please, preparing his sweet baby a snack, into fucking you, hmm?"

"Well it looks to me like it worked," you huff, nails digging into the supple skin of his shoulder at particularly pleasurable thrust of his fingers. Hard-working, Wooyoung was unbelievably so, but innocent? Your current position, turned to putty by a single hand of his clearly begs to differ.

"Brat," he spits, but the smile has never left his face. He adores you like this— snarky, punching out your smart remarks through gritted teeth, kiss-bitten lips, and lecherous moans as you fight the urge to melt into him.

He'll always find it cute, unbearably so, how you try to mask your obvious desperation for him behind bratty little quips while pawing at his chest or his shoulder in the hopes of getting him to give you more, to give you all of him until there's nothing left.

"Just for that," he drawls, using his free hand to gently grip your chin with two fingers so that you're forced to meet his eyes, "you won't be getting my cock tonight,"

His grin sharpens sadistically at the way your face falls, eyebrows drawing together and lips folding into a pitiful pout. "You wouldn't," you breathe. You mean for it to sound confident, bold— how could he possibly not give in— but your words come out feebly, sounding more like a pleading whine than a dismissal.

"Oh, I would, baby," he chuckles, crooking his fingers inside you and relishing in the squeak you let out in response. "You know I'm more than entertained overstimulating you with my fingers and tongue,"

You're too far gone to give him a disgruntled reply, too lost in the sensation of his knuckles dragging deliciously against your walls. You don't even register his promise of overstimulation— you're too focused on the heights he's bringing you to with just two of his fingers, moving so expertly within you that you can't be bothered to think of anything else.

"My baby's a pervert, huh?" he laughs condescendingly, immediately melting your indignant expression away at the accusation by bringing the hand that was gripping your chin down to circle your clit. Your mouth falls open, soft, desperate pants spilling past your lips in abandon.

"Think 'm coming, Woo, please," you beg, shutting your eyes tightly at the overwhelming wave of pleasure.

"Yeah?" he mocks, purposely hitting just around your g-spot to frustrate you. "Just from this, baby? So easy for me,"

You shake your head vigorously, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you struggle to keep your thighs spread for him. You know he'll punish you with a sharp slap to the plush flesh and just push them back open if you don't— he's always been able to continue his assault on your pussy despite the pressure of your thighs encasing his wrist.

He groans in harmony with the jilted keen you let out as you squirt all over his hand, wrist and forearm dripping with your juices as you try to catch your breath. He doesn't let you, though— he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, fingers finally hitting your g-spot as he drops all the pretenses. He needs to see your face contort like that again, to feel your nails dig into his skin and your thighs tremble around him as you reach another high.

"Squirting already?" he laughs breathlessly, his onslaught on your pussy unhindered by your weak grip on his soaked forearm and pathetic swats to his sun-kissed chest.

"Don't flatter yourself," you gasp, trying to squirm away from the pleasure.

"Running from me, baby?" he pouts, abandoning your clit to push you into him, crowding you against his chest. "I'm hurt,"

"'s too much, Wooyo, can't take it,"

"I thought you wanted this, love," he says, voice coated in faux sympathy. He has to fight to keep the pout on his face when your walls flutter at his tone— he loves the effect he has on you, how your thighs clench when he acts mean.

He loves you from the bottom of his heart, and he loves that you trust him to tear you apart like this, melt you into a puddle of thoughts that sing nothing but Wooyoung's praises and fill you with mind-numbing satisfaction.

"You were begging me to fuck you earlier, remember?" he coos, bringing a hand up to brush the back of his fingers against your cheek. The sudden urge to bring you to blissful tears overtakes him as he does so— your bashful gaze is turned down to the sloshing pool water, and he wants to see the pretty tears spill from your lash line and glitter in the sunlight as they slide down your cheeks.

He'll unpack that later, though— for now, the remainders of your arousal from your first orgasm sliding down his forearm reminds him of the pleasure you denied him earlier. This time, paltry excuses of pool water won't prevent him from getting a taste of you.

Wooyoung hooks his forearms under your thighs, muscles flexing as he lifts you up until your legs are resting on his shoulders, calves brushing against his back while he buries his face into your cunt.

Wooyoung's name falls past your lips in a strangled whimper, your hands flailing before you steady yourself by gripping the soft strands of his hair. You love the way the length suits him, the classic black his hair was dyed when you fell in love, but you've never been more thankful for the strong locks of his hair until now.

"You can't!" you exclaim, albeit shakily from the vigor he's eating you out with, his perfect, pretty nose rubbing lewdly against your clit.

"Why not?" he mumbles through a mouthful of your pussy, hands kneading the flesh of your ass as he devours you.

"The chlorine—"

"Can't taste a thing but you, baby," he coos into your cunt, nudging insistently at your clit with his nose as if to prove his point. "Always so fucking sweet for me,"

"Wooyo, 'm gonna come again, please," you whimper, fingers curling into his hair as you can't seem to decide whether you want to pull him away from your core or push him closer.

"So obedient, love," he hums, chuckling when you moan at the way every syllable vibrates through your body. "So good, asking for my permission,"

"Please?" you repeat pitifully, nails scratching deliciously against his scalp.

"Give it to me, sweetheart," he says, and you immediately reward him with a plaintive whine and your orgasm spilling into his mouth. He laps it up greedily, sucking and licking at you as you wobble precariously on his shoulders from the overstimulation, shuddering little whimpers falling from your lips as he works you through it.

"So good for me," he repeats. "Love you so much, baby,"

He giggles when your dazed reply comes a few beats later, a sweet "Love you too, so much, Wooyo," that has his heart squeezing in his chest like your words tightly wrapped a rubber band across the muscle.

"Wanna take care of you, want your cock," you babble, squirming above him as he presses gentle kisses to your soaked and kiss-bitten thighs.

"You're going to have to give me a few minutes, love," he says sheepishly, carefully lifting you off of him and holding you close to his chest as you stumble to regain your footing in the pool.

"No way," you blink incredulously, slightly more lucid as you make sense of his sentence. "Did you really—?"

"Couldn't help myself," he whines, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. "You're so sexy, taste so good, sound so pretty for me.. It'd be impossible not to with someone as gorgeous and perfect and lovely as you squirting all over me,"

You whack his chest lightly for the last bit— uncalled for, even if it's true— and giggle into his neck. "We're going to have to drain the pool or something before we check out of here, Woo," you laugh. "I can't believe you did this,"

"We did this," he corrects. "And by this, you mean made sweet, sweet love, so I really don't see the problem!"

"You're insatiable,"

"You were begging me for my cock literally 5 seconds ago," he retorts, pinching your waist and tightening his grip around you when you try to squirm away.

"Well, I changed my mind," you tease, grinning at him.

He mirrors you with a dazzling smile of his own, bumping your foreheads against one another. "Unfortunately," he says, hauling you over his shoulder and ignoring your surprised squeal, "No take backs, baby. All's fair in love and war,"

"Is that what we are?" you ask, dangling from his shoulder as he walks you back into the rental home, uncaringly dripping water all over the floor. "At war?"

"Nooooo, baby, we're in love!" he whines, deliberately jostling you around in retaliation.

"Yeah, we are," you giggle breathlessly, giving in. "I'm so happy we were able to spend time like this, even if the circumstances that created the opportunity were less than ideal," you say when he sets you down on the edge of the large bathtub.

"Me too, love," he brushes his nose against yours, then presses a sweet kiss to your forehead. "And I'll be okay, you don't have to worry,"

"I know," you say quietly, drinking him in. From his wet, slicked-back hair to his pretty, tanned skin, the dot under his eye and on his lip that you love to spot in the barefaced photos he sends you after his schedules. His sparkling eyes as deep as the night sky that hold your whole world in them. "I just hate to think of you struggling on your own, dealing with things on your own,"

"But I'm not alone, my love," he reminds you, gently cupping your face with his palms. "I'm not alone, and I never will be," He kisses you, softly, lovingly, reassuringly— your sweet, kind, loving Wooyoung, so full of love and so willing to give it.

"You're my everything, Woo," you whisper.

"And you're mine," he smiles.

[sleepymccoy]

Let me tell you about the space ship I've made up

Looks like an alien ufo

Biggish. Like, could land in a football stadium but it'd be tight

Used to be a novelty luxury cruise ship so the interior walls are artistic and stupid

The outside is artistic and stupid too lol

This is a random google image, but has the vibe

Is now a retrofitted fishing vessel owned by the government

Still has a theatre tho. Madness

Top floor in the little alien bubble is the bridge and some of the engine

The government is making the crew trial a new form of engine fuel which is basically fish offal and sunlight. It's working but god at what cost?

Is fish offal a term? I think it gets the vibe across

So the engines need like weekly cleaning and are exhausting

They've got three engines cos if a crab gets caught stalled in there they have to swap to an auxiliary

And it smells like cooked fish

One quarter of the floor opens up to let them do some open air fishing when they're over water

The bottom floor is smaller than the main and used to be the staff rooms when it was a yacht

Now it's been retrofitted into a vegetable farm in another government initiative to have self sustaining food on short transit ships

Like this

It kinda works, this is a small scale rollout to check feasibility

They don't have fake gravity so when they're in space everyone floats

The beans are having a hard time adjusting to zero grav

Some of the crew are a bit new to it too

There's hooks to help people walk and furniture on the ceiling to use while in space

The ship feels much smaller when it's landed

Cos it's a big ol disc it has to flip 90° to launch out of orbit, cos of air resistence

So all the launch safety chairs are mounted on the walls out of the way and you've gotta climb a little ladder to get to one lol

Union regs are trying really hard to keep up with 24/hr ship maintenance

There are four eight hours shifts in a 24 hour day, three of them function in turn for a third of the day each, and the fourth in management

They don't have titles like night duty, morning shift, so on, cos time is made up here. But they have different focuses and skill sets

Like the equivalent of night duty has an extra cleaner to do deep cleaning, and the engineer is more skilled in maintenance and upkeep than complex flight support

The management shift is the worst for sleep schedule cos you just gotta get up when shit happens

There are half as many beds as there are crew and they share with someone on a different shift

Management shares with night duty and if they have to be up during night duty they just find a different spot to kip during the day

Like I said, union is still figuring it out

We're around Saturn, the union movement is pretty new! This is a source of tension cos most of the government employees aren't unionised

They also actually wear the uniforms, the losers

So I got ahead of myself there, there's three types of crew

Ship function, like engineer, cleaner, cook, pilot, that kind of vibe (mostly unionised, mostly refuse to wear the uniforms)

Government hire, like the gardeners (they prefer botanists but cmon) and chemical engineers figuring out the propulsion system (taking the initiative project very seriously)

The fishermen (the fuck is a uniform I'm paid commission) (that is not true, but they have that vibe)

When they're over the ocean fishing most of the rest of the crew take a weekend

When they're landed to trade fish nearly everyone gets time off

When they're flying the fishermen get time off

There might be some small jobs to do if there's a long period of time with no real work, like if it's four days between fishing jobs the fishermen will do a stocktake count in storage

Or if they're trading keeps them overnight the engineers and cleaners might take the opportunity to clean the airlocks and chutes safely

An eight hour shift is never busy, there's a lot of down time between tasks cos they work every day and need some time off

This means there's often an opportunity to fuck, which has formed most of the forward momentum in the story I'm writing lolll

Also cos the beds are on a roster they kinda have to fuck in public places oh noooo what a shame that I get to add tension to every other blow job

[scarabsinthestardust]

Tender // Ch. 6

MASTERLIST

word count: 2900+

Oof, sorry guys.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: descriptions of child abuse; mentions of ghosts; scary images; physical violence; domestic abuse; alcoholism; manipulation; depression; anxiety; undiagnosed unspecified mental illness; hallucinations; lying; arguing; lying; toxic behavior; cheating; brutal assumptions of infidelity with no evidence; slight mention of sexual themes/implications of sex; talks of rehab - let me know if I missed anything!

The cellar was musty, dark, and cold as cellars often are. There was no light except for the thin line of sunlight creeping through the rotten wood of the door. The stone walls and dirt floor offered no warmth in the January West Virginia air. There was no one to offer comfort to the little redheaded boy locked up in the darkness.

His leg was chained, the heavy metal leaving bruises on his bony ankle. He couldn’t keep track of the time very well, but he’d been down there long enough that the rumbling hunger in his stomach turned into pain. He’d been left with nothing but a bucket of dirty water that smelled of rotten eggs; it was just enough to keep him alive.

It took time, but he learned not to be afraid of the bugs and the rats. He had no food for them, and therefore was uninteresting. What he did fear, however, were the ghosts.

If they were actually there, or if they were just figments of his imagination, created in his own mind to make up for being alone, he didn’t know. They seemed real enough to him, though. Most of the time, he only heard whispers from shadows he couldn’t see. Sometimes a man’s voice would stick out from the rest, as clear as if it was sitting right next to him. It mostly asked him weird questions – “Is the rain coming? Did you bring in the firewood? Is the heifer put out to pasture?” The worst of them all was the burnt lady. The boy could smell it on her, the unmistakable stench of skin and flesh burning. She would get really close, where he could feel her hot breath on his face, and she would scream. Her banshee-like wails never ceased to frighten him; the boy would curl up on the cold dirt floor and cover his ears, sobbing until either the ghost disappeared, or he lost consciousness.

~

JOSHUA

“I thought you didn’t want to go to that thing. You said it was too ‘bougie’ for you or something.”

“I never said that,” argued Josh. “I just changed my mind is all.”

Jake snorted. Even over the phone, he could tell his twin was hiding something. “Did you and Finn fight again?”

Sighing in annoyance, Josh responded, “No, Jacob. He’s in Utah for the weekend anyways. I just talked myself into going, and Ron still had the extra ticket.”

Jake didn’t push any further, but he knew there was more to it than that. And he was right. Josh was still a little shaken up and didn’t quite know how to tell anyone. Truthfully, he was afraid. He was scared to be home in case Finn returned early, and he knew if he was in close proximity to Jake, the secret would inevitably get out. And he knew he needed to keep it under wraps, because he wasn’t ready to walk away from the man that he loved, despite every bone and bruise on his body screaming for him to do just that.

So, he called Ron, his vocal coach and long-time friend, to see if the invitation still stood for some classy music event in New York. There was still an open availability, and Josh jumped at the opportunity to be gone for a few days. He hoped Finn wouldn’t mind.

~

I replay it in my head nonstop on the drive to Salt Lake City. Currently sober, I pick at the memory to see if I can figure out where I went wrong, when things escalated to that point. I’m not having any luck. In fact, I can’t even remember why I was mad in the first place. It had to have been something he did, right? And it didn’t help that he argued back, talked to me like it was my fault, like I’m the crazy one. He was pissed at me for coming home drunk – hell, I was pissed at myself. But I can’t recall what else was said for the life of me, not until I put my hands on him again.

I grabbed him, tight enough to leave marks, I’m sure, and I slammed him into the edge of the dining room table. Hard. I’m surprised I didn’t break anything. I apologized immediately, of course. That has to mean something. I remember backing up against the wall and sinking to the floor. I cried and begged him to forgive me. I told him there was no excuse, but that it wouldn’t have happened if he just didn’t push my buttons when I’m in that state. The tears get under his skin and make him feel guilty, until he feels obligated to apologize to me. I promised him it won’t happen again. The black and purple bruises on his back and side were already starting to show by the time we finally went to bed.

It's eating me from the inside out, this guilt. I want to be someone else, anyone that isn’t me. I wish I wasn’t so unpredictable, like a feral dog when it’s cornered, snapping at the people trying to help it. I’m unstable like nitroglycerin, explosive and set off by the smallest jolt. But Josh is the one who keeps getting burnt. I’ll tell myself I’ll do better, that I can change, but I’m lying. I can fake it, sure, I’m great at faking it. I can pretend that everything is okay. I can even make Josh believe that I’m getting better, healthier, happier – that I’m healing. But it will only last for a short time until I stumble again, and I’ll grab him as I fall, taking him down with me.

I get through my work just fine. I spend all day Friday, Saturday, and some of early Sunday meeting with colleagues, organizing events, and gathering information and petitions for wildlife conservation efforts that will eventually be submitted to local and state government officials. It keeps me busy, so I can keep my mind off of other things, and in turn, it keeps me sober. Come Sunday evening, though, the fuse starts burning again.

I haven’t talked to Josh much. I’ve been preoccupied with work and figured we both needed space. I want to check on him, though, to make sure he’s okay. But when I call him, it rings and rings until it goes to voicemail. That’s reason enough for me to check his location, and it shows him in Manhattan. What the hell is he doing in New York? He definitely didn’t say anything about going out of town. At least, not to me. And why would he hide that from me other than to keep secrets? I just can’t decide why he ended up there; is he running to let himself be held in someone else’s arms, or is he running away from me? Is this some messed up way to tell me it’s over? Does he realize he’ll take a part of me with him if he leaves?

I try to call him again but I get the same result. What could he possibly be doing there?

I end up at a nearby bar, because it seems like a better idea than going home when I know Josh isn’t there, and a much better idea than chasing him to Manhattan. The bar seems to be a pretty popular joint. There is a live band, mostly playing older rock music, and they offer a selection of mixed drinks and cocktails, but I prefer straight tequila or whiskey.

I don’t know how long I sit at the bar; time passes so strangely when I’m in this state. The outskirts of my vision are blurry and everyone around me seems to move in slow motion. I watch the ice in my drink as it seems to change shape, molding itself into faces I don’t recognize. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was drugs, swirling my thoughts into some that are not my own. But I do know better. It’s just my own fucked up brain chemistry. It’s scarred from my twisted history, irreversibly damaged. I know what I’m seeing isn’t real, and I’ve learned how to sit quietly and pretend that I’m not on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Sometimes I’ll see her in my periphery, sitting next to me, the smell of her burnt flesh making my eyes water. I never look directly at her, though. I can’t bring myself to, out of fear that if I can really see her, she’s real.

I’m definitely drunk, but I haven’t completely hit rock bottom yet. I could probably still walk just fine, maybe even drive. At any rate, the bartender hasn’t cut me off yet, not that that’s ever stopped me before. Someone slides in next to me to order another drink and I have to do a double take.

He’s young, maybe in his early 20s. The first thing I notice are his hands, visibly soft and slender, wrapped around his glass with painted fingernails. His hair is dark and cut short, but I can see a few stray curls that he tried to hide with hair product. He asks the bartender for a whiskey sour and I can’t stop staring at his lips, plush and pink. Despite the obvious differences, he looks so much like Josh and I’m hypnotized.

He must have felt me staring and turns to meet my eyes. He flashes me a bright smile, and I’m compelled to give him one in return.

“Hey, you’re a cutie.” He leans closer to be heard over the music and I can smell liquor on his breath. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s probably drunk, too. I don’t know how to respond but he fills the gap. “You here with anyone?”

“No.” I shake my head. A decent man would tell him at this point that he’s already spoken for, but I’m far from decent. “I’m just in town for work. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Someone as handsome as you, you’ve got to have somebody waiting for you at home?”

He’s a flatterer, and oh so considerate of my boyfriend, who he doesn’t even know exists. He’s given me more than one opportunity to be a good person, to be the person I want to be, if not for myself, then at least for Josh. But I’m undeniably angry at my boyfriend for lying, betrayed by whatever I’ve decided he’s doing up there. So, it’s no great surprise that I choose to lie, to fuck everything up as I’m prone to do. “Nope, it’s just me.”

“Well, good.” He grins and places his hand on my arm, leaning closer so he can speak directly in my ear. “I’d hate for you to spend the night alone.”

I should push him away, put some distance between us, and make it clear that I won’t be leaving with him. But I don’t. His smile is sweet, but I know he isn’t as innocent as he seems. He knows what he’s doing. I’d bet a whole paycheck that he does this often; his body count is probably higher than Josh’s. But who am I to judge, especially at this moment? If he wants to give it up to the first attractive stranger in a bar, I won’t deny him that. It’s likely what Josh is doing right now, anyways. He’s probably choking on some other guy’s cock, being used up like the fucking slut he is. And if he’s going to blatantly disrespect me like that, I might as well do the same.

“I’m Stephen.”

I won’t need to know his name come tomorrow, but I can make sure he’s screaming mine tonight. “Finn.”

He’s got a mischievous glint in his eye as he leads me to a nearby motel. It’s only a few blocks away so we walk. I pay for the room in cash. We waste no time getting what we came here for, the alcohol in our systems lowering our inhibitions and doing away with all remnants of self-control.

I’m gone before the sun even starts to rise, leaving him alone in the room, tangled up in cheap motel bedsheets.

~

What have I fucking done? I’m the biggest hypocrite. After all that fighting with Josh, accusations of infidelity and betrayal, I turned around and did the one thing I swore I would never do to him. And there’s something else, gaps in my memory of the night, that my poisoned brain is filling in with even worse thoughts, things I can’t…

Josh will never forgive me. I can’t tell him; I have to keep this secret with me and hold it within my chest until it’s buried with me. I can’t keep living like this. I need help, real help, the kind that Josh can’t provide on his own. I can’t lose him.

When I pull into the driveway of his house, the sun’s just finding its place in the sky. I spot his suitcase, half unpacked and haphazardly tossed on the ground by the front door. The house is quiet, and I find him asleep in bed. He’s on his stomach, face hidden between the pillows, breathing softly. His shirt has ridden up a bit, and my breath hitches at the bruises on his side. I did that to him. I need to fix this.

I hate waking him and pulling him from the peaceful dreams he’s temporarily living in, but I fear it can’t wait. I gently nudge his shoulder until he groans, “Five more minutes, Jake.”

“Josh, it’s me.” I’m purposely trying to keep things as calm as possible, so my voice is almost a whisper.

He rolls over and opens his eyes, blinking sleepily as he works on waking up enough to register what’s happening. He sits up slowly, but he doesn’t shy away from my touch. That’s a good sign. “You’re back late. I thought you would be home yesterday.”

Home. “I’m sorry. I got caught up in some stuff and had to stay Sunday night. I, uh, I saw… did you go somewhere?”

He rubs his eyes. “Uh, yeah. I went to a music event with Ron in New York City. It was okay, a fancy dinner and mostly mingling with snooty theater people.” I believe him, and while I know anything could have realistically happened with any of those people, I feel the guilt wash over me again for doubting his loyalty. I don’t have any room to talk anyways.

“Josh, I fucked up again.” He sighs in disappointment and averts his gaze downward. “I know… it’s not fair that I keep putting this on you. I can’t explain why… I don’t want to do it anymore. I need… I need to go to rehab, and I need your help.”

When his eyes meet mind again, he looks hopeful. “You’ll actually go to rehab?”

“Yes. For you, I’ll do whatever I need to do. I can’t keep doing this to you.” I feel salty tears run down my cheeks and I hover my hand over his side, where I know the bruises are still there, hidden under his shirt now. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t apologize enough and I can never make up for all the shitty things I’ve done to you.”

He grabs my face and kisses me hard. He’s crying now, too. “I forgive you,” he says.

“How could you? I don’t deserve that, I don’t deserve you.”

“Easy. It’s ‘cause I love you. And your stupid face, remember?” He lets out a small laugh at his own words. “I’ll help you however I can. I’ll start looking for places today, and we can pick one out. Maybe go talk to them before you decide?”

I’m in utter disbelief that he still wants anything to do with me, more so that he’s willing to go out of his way to do this for me. I haven’t earned it. Maybe if he knew what happened in that motel room, he wouldn’t be so willing, but still, I can’t bring myself to tell him. “You’ll be there with me, to go talk to someone first?”

“Of course. I’ll be by your side the whole time.”

I’m terrified at the thought of being stuck in what is ultimately a glorified mental hospital. I dread the idea of being separated from Josh. I’m petrified of the thought of them using me as a test subject, putting me in restraints and stabbing me with needles for the fun of it. But mostly I’m afraid it won’t work. What happens if I complete a whole program, even pass with flying colors, just to be freed and still be broken? I don’t want to go back to that, and I can’t handle the possibility that I’ll only hurt him again.

“We can start looking later. Let’s just… rest for now.” His voice pulls me from my thoughts. “You wanna watch a movie with me until we both pass out?”

I manage a small smile and gently brush my knuckles against his cheek. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

I change clothes while he picks a movie, settling on an old Western comedy with Gene Wilder. Once under the covers, I get as close to him as I can; I just want to be near him and feel the warmth from his skin. He lets me lay my head on his chest. He’s stroking my hair and it’s strangely relaxing.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he whispers. And for a few brief moments, I think he might be right.

///

TAGLIST Let me know if you want to be added!

@hollyco @fleetingjake @musicislove3389 @hailthegodsong @josh-iamyour-mama @katuschka @lilbitx

[night-market-if]

Hydrate, you fool. Get water, food, and some sunlight if you haven't. (Not to suggest you haven't, but just making sure there's a reminder to hydrate if you haven't.) Your work is also awesome, and the effort you put in is great and astronomical. It matters to you, and that, dear author, is true beauty. Again, drink water if you haven't and stretch. Also Iroh is awesome.

For a second I thought you were @mooreaux

I was outside with the chickens all weekend, planting my garden. I just ate some yummy curry. And I'm getting up now to go get some water. If not, I will be yelled at by my work partner.

Thank you for the love, anon.

[ranchracoon]

Ch. 3: No Return

The exhaustion from the past week couldn't compare to anything you had experienced. Muscles you didn't know existed ached, you couldn’t even wash your hair properly because of how badly your arms hurt. The skin on your knuckles was raq with dried blood in a few of the cracks. How a woman three times your age could do this for so long was beyond you. Today however is laundry day, which means a whole lot of washing by hand but also a lot of down time. The laundry has to be hung inside because the mist from the waterfall will keep them wet, but it takes longer which means you got to relax more.

While you do so, Angie made herself scarce and you dallied around on the main floor for something to do. There's a few book shelves that you rummaged through but none caught your fancy. You took another pass, and lowered your standards until you decided on one. The sun had begun to set when you finished your reading and made your way to the back room. It gets the most sunlight compared to the rest of the house.

It feels like a greenhouse, with the ceiling and walls made from glass with tile flooring. Tight ropes lined the room from wall to wall with clothing hung from each one. You grabbed the last article of clothing from the clothes line; a luxurious, red, suit jacket that was softer than any material you've ever felt. All the clothes were oddly slim, you would have thought that someone who stayed inside all the time would be the size of the duke but, these clothes looked like they could fit you easily. They must be a twig, an insanely tall twig, but a twig none-the-less. Must be something in the water that makes everyone so tall.

You folded each article of clothing and divided them by ownership which was exceptionally easy. Angie does her own laundry, and your clothes are thrift store fancy at best. Meanwhile the lord's belonged on the runway of Paris, or on a magazine cover. You dropped off the basket of clothes in front of the lord's bedroom then excused yourself for the evening.

Sundays were your day off according to Angie, apparently the lord is gone all day doing whatever lords do and would return in the evening for dinner. It was also the day you went grocery shopping for the week, and Angie was going to let you pick out ingredients. This was your chance, if you could make something actually edible for the lord, maybe he'll come out to thank you. Or at least expose Angie to something other than whatever concoction she did make.

The next morning while you dressed you couldn't help but think how this lord managed to move around the manor without you or Angie noticing. There must be secret tunnels or something that they traveled through, because there was no way they could move from the workshop to their bedroom without cutting through the kitchen. On Friday you served lunch to the workshop, spent the entire day in the kitchen cleaning then the bell for their bedroom rang. It was impossible. Unless you're more oblivious than you thought. You grumbled under your breath then stopped dead in your tracks and shook your head. Great. Now you were acting like that deranged woman.

You hurried downstairs and to the kitchen as fast as you could to avoid Angie, in the kitchen you didn't see anyone and grabbed a bowl of leftover mush. It tasted like vomit but it was all you had, for now. You hadn't been this excited for something as mundane as grocery shopping since, ever. You leaned against the counter and a sudden clang against it made you jump. Looking over you saw Angie who dropped a bag of lei next to you.

"Is that my pay?" You asked.

"No, it's to buy food." She snapped.

"So, when do I get paid for all this work?"

She cackled, "what do you need to be paid for? You have a room, and food. What more do you need? A vacation? Ha."

She had a point, where would you go if you did have money? Could go back home and couch surf, get a steady 12 hour job and work 5 days a week. Plus weekends. You decided to remain quiet and finished your meal. After you finished you washed your dishes, dried them, then put them away. Angie left you in the kitchen while you found a basket and blanket to hold the food, when she returned she was wrapping a shawl over her shoulders.

"I'll be going with you to the village to visit my girls. You'll be on your own so don't do anything stupid. Remember, you now represent Lord Beneviento which is nothing to snuff at. Anything you do is a reflection of them."

"Girls? You have daughters?" You asked surprised.

"No, they're Lady Dimitrescu's daughters but I visit them every Sunday so they're practically my girls too." She replied.

You nodded in acknowledgment as the two of you rode the elevator up then passed through the front doors. Angie hummed to herself the entire walk and you hugged yourself as the wind blew past you, it carried the crisp bite of fall with it. The thin jacket you wore wasn't enough to keep the cold out, you would need something thicker to survive the winter. Angie continued to hum until she crossed over the grave of Claudia. She stopped walking and humming, her stare moved to it for a moment. You watched her watch the gravesite until she relit the candle and covered it with a glass dome so it wouldn't blow out again.

"Angie?" You asked softly.

"Hm?" She answered.

"Who was Claudia?"

Angie stayed silent for a long time before she started to walk away from you, she sighed heavily and the wetness of tears appeared in her eyes.

"I suppose you should know. Claudia was the lord's mother. She died from a horrific disease, but she was the kindest woman you've ever met. Her husband though, the late Lord Beneviento was a dark man, the definition of evil. Rumor has it he's the reason the lord doesn't come out. I started working there very shortly after the mother's death. Poor dear must have just been a child then." She replied sadly.

You sighed softly as you thought about it, all this time they've been completely alone with no one but Angie as company. It made you think back to your mother, and whenever you were upset she would cook you something, but now you also understood not having that comfort. The rest of the journey was silent, with only the wind and the brush of the weeds as company. The village came into view and Angie wiped her tears away as she looked back at you.

"This is where I leave you. Be back at the manor by 6pm sharp for dinner."

"Yes ma'am."

You watched her waddle toward the village center where three, tall,  gorgeous women waited for her. One brunette, one ginger, and one blond. They looked exactly the same aside from the hair color, and microscopic differences in their facial structure. They even wore the same black cloaks with black roses pinned on the upper left of their collarbone. If they looked like that, their mother must be a goddess on Earth.

Angie opened her arms wide as the three women swarmed her in hugs and giggles then walked with her out of sight. Not a single glance your way. A thought occurred in your head, a meal you used to love growing up and always made you feel better but there was one, little, issue: it required fish. That'll be the last thing you get. It didn't take long to acquire the rest of the ingredients: rice, ginger, cucumber, soy sauce, garlic, and other seasonings. All of it fresh and handmade or grown locally. However, now that you're finished that meant you had to do the inevitable.

You groaned under your breath and followed the signs that pointed to the bay, with your head on a swivel. Ironically you loved this meal but hated the smell of fish. You scrunched your nose as you got closer, merchants yelled for attention trying to sell their latest catch of fish, crabs, and other shellfish.

A woman caught your attention, she wore a simple brown gown with a red apron that used to be white. She had freshly caught and gutted salmon which was exactly what you needed. You approached her and asked for three filets, while you waited you glanced around the dock to watch the fishers pass you by. Just as the woman was about to wrap the fish in paper your skin prickled with goosebumps and you felt as though someone was watching you, you glanced around again to see if you could make them out.

"Y/N!"

No.... You thought.

Salvatore appeared from around the corner with that creepy grin that you were certain he thought was genuine. His hair was neater today, it was combed to one side and he had on a green button up with slick overalls that had the boots attached. He walked up to you and attempted to hug you but you quickly side stepped to avoid it. You didn't like to be touched in general, and definitely not by men. He pretended to look hurt but quickly changed it back to a smile.

"What brings you down here? Come to get some fish?" He asked excitedly.

"No, I came down here to see what fruits and vegetables I could find." You replied sarcastically.

He laughed louder than you would have liked, the woman motioned for you to take the fish; you took it and paid her the lei then wrapped the fish in the covering to keep it from leaking. You had hoped Salvatore would take that as his cue to leave, but he remained standing there. You strained your head to look behind him so any opening to escape.

"Well, since you're here, would you like to see my boat?" He offered.

"I can't, I'm afraid I need to get this fish on ice and be back at the manor before...2pm." You lied.

"Then, how about I accompany you?" He asked.

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to get distracted nor keep you from your duties. Have a good day." You replied as nicely as you could muster.

You tried to step around to walk away but he continued to walk next to you. He slipped his hands into his overall pockets, while strutting proudly.

"Nonsense, Sundays are my day off because my dad is gone all day in meetings with Mother Miranda."

You perked your head up. If his father was in the meeting, then he was with lord Beneviento. Maybe you could do some fishing of your own.

"Is that so? So your father is a lord too?" You asked curiously.

Salvatore smirked, "yeah. There are four lords around here that run the village like a city council. They make the judgment for any crimes, how to spend taxes, all that boring stuff." He sniffed and puffed out his chest, "I'll be taking over for my father when he steps down."

You refrained from rolling your eyes, "who are the other lords?"

"Well, there's my dad, Beneviento, Dimitrescu, and Heisenberg. Dimitrescu exports her family's wine and some other stuff I think. My father and I handle fishing and help out with the farming, while Heisenberg does all the carpentry and metal work for the village. I don't know what Beneviento does, no one has seen him so I think he just rides his father's legacy and that's why he remains a lord."

You stopped walking, "bold of you to talk about a lord like that. Especially one that I work for and you've never met." You snapped.

Salvatore raised his hands in defense. His toothy grin remained as he shook his head.

"I'm just saying."

You glared at him, "I think it's time we parted ways. I have to get back."

You started to walk away when he grabbed the arm that didn't have the basket attached to it. He swung you around to face him again. It took every muscle in your body not to smack him with the wrapped fish right then and there.

"Hey I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you mad. Let me make it up to you. The summer festival is this upcoming weekend, come with me. We can-"

You yanked your arm away and cut him off, "no. Now I need to get going. Angie is waiting for me."

As fast as your feet could carry you, you walked away from that man and back into the crowded village. After you deemed yourself far enough away you slowed your pace and relaxed a little, he really did give you the creeps. Just when you thought you wouldn't have to deal with unwanted attention here. The bell tower over the church rang four times. After you calmed you began to walk back to the manor when goosebumps crawled over your skin, that feeling of being watched returned. Maybe you should mention something to Angie; no, she'd just laugh at you and call you crazy.

Every step you would shoot a look over one shoulder. You couldn't shake the feeling of being prey stalked by a predator. Each time the grass or trees rustled you walked a little quicker until the manor came into view. You've never walked faster and slammed the door behind you.

Back in the safety of the manor you slumped the groceries on the counter and huffed, now that you were alone you started on dinner while cursing to yourself. Anger boiled underneath as your mind swam with the interaction with Salvator, he was just as bad as the men from where you came from. You trusted your gut, and your gut said he wasn't as nice as he came across. There was certainly something off about him.

Cooking relaxed your mind and you allowed yourself to fully dive into it. The salmon marinated in melted butter, soy sauce, and ginger while you sauteed mushrooms, bell pepper, and zucchini. The water boiled for rice and you added it in then turned down the heat and covered it to cook, just in time for you to cook the fish. While those are going, you thinly sliced the cucumber and pickled them with vinegar, lime, and salt.

Angie walked into the kitchen and eyed you, she sniffed the air curiously and hovered over your shoulder while you worked. She picked up an avocado from your cutting board and examined it like it was a foreign entity. After her examination she plopped it back down then rummaged through the rest of the groceries.

"Where did you get these things? I've never seen them in the village." She asked.

"The Duke. I asked if he had any and he did." You answered, "oh, and the leftover lei is on the counter."

Angie cocked her eyebrow at you, "are you feeling okay? You're not as sarcastic or groany as usual."

"Yeah just...how was your day with your girls?" You asked to change the subject.

Angie narrowed her eyes but shrugged it off, "good. Those girls sure are a handful but I love em dearly."

The two of you conversed in small talk while you finished dinner, Angie judged your cooking of course so you displayed it like a five star restaurant. Rice for the base, veggies next, then the salmon, with sliced avocado and ginger on top with the cucumber around the side. On cue the bell for the bedroom rang, you picked up the tray and carried it to the bedroom. You knelt down and knocked on the door then turned around back to the kitchen. You paused in the doorway and glanced over to see the door cracked open. It quickly shut before you could get a good look at whoever was behind it and sighed. Maybe it was rats eating the meals, but that wouldn't explain the dirty clothes, then again, the clothes you collected hardly looked dirty at all.

Maybe Angie was wrong, perhaps ghosts do eat and wear clothes to remind themselves of when they were living. The thought made you internally chuckle as you thought about ghosts trying to wear their human clothes and it goes right through. You and Angie ate in silence, when you were finished Angie offered to clean the dishes for once. It made you suspicious but decided to take the opportunity to go to bed early, a small coma sounded lovely about now. The refreshing water of the shower washed off the grossness of the day and having to be around people; the lord was onto something being a hermit. After you were clean and changed into some night clothes you crawled under the sheets of the bed and closed your eyes.

Sleep did not come to you though. You tossed and turned but your thoughts wouldn't settle. After much debate and staring at the ceiling for seemingly hours, you decided to walk around. You wandered around the top floor, glanced out the windows to watch the waterfall until the faintest noise came through that wasn't the white noise. It sounded like music. As you walked toward the elevator you could make out bits of it, you looked around and took the elevator down. If Angie caught you, you could say you were getting water, that's a reasonable excuse to be up at midnight.

You banged your hand on the side to open the doors, the music flowed through the corridors a bit clearer. You followed it until you stood down the hall from the workshop. The music was a piano, and it didn't have the static of a record which meant it was being played. As you approached closer you noticed the door was a ajar with a sliver of light beaming through. You tiptoed toward the door, the entire time you held your breath as if that would help you make any less noise. The music was somber but alluring, it couldn't be Angie which left one other suspect. You peeked through the door and your eyes widened at the sight of someone's back to you. They were dressed in all black with black hair tied into a bun. Their head was hung low and you couldn't make out anything else.

They played expertly, their fingers glided over the keys with ease and familiarity. As you leaned closer to try and get a better look you accidentally pushed the door which creaked open further. The person froze; you watched them stand and move out of sight then suddenly appear in front of you. Before you could look up at them the door slammed shut in front of your face. The sound of music was replaced with the hammering of your heart. You panted heavily as if you had just ran a marathon. The footsteps behind the door faded away, but then grew louder as they approached the door and you took off running to the safety of your room.

Once in your room you shut and locked the door then out of panic pushed the desk behind it. The lord was going to be so angry that you saw them, that you were snooping, and if they didn't, Angie certainly would. You paced around the room in panic, you should have ran for the front door. Instead you're trapped here, and you were going to have to face judgment.

Continue Reading

[dalishthunder]

WIP Whenever

Sorry been super burned out from work but hopefully this weekend fixes me :3

I tag @totally-not-deacon

“I think the lack of sunlight is starting to affect me.”

He tilted his head, “I’m afraid I do not understand.”

“We actually need sunlight to synthesize certain vitamins in our body. Lack of sunlight can severely impact us, but I didn’t realize it would happen so quickly.”

“Humans truly are fragile,” He hadn’t intended for it to come out so callously, but as you winced, smile faltering for just a second, he felt a pang of guilt.

“Y-yeah. Just a bit.” There was more that you had to say, but you chewed on your words for a moment before continuing, “And you’re probably not going to like this, but there are certain micronutrients that human bodies need that aren’t present in protein bars. Not- not that I’m complaining, I knew going into this that I probably wouldn’t be eating the same sort of prepared foods that I was before, but I think the lack of vegetables or even a multivitamin might be fucking with my system.”

“Oh,” He hadn’t thought about that.

“Even if we can’t get any vegetables, a multivitamin and water-soluble fiber should be okay.” You quickly added.

Just another way for Talon to figure out that you were human.

Not that he wasn’t already positive that they figured it out already. They weren’t exactly known for being dullards.

“If that is what you need.” He stated simply, and you seemed to relax as though you had been preparing for some sort of battle. “Add it to our requisition forms. I’m sure it will be the easiest of the items on there to procure.”

“Thank you.” You swallowed before letting out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of your head. “I don’t know why I thought this was going to be a more difficult conversation.”

Something in him sank at your words, “I am a reasonable omnic.”

You seemed to bite your tongue at that remark, and he bristled a bit.

“I am.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” You raised your hands placatingly, brows furrowing. “It’s just… sometimes you don’t like my ideas, and I was worried that this would be another one of those times.”

He did not ask for your ideas.

He did not ask for your assistance.

He did not ask you to join him.

He could do this alone.

He had been doing this alone for a long time.

Ramattra stared at you for a moment, processor picking through each of your interactions, and he begrudgingly had to admit that… you weren’t completely incorrect. Since you had chosen to join his cause, he had been… less than charitable when you shared your ideas.

… Your words were not without some truth.

A pregnant pause filled the room, and you cleared your throat awkwardly, “So, um, thanks. For hearing me out this time.”

He mulled on his words, picking over them, sorting the wheat from the chaff, and after another long moment he sighed, “You said when you had first joined, ‘Follow the money. Target them, and the people will begin to rise up.’ Tell me which of those so-called ‘Hard Targets’ you deem most worthy of death and I shall bring annihilation to them.”

A small compromise.