#I should go to sleep but the thought of going to lie in the dark and silence with THIS hell in my head makes me nauseated

[tarraxahum-ish]

one would think I'd be glad to be potentially offered my old job back in the midst of a crisis and having absolutely no job perspectives

but I've been crying (I'd say full on whailing) and trying very hard not to throw up for 6,5 hours now

and I'd very much like my fucking body/psyche/nerves/whoever the fuck is doing this TO STOP

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

Overprotective- Jacaerys Velaryon

A/N: My thoughts lie only on HOTD, and most of those thoughts are on this PRINCE. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 3.0k Synopsis: Jace's overprotective nature begins to grate on the reader's nerves as the birth of their first child looms closer.

Legend told that when in the womb, Targaryen babies started out as dragons before transforming into human children. It was nothing more than a silly folktale, your Targaryen family had assured you. But waking up in the dark of night, flinging the covers off of your scorching body, you aren't so sure.

Your nights had been spent like this for nearly two months now. If it wasn't the heat that coated your body, clinging sweat to your brow, it was waking up nearly ever hour to relieve yourself.

The child growing in your stomach was truly a Targaryen - passionate and unyielding.

The first four months of your pregnancy had been wonderful. You had none of the sickness that so many face in the early stages of their maternity. Back then you were often tired, but the child slept whenever you did. And to top it all off, Jace was a perfect husband. He brought you water when you needed it, rubbed your feet when they were aching, and then, you had wanted him constantly, and he had been more than happy to oblige.

But things change quickly during pregnancy, you are coming to understand. Jace wakes up next to you now, sitting up immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing," you say, turning to face him. Your bedroom is dark, but even so, you can see the worry in his eyes. "Just too hot."

"Can I do anything for you? Should I call the Maester?"

"No, I'm fine," you say, straining to get out of bed. He supports your back, giving you the extra push to get up. You hate that he has to do this, that he has to push on your sweat drenched back, in order for you to stand.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"To relieve myself."

"You just got up--"

"I know, Jacaerys," you snap, holding your stomach as you leave the room.

Jace had been wonderful those first few months, when you had been in high spirits. But now, you were in pain constantly, which made you irritable, which made any attempt he made to help you irksome.

When you came back into the room, Jace is still up, his head resting on his pillow. He lifts it a little when you come back in, smiling at you gently. The sheets have been changed - another new routine - but one that doesn't bother you so much. It made a world of difference to lay down in a cool, clean bed after waking in a pool of your own sweat.

"All right?" he asks as you lay down beside him.

"Yes."

"Sure?"

"Yes, why?" you ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Because you called me Jacaerys," he says, brushing a stray hair off your brow. "You only do that when you're mad at me." You let out a breath of laughter, but immediately feel like the emotion could change into a sob. Jace must see it, too, because he scoots closer, pulling you into his bare arms.

"Hey," he says, kissing your forehead, "You can call me Jacaerys whenever you like."

"I'm not mad at you," you say, turning into him, so your growing stomach presses into his. "There's just this monster inside of me making me go mad." Jace smiles to himself, nodding his head.

"I know."

"I love you," you say, a hand to his cheek. He leans in to kiss you, his lips cool. When you break apart, you realize the windows are wide open, and while you've been sweating all night, he has to be freezing. You start to say something about it, but he cuts you off.

"I'm fine," he says. "I love you. Please just try to get some sleep."

"Get off me, then," you say, pushing him playfully. He smirks, falling back over to his side, taking your share of the blankets, as well. You lay on your back, and can't help the groan of pain at the pressure the position puts on you. Jace immediately reaches for your hand.

"Jacaerys," you say, squeezing his palm once. He laughs.

"Good night, Y/N."

"Goodnight."

At seven months pregnant, the burning has finally stopped, but you feel weaker still. Every movement puts pain on your back, your shoulders, your feet. You and Jace speak a language that is mostly moans and groans, and not the kind that used to be typical for the two of you.

One morning, when Jace is away at Driftmark, Rhaenyra joins you for breakfast. At the sight of your sovereign, you try to stand, which makes Rhaenyra laugh.

"Don't trouble yourself, Y/N," she says, walking towards you. "I remember when I was your size. Took me all morning just to get out of bed." You give her a tight lipped smile, settling back into the comfy position you had arranged for yourself.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"How are you feeling?" she asks, pouring herself a cup of tea. She motions to you, but you decline with a shake of your head.

"I'm alright."

"Is she kicking?" she asks, nodding to the hand on your belly.

"Only when I'm trying to sleep," you say with a laugh. "You agree with Jace, then? You think it'll be a girl?"

"The way you're carrying, yes, but one never really can tell. What are you hoping for?" she asks.

"For these next months to pass quickly," you say, straining when a nerve pinches in your side. You adjust your position, and find that Rhaenyra is looking at you with a small, understanding smile. "And of course, for a healthy baby."

"Of course."

"I don't know how you've done this so many times," you say. "Does it get any easier?"

"No," she says simply. You sigh, which makes her smile grow. "How has Jace been?" she asks.

"Very protective," you say, smiling. "Maybe too much so. I feel like if I just breathe wrong he's on alert, worried something has happened." A strange expression passes over Rhaenyra's face - equal parts pride and sorrow.

"I'm afraid Jacaerys has seen more than his fair share of pregnancies gone wrong," she says gently.

"I'm sorry, I know," you say, embarrassment passing through you.

"That's not to say that he isn't overbearing," she adds with a smile. "He's much like his father that way."

"Really?"

"He couldn't always be there," she says, "But when he was, he made up for the time apart with his watch over me." You smile at her as the door opens across the room, and Jace enters.

"You're back early," Rhaenyra says, lifting an eyebrow at him. He smells salty when he leans down to kiss you. He smiles at you, then looks to his mother.

"Thought I might join you for breakfast," he says, sitting next to you. "Besides, I was needed here more than at Driftmark." You exchange a look with Rhaenyra.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asks you.

"Just fine, Jacaerys," you say, patting his cheek. "You didn't need to cut your visit short."

"Well, there is something I need to do here nonetheless."

"What's that?" you ask.

"It seems Syrax has laid another clutch of eggs. Joff and I are going to retrieve them, and the younger boys are going to help us pick one for the babe," he says, a hand on your stomach. You smile at him, at the gentle caress of his hand. You know he comes from a place of love with his attention.

"Do you want to join us?" he asks.

"I doubt I could make it downstairs, much less down to the Dragonpit."

"We could bring them to you," he says.

"No," you say, "Decide with your brothers. Just pick out a good one." He nods to you, leaning in to kiss your temple.

At the end of breakfast, Jace goes off to the Dragonpit, but only at your insistence. He wanted to walk you back to your chambers, but Rhaenyra assured him she was more than up to the task. Once he was out of sight, she laughed to herself.

"I see what you mean," she says.

Jace returns to your room that night with a shiny, white dragon egg.

Jace's lips are soft on yours. At eight months pregnant, finding moments with him is getting harder every day. He lies next to you, a hand on your stomach, the other cradling the back of your head.

"Y/N," he hums, each word spoken onto your lips, "I want you." You make a sound in your throat, both in agreement and in discomfort. It has been too long since the two of you have been intimate.

"I'm huge," you say.

"You're not and I don't care," he says, his mouth moving across your jaw.

"The last time we did this," you breathe, arching into him when he nips at your earlobe, "We had to stop because you worried you'd hurt the baby."

"I promise I'll relax this time," he says.

"How could you even get to me?" you ask with a laugh. Jace smiles at you as his hand moves from your stomach to your hip, turning you onto your side easily. He presses up behind you, kissing along your neck.

You sigh, relaxing into him. His hand pulls up the skirt of your nightgown, exposing your legs to the cool night air. It has been so long that you know you're ready for him immediately.

"Just tell me if I'm hurting you," he says. You groan, putting a hand to his face to stop him from kissing you more. "Y/N."

"Jace." You scoot away from him, turning slowly to face him.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he says with a sigh.

"How many times have you fucked me in that same position?" you ask. Jace frowns, frustration evident on his face. "Have you ever hurt me?"

"No, but things are different," he says. "What's the harm in asking if you feel okay?"

"It doesn't make me feel desirable," you say, looking up at the ceiling, stupid, frustrating tears forming in your eyes again. Jace sighs and moves to your side, propping himself up on an elbow so you have to look at him.

"Y/N," he says gently. "Of course you are desirable. You are still the most beautiful, incredible woman I know. And it's because you are so incredible that I want to make sure that I don't do anything that puts you in more pain than I know you are already in."

"I promise I will tell you if I am hurting, okay? You don't have to coddle me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you say, hand on his cheek to bring his lips to yours. "I'm the bitch for complaining about her kind husband." He laughs and kisses your palm.

"You're not a bitch," he says. You kiss him again. "Now please roll onto your side and let me fuck you." You laugh, doing as he says.

"Of course, My Prince."

Jace is at Dragonstone Castle when you go into labor. He has been anxious for the last month, knowing that any day the baby could arrive. He intended to postpone this meeting with the great houses, but you assured him that the babe would not come today. The only thing that kept him to his promise was the fact that Vermax could bring him back to the Red Keep quickly.

When Joffrey bursts into the room, Jace is immediately on his feet, already fearing the worst.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Y/N has gone into labor."

Jace barely spares a glance at the lords around the table. He urges Joffrey along. His brother had the foresight to request that Vermax be readied for when they arrived upon the shore.

The ride is quick, as he knew it would be, but he still urges Vermax along, wanting and needing to be close to you as soon as he can.

When he gets to the Red Keep, he runs up to your chambers, intending to throw them open and run to your side. Instead, he finds that they are locked. He can hear soft discussion, encouragements, but the loudest sound coming through the door is your screaming.

Joffrey followed him to the door and carefully peels him away. "She's alright," he insists. Jace won't be able to agree until he can see you himself.

Together, they sit outside your door for the next three hours. Joffrey doesn't say much, but when your screaming gets louder, or there seems to be a rise in urgency to the voices inside, he puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

It seems like ages have passed when the doors finally open.

He doesn't wait to hear what the Maester has to say. He rushes into the room, his eyes going immediately to your bed. Midwives quickly take away bloodied sheets, and when they clear, he sees you. You are drenched in sweat, your hair matted all around you, and he's not sure he's ever seen you look more beautiful.

"Y/N," he says, as if he's looking upon the gods themselves. You look up at him, your face breaking into a smile. He rushes to your side.

"Are you okay?" he asks, taking your face in his hands.

"I'm okay," you say, laying a hand over his. He laughs. It's a result of the built up tension from the hallway, and he can't stop himself. He laughs as he kisses you, over and over. You laugh, too, and he tastes the salt of your tears on your lips.

"What is it?" he asks, quickly studying your face.

"Don't you want to meet him?" you ask.

"Him?" Jace's face falls in awe.

"Him," you say. You look towards one of the midwives and they bring over the smallest bundle Jace has ever seen. He sinks onto the bed beside you as the babe is placed in his arms.

"Hello," he says quietly. You lean onto his shoulder, looking down at your son with a smile on your face.

"Isn't he beautiful?" you ask, your voice a whisper.

"Yes," he says, his heart still thundering from the surprise. "What have you called him?" he asks.

"I assumed we'd discuss that together," you say, "But I was thinking Lucerys, if that'd be alright." Jace has tears of his own in his eyes. He bites back his smile, unable to put into words what the name means to him, what you mean to him. He nods his head.

"Does that sound good to you, Lucerys?" you ask, your finger touching the blanket over the baby's stomach. He starts to move around, crying out just a little. Like you've done it a million times before, you take Lucerys into your arms and shush him gently.

Jace kisses your temple repeatedly, until you laugh. You turn towards him and kiss him fully, passionately.

"I love you so much," he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"I love you, too."

You stay in that position for an hour or so, Jace holding you, and you holding Lucerys. Joffrey is the first to meet the future heir to the throne, and he kisses you on the cheek when he learns his nephew's name.

When his mother enters the room, Jace doesn't stand, wanting to keep you in his arms forever. She is all smiles as she leans over your opposite shoulder. You sit up slowly, and Jace's arm around you helps guide you upright.

"Hello, little one," Rhaenyra says, taking the child into her arms. You sigh happily, watching her interact with him. Jace can't keep from kissing your face a few more times. He doesn't think he has ever been this in love with you.

"And what is the name of our little prince?" Rhaenyra asks, looking between the two of you. Jace looks down at you, but you nod your head to him.

"We've decided to name him Lucerys," he says simply. Rhaenyra's expression changes immediately, her eyes welling up with tears of her own. Holding Lucerys in one arm, she leans down to kiss you both.

"A fine name," she says through tears. "You did well," she says, looking at you. You smile back, tears forming again in your own.

After a few moments in her arms, she hands your son back to you, and departs, letting the two of you get acquainted to your new family. Neither of you say much. You just watch Lucerys with rapt attention, counting his fingers, and touching his soft patch of hair.

"He's so beautiful," you say quietly.

"He is."

"I don't think I'm ever going to let him out of my sight," you say, looking up at Jace with a smile. He smiles back, but notices the exhaustion on your face.

"Maybe you can for a little while," he says, "Just to get some rest."

"Still so overprotective," you say with a smirk.

"I've got two to protect now," he says, "So if you could just once let me take care of you without arguing--" You cut him off with a kiss.

"I'll try," you say. "But don't either of you leave this room."

"I don't think you could kick us out if you wanted to."

Jace stands with his son in his arms, watching as you lay down. The midwives come back in to check on you and Lucerys, before leaving the three of you alone for the time.

"It's okay, Y/N," he says lowly, when you still haven't shut your eyes, your gaze locked on the two of them. "We'll be here."

"Promise?"

"I swear it," he says, giving you an easy smile. He watches you close your eyes, and in a few moments, your breath falls into an easy rhythm, just like Lucerys's.

Jace looks down at his son. He doesn't want to disturb his sleep, but he wants to tell him, here and now, that he'll always be overprotective. So he makes the vow to himself, just like the one he made when he married you. He is always going to protect the people he loves, even if it sometimes drives them mad.

[coolemmasulivan2]

Back on Track

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: After a fight with Lando, you’re nowhere to be found when he leaves for Austin, making him fear the relationship is over. But when you arrive at the track with Max, he gets a second chance to make things right, and the two of you reconcile.

Word count: 2061

Even though we're going through it And it makes you feel alone Just know that I would die for you Baby, I would die for you, yeah

You and Lando rarely fought. You’d been together since his final season in Formula 2, a bloody long time, and you could count the big fights on one hand. But this one was different. This was the worst of them all.

It was his last day at home before flying to Austin, and somehow everything went down.

"You're being clingy!" He shouted, running a hand through his messy curls, frustration etched on his face.

You stared at him, stunned. "I’m being clingy? Me? Lando, we’ve been together for years, and I have never asked you for anything. The one time I do, and this is what you say? Wow."

"Yeah, well, you’ve never acted like this before!" His face hardened, eyes sparking with irritation you weren’t used to. "Seriously, if you suddenly want some boyfriend who’ll sit around every night, watching dumb TV shows and cuddling you to sleep, maybe you should find someone else."

You shook your head, disbelief morphing into something different, something more hurt. "Maybe I should do that!"

He was beyond pissed. "Then please, do! I'm going out and I'll do the same." He turned, grabbing his jacket without a second glance. and strode out, slamming the door shut behind him.

You flinched at the echo, the silence crashing down around you as tears started to well up. "I hate you, Lando Norris." You whispered into the emptiness of the apartment.

Lando sat in the VIP section of his favorite Monaco club, gazing blankly over the crowded dance floor. The music pulsed, people laughed and danced, but his thoughts were miles away, thinking of you.

Max leaned in, breaking Lando’s trance. "Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?" Lando shrugged. "Was it that bad?"

Lando sighed, his gaze distant. "It was! It was the worst fight we’ve ever had." He swallowed, the words bitter. "She probably thinks I’m cheating on her right now."

Max’s eyebrows shot up. "What are you talking about? Why would she think that?"

"Because, I pretty much said that." Lando muttered lound enough for Max to hear over the music.

Max looked at him, incredulous. "Why the hell would you say that, you absolute idiot? You love her."

Lando exhaled heavily. "I was angry! I didn’t even think. I just… said it. I realized how bad it sounded the second I left."

Max shook his head, staring at him with a mix of pity and frustration. "Well, congratulations: you’re an idiot!"

"Thanks for the information."

It was late when Lando finally got home. The apartment was dark, and silence filled the rooms. He stepped into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, his mind caught between whether he should crash on the sofa or swallow his pride, apologize, and lie beside you.

He waked to the closed bedroom door, standing there for a long moment, nerves filling his body. His hand hovered over the doorknob, but he stopped himself. He stepped back and with the sting of guilt he fell down on the sofa.

You were deep asleep when a hand shook your shoulder. Groggily, you opened your eyes to see your best friend sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes barely open, hair rumpled from sleep.

"What?"

She yawned, rubbing her eyes before looking at you. "Your phone won’t stop ringing."

Blinking, you glanced at the empty nightstand, remembering you’d left your phone in the living room. "What time is it?" You muttered. "It’s probably Lando. We were supposed to leave for Austin early."

She groaned, pulling a pillow over her head and laying down next to you. "Then answer it or turn it off. It’s too early for this, and I’m exhausted."

"She rejected my call!" Lando exclaimed, pacing back and forth in the apartment.

Max raised an eyebrow. "That’s good news."

"How is that good?"

"At least we know she’s okay." He said. "And still mad at you, which is probably deserved."

"I don’t even know if she was still here when I got home last night. The bedroom door was closed, and I just… crashed on the sofa. I only realized she was gone this morning."

Max nodded thoughtfully. "So, what’s the plan now?"

“I don’t know,” Lando groaned, slumping into a chair, rubbing his hands over his face. "The team’s going to kill me if I miss this flight."

"So go!" Max said firmly.

Lando looked up, shaking his head. "No way. I’m not leaving without her."

Max rolled his eyes. "Look, she knows you have to leave, Lando. Sooner or later, she’s coming back, and when she does, I’ll bring her to Austin myself. Just go."

"What if she refuses to go?"

"She loves you. She'll want t make things right. Trust me!"

Lando hesitated. "You promise?"

"I promise."

You slipped into the apartment two hours later, knowing Lando would be gone by now. The silence felt heavy as you shut the door, but before you could make it to the kitchen, Max appeared, stepping out from Lando’s streaming room.

You jumped, clutching your chest. "Max! What the hell? You scared me!"

"Sorry!" He said, raising his hands in apology.

"What are you doing here? Is Lando still here?" You glanced around, half expecting him to walk out from somewhere.

"He left. Had to, or he’d have missed his flight."

You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and taking a long sip. "I thought you were going with him."

"I am. I was just waiting for you."

You looked at him, understanding dawning slowly. "Max, I don’t think going with you is a good idea." You sank into a chair at the small dining table, and Max sat across from you.

"That’s not true."

"Max, you don’t know how he treated me, the things he said…" You swallowed, voice shaking. "He told me I should find someone else. And said he would, too."

Max leaned forward, shaking his head. "Look, he was furious and stupid. Belive me, I know what he said, and he regrets every word. He didn’t even want to leave. I practically had to drag him onto the helicopter."

Tears pricked at your eyes. "Max, I don't know."

"He’s an idiot, but he’s an idiot in love with you. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone, Y/N. He’s been calling you non-stop, hoping you’d pick up, and he’s completely torn up about it. So please, come with me. Let’s go to Austin."

Lando had been unusually quiet all day. Practice had gone well, but not well enough; the Ferraris were ahead, and so was Verstappen. His mind should’ve been on the upcoming sprint qualifying, but all he could think about was you and the fight. He could only hope that Max was somehow convincing you to come to Austin.

"Everything alright? You’ve been quiet, which is… not like you." Oscar asked, glancing over at Lando as they wrapped up filming a video for McLaren’s social media.

"Just tired." Lando muttered.

Oscar hesitated, then asked gently. "Where’s Y/N? Lily told me she was coming."

Lando’s jaw tensed, his eyes flicking up to meet Oscar’s. "I… don’t think she’s coming." He admitted, his voice low. "I messed things up pretty badly."

Oscar raised his eyebrows. "Want to talk about it?"

Lando shook his head, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Not really. Just… hoping I haven’t lost her." He said, more to himself than to Oscar.

Lando was suiting up, pulling on his gloves and securing his helmet, trying to lock his focus onto the upcoming sprint qualifying. But the knot of anxiety in his stomach hadn’t eased since he arrived, knowing he might have to go through this entire weekend without you there.

Just then, Max appeared in front of him, grinning. "Hey, mate. Just came by to wish you luck. And, by the way…" Max lowered his voice, glancing over his shoulder. "She’s here."

"Fuck... thank you for bringing her."

There, standing quietly near the corner, arms crossed and headphones on, was you. You looked a little nervous, a shy expression on your face and when your eyes met, you quickly looked away.

A wave of relief fell over him, and he instinctively took a step forward, desperate to close the space between you. But Max put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

"Not now." Max warned. "You’ve got a sprint to think about. You can talk to her after."

"But—" Lando began, his eyes darting back to you, a urge to apologize.

A couple of mechanics also intercepted him, nudging him toward the car with hurried reminders. "We’re starting in a few, Lando."

Lando clenched his jaw, glancing back at you. Taking a deep breath, Lando slipped into the car, his heart beating a little steadier, his mind clearing. For the first time all day, he felt ready. You were here and that was everything.

You watched the qualifying from the garage, heart pounding with every lap. It was always like this: nerve-wracking, pride and fear as you watched him push himself and the car to the limit. But today, your chest felt even tighter, knowing the tension lingering between you.

When the session ended, Lando finished fourth. Relief mixed with a bit of pride washed over you as you clapped, your gaze fixed on him as he came into the garage.

The moment he spotted you, he didn’t hesitate. He strode over and without a word, he reached for your hand, gently but firmly, and led you out of the garage toward his driver’s room, ignoring the curious glances around you.

Once inside, he closed the door. "Y/N… Babe, I’m so sorry."

You looked down, your arms wrapping around yourself. "You hurt me, Lando. You didn’t just walk away, you made me feel like I was… too much."

He stepped closer, reaching for your hand again. "I was an idiot. I don’t even know why I said those things. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. None of it was true. You’re not ‘too much.’ You’re… everything to me."

"I thought you didn’t want me anymore."

He swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. "That could never be true. I can’t imagine any of this, my life, racing, anything, without you." He brushed a stray tear from your cheek. "I was terrified you wouldn’t come. That I’d ruined everything."

You took a shaky breath. "Max convinced me… told me you didn’t want to leave, that you were just… scared of losing me."

"More than you know." He said, his hand holding yours firmly. "Please forgive me, Y/N. I’ll spend as long as it takes making it up to you."

"I don't want you to give up anything, Lando."

"I know. I know. That's not what you asked me."

After a long moment, you squeezed his hand. "I’m here now." You said softly. "Let’s just start with that."

Relief flooded his face as he wrapped you in his arms, holding you close, as if he never wanted to let go. "I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m grateful you’re here. I don’t want to mess this up ever again."

You gave him a gentle smile, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "I didn’t come all this way to hold onto what happened. Let’s just… move forward. Together."

He smiled. "Together."

A knock on the door interrupted the moment. "Lando?" A team member called from the hallway. "They need you back in the garage in five!"

Lando glanced back toward the door, then returned his gaze to you, clearly torn. "Go!" You murmured. "I’ll be here when you’re done. I’m not going anywhere."

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. You melted into it, letting the last of the hurt dissolve in his warmth.

When he pulled back, he looked at you with a smile . "I’ll be quick." He said, squeezing your hand before reluctantly letting it go and heading toward the door. Just as he opened it, he paused, glancing over his shoulder one last time. "I love you."

"I love you too." You whispered.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello, Congratulations on the 5k follows!!

I discovered this fandom a few months ago and have been living for your writing ever since.

I was thinking as a drabble of the taskforce gentlemen coming home at the crack of dawn from a long mission and seeing their spouse's hand, limp on the ground peeking out from the side of the couch. All the panic and worry going thru their heads, so much bubbling up, horrible scenarios. They rush over and find you sleeping on the floor. The power had gone out last night and the hardwood floor was the coolest place to be (you didn't want to open the window because you know how they worry), so you were watching stuff on your phone and drifted off. Crisis averted!

Thank you for your time 💜

—Wide-Eyed Panic

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Why were you behind the couch?] ❞

I’ll start by saying all of them would be concerned and immediately go into panic mode—why were you behind the couch? Why was your hand sticking out? Why, in God's name, were you not moving? Cue the horrible thoughts and flashes of what went on in their work lives.

John Price ➺

John entered the house with a sigh, slipping off his boots as the door was closed and deftly locked behind him. Grunting under his breath, the man rubs over his face, the lights off as he calls out with a tired grumble to his voice. 

“I’m back,” his voice echoes, the tone moving through the darkness far louder than it should have. There’s no answer. “Love…?” Pausing, John blinks slowly at the wall, ear twitching to the utter silence of the home. No water in the pipes. No buzzing of electricity. No you. Eyes rising, they dart around quickly as his finger moves out to the light switch. A small push elicits nothing, just as he thought. The power was out. 

Dread slowly creeps into John’s chest.

Hand reaching behind his back, the man’s fingers inch over the smooth metal of a pistol, grasping the weapon before he begins walking forward. He keeps silent, feet moving to where he knows the wood won't creak. 

His mind runs. 

Why was the power off? Where were you? Why didn’t you respond—were you hurt? John’s mind goes to blood and bullets, his jaw clenching tightly as the pistol comes out to rest in front of him; hands shifting the grip as he takes a soothing breath. Panicking wouldn’t help anyone, but it would be pointless to lie about how his heart hammers. 

“Fuck,” he growls, eyes going tight. 

That’s when he sees it. Blue eyes widen sharply. 

“Love!” John shouts, all other concerns about intruders meaningless to him. Your hand was sticking out from behind the couch, a dark shadow in the low light. He rushes over as you jerk, yelling in alarm as he rushes to grab you, pulling you up into his arms and pulling you away into the closet across the room.

“John!” You blink rapidly as you’re set back against the wall. 

“Shush now,” he grunts, eyes panicked. “Keep awake, let me look.” A hand moves all over your body, searching and pulling at clothes to touch the skin for any wounds. “Tell me where it hurts, then. Quickly. We have to move—”

“John, what the hell,” you push at him, moving him back. Your eyes try to adjust to being so rudely awakened at such an hour. “What are you doing?!”

You weren’t hurt. 

The Captain’s face pulls in with confusion, back against the closet door and now in more darkness than ever before. He can barely make out your face before you sigh and put your hands against his arms. 

Things begin to calm down as his hand rests at your hip, nearly tight enough to bruise. In his other is the gun just before you put your hand to it and softly peel the item away from him—putting it on the shelf that you know is to your left. 

Hands find John’s cheeks as he pants.

“John,” you say his name again. “...what happened.”

“Why were you on the ground?” He forces out firmly, voice a low grunt. “Why were the lights not—”

“The power went out for everyone, okay?” You speak slowly, rubbing your thumbs over his beard. “It was on the news. I didn’t open a window because I knew you would worry about that—the floor was cool and it was getting too hot in here.” 

Your mind tells you to explain quickly and fluently. You move forward and press your forehead into John’s as he sags with a great exhalation of breath—his arms circling you tightly until your spine might crack. 

He doesn’t speak for a long while, just holding you.

“Scared me,” he mutters, missing you deeply on the forehead, speaking into your skin. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

He keeps you to his chest, eyes fluttering shut and his spine hunching over you, fingers splayed over your back. You run your hands through his hair and calm the swelling of your heart.

You can feel his pulse mirroring your own.

Simon Riley ➺

When he sees your hand, he freezes. 

Simon wasn’t a stranger to the lights being off in the home—you opted for lamps and low light more often than not; this wasn’t new. He had only quirked a brow when he came home to the pitch-blackness, off from his recent deployment and eager for a warm bed to fall into. He admits he’d let himself calm down on the car ride home—your home was where he could relax and release tension until it became as unimportant as an ant on the pavement. 

But when he’d closed the door silently behind him and walked the few steps it would take to enter the living room, where he was sure you were still up either reading or watching something on your phone under a blanket, his body had stiffened immediately. 

Your hand sticking out from behind the couch. Limp. 

Lifeless.  

He’d been staring at it for only a few seconds before the memories came back—the ones of gore splattered to the walls and ceiling of an old flat back in Manchester. 

Simon’s thoughts had hit him like a bullet.

Not again.

Rushing forward like a bear, the man slips along the hardwood as his knees go down, shaking the home at the force at which he grabs at your body and flips you from your side to your back. 

You gasp awake and instinctually throw out a fist, connecting with a stone chest as you hiss and blink in panic. 

Fingers ruthlessly dig into your shoulders, wide brown eyes open, and…and afraid. 

“Simon?” You mutter softly, all fear in your heart is squished in an instant. 

The man breathes through wheezes, balaclava fabric moving from the force of his breaths. His fingers are shaking, blinking as his head jerks to look your lying form up and down swiftly. 

You hesitantly put a hand on his cheek and he flinches before nuzzling into it. 

“Don’t…” he takes a quivering breath into his lungs, and after, loosens his grip on your skin. Simon’s hands go to your waist, dragging you up and stapling you to his chest. “Don’t do that again.”

His voice is low. Vulnerable. 

You blink, hands holding him back on the floor. 

“...The power went out,” you try to explain only half of it softly, muffled by his neck. 

He only holds you harder, eyes open and blankly staring at the floor a foot away.

Johnny MacTavish ➺

Johnny hums a song under his breath, hanging his keys on the hook near the door.

“Dearie!” He calls to you loudly, itching at the side of his head and chuckling. “Don’t run too fast to me now, I’m all yours for two w—”

The light switch is moved by his finger, but no light illuminates his path to the living room. Pausing in the entrance, the man’s brows furrow tightly, speech cutting off like scissors to paper. 

“...eeks?” Johnny ends his sentence, turning back around to look at the switch in confusion. “The hell’s going on with that?” He mutters to himself, a frown growing on his face before he refocuses on his mission to find you—now with the added task of figuring out why the power was out in the house. 

“Swear,” the man grumbles, huffing while he runs a hand over his face, “if those kids down the street did something I’ll be livid. Little devils, I swear.” 

Johnny steps farther into the living room, glancing around. 

“Dearie?” He pauses, listening before calling out your name. “Where’s she off to?”

He sighs softly, wanting to hold you now that he’s home to do so—squeeze you in his arms and take in your scent again; he’d missed you immensely while he was away.

Johnny came across your hand sticking out from behind the couch by accident, moving to make his way into your bedroom thinking that you were sleeping. He sees an odd shape in the blackness and pauses, feet slowing to a stop. 

When he notices that it’s a hand—your hand, he doesn’t even realize that he’s completely gripped the side of the couch and wrenched it back until the scratch of the wood floors screams in his ears. 

You wake up to hands on your cheeks, sharp yelling, and your head being shaken up and down until you’re conscious. 

“Dearie, hey! What the fuck,” the last sentence is growled on fast lips. “What the fuck.”

Your hands slap to Johnny’s wrists, nails digging in. 

He breathes out quickly, looking into your eyes to look for dilation as the darkness forces him closer. “There we are, tell me where you’re hurting, now, yeah? Did you hit your head? Let me take a look. It’s okay, I’ll get you all fixed up, there’s no need to worry.”

“Hey!” Your hands push at his, trying to shove the brick wall away from you. “Quit it! Johnny! I’m fine! ”

The man pauses at your animated movements, blinking rapidly before his grip loosens. 

When it’s obvious that you’re perfectly fine, he moves back and groans, thumb and forefinger digging into his nose bridge. 

“Hell’s bells, Hen.” You glare, panting on the floor before you push yourself up. 

“‘Hell’s bells’, me?” Johnny’s head plops to your shoulder. “You just shook me like a fucking rabbit!” 

“Scared the shite out of me, you terror.” The man huffs. “Need to put a heart monitor on you.”

“Piss off,” you sigh, putting a hand to your chest to feel the pace of your pulse and the blood that runs furiously.

Johnny, moments later as he’s still resting on your shoulder, starts…laughing. Low at first, then gaining noise the more it goes unchecked—a deep rumble into chest-jerking amusement. You look down at him, the couch tilted and long scratches over the floor. Pausing, you blink at his shaking shadow before your lungs start quivering. The two of you bend over one another with shared, house-shaking laughter. 

“What the fuck were you doin’ behind the damn couch?” Johnny grabs you close, kissing along your neck as he picks you up, dragging you to your feet. 

“The power went out!” You giggle, chest hurting from the fast gasps of breath as more kisses are spread over your skin. “It was colder down there and I didn’t want to open one of the windows because I knew you’d throw a pouting match about it.”

“Christ, Dearie.” Lips meet your own. “I had half the mind to think you had a heart attack. Nearly gave me one.”

Kyle Garrick ➺

Kyle sighs as he rubs at his jaw, itching the skin and slipping out of his jacket. 

“I’m home, Love!” He says, his voice echoing over the flat. “Want me to start on supper or have you eaten yet?” The man smiles, taking off his cap and putting it on the coat rack, sighing softly. 

It was good to be back. 

Bending down to unlace his boots, he pulls at them until they’re loose enough to slip out of, thumping to their sides on the rug until he reaches out and fixes them. 

“What’s that, then?” He calls into the darkness, not hearing your answer as he quickly checks the time on his phone. “Fuck, it’s late,” Kyle utters to himself. 

Walking into the kitchen, he touches the light switch only to be met with nothing. Pausing, the man’s face pulls in—fingers twitching at his sides as he glances at the window and the moonlight that seeps in to glare along the floor. 

A deep frown takes hold of him, and he looks around once more before backing up.

“...Love?” Kyle wasn’t too concerned—the building wasn’t always the best, and power outages weren’t unheard of. But, damn, if the high of getting off of a deployment didn’t put him in a negative head-space when it came to a change in routine involving you. 

Why weren’t you answering him?

Walking slightly faster into the living room, his hand nearly reaches into his pocket to call your phone if you didn’t end up in any of the rooms—pulse beginning to be infected with a steady injection of adrenaline. 

Brown eyes find your hand behind the couch when they’re about to shift to the open door of your bedroom. A sharp gasp is inhaled instantaneously. 

Kyle races over, grappling to it and pressing his fingers to your neck for a pulse. You softly breathe, none the wiser as you lightly shift and sigh in your sleep; a delicate hum moving out as familiar fingers dig into you. 

It’s through his panic that a thought quickly cuts through the man’s mind. You’d mentioned this before. 

Kyle pauses, just about to loudly wake you. 

‘It gets hot when the power goes out, Kyle, I swear one of these days I’m going to just fall asleep on the floor. At least it’s cool down there.’

Well, the power was out, and, it seemed, you really had fallen asleep on the floor. Now that he thought about it, the flat was running hot—and he also knew that you knew he had gotten nervous of late when you left the windows open at night. 

“Bloody hell,” the man releases a long breath, free hand moving to grip the back of his head. A few seconds later, Kyle chuckles to himself, shaking his head with a small smile. “You are losing it, Mate. Losing it.” 

Without another word, he grips you, and with a grunt, picks you up and takes you to bed, setting you down on the pillows and making sure to leave the sheets off of you so you don’t grow uncomfortable.

A kiss is pressed to your forehead, and you hum in slumber, smiling unconsciously.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Love.” 

He leaves to go make a quick supper of cereal and milk.

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 6. the fight

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Word of Joel's indiscretion spreads quickly through town, leading to a vicious fight. When Joel begins to worry you may never forgive him, he sets into motion a plan to win you back.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, previous infidelity mentioned, violence (fist fight), blood, bruises, jealousy/possessiveness

WC: 8K

Series Masterlist

The thought of leaving your bed was excruciating.

For nearly three days, you could hardly do much more than use the bathroom and drink some water. When you heard Joel leave for patrol, his footsteps always pausing hesitantly on the other side of your door before begrudgingly going down the steps, you would eventually drag yourself downstairs and force yourself to eat something. Anything. It didn't really matter. You didn't crave anything. Didn't look forward to a single thing except the sweet embrace of sleep. But by the fourth day, you knew you would have to go back to work or else Nick would make a house call to check on you.

You had lied and said you hurt your back so you could get out of working for a few days, but enough time had passed, enough tears were shed, enough pity was wasted when you finally forced yourself to get up one morning and take a shower.

It helped more than you thought it would. The steam billowing around you in the confined space, the warm water pummeling your shoulders, working out the kinks in your muscles from too many hours hunched over in agony. If you had any self-awareness, you might have asked yourself why you had such a powerful reaction to Joel kissing someone else. If you had a clear enough mind, you might have remembered you didn't even react this badly when you woke from your accident only to discover your whole family was dead and the world went to hell.

No, you only seemed to fall into a deep depression over Joel finding comfort from another woman.

And not just any woman. Angie.

It still made your blood boil as you slipped on clean clothes for work. You should have known she was a shark, smelling blood in the water that very first night when she cornered you in the bathroom.

And to make matters worse, he had the audacity to accuse you of not caring. Not giving a shit about him, to be exact.

That fucking asshole.

When you came down the stairs and spotted the coffee maker still on with your favorite mug next to the carafe, you scoffed and kept walking to grab your coat. As much as you wanted some coffee, you were too stubborn to accept Joel's shitty gesture.

The winter sun was blinding against the snow. Or maybe your eyes were just too swollen and dry, too accustomed to staying in the darkness of your bedroom for days on end, but whatever it was caused you to wince and rub your face.

"Hey! You're alive!" you heard Ellie's voice call out from the driveway. She was walking up the path at the exact same time as you with her backpack slung over one shoulder and her winter jacket unzipped.

"Yeah, barely," you replied, wishing you had some of the coffee Joel had left behind. You took the porch steps carefully and met her out on the sidewalk, your pupils finally adjusting to the brightness. "How's it going, kid?"

She opened her mouth to reply but paused, giving you a funny look.

"What's wrong?" you asked, unable to read her expression.

"Nothing, just that nickname... took me by surprise," she laughed with a shake of her head, "you used to call me that before. Haven't heard it in a long time, I guess." You shielded your eyes and shrugged.

"Common nickname, I suppose," you reasoned, and she nodded in agreement.

"How's the back?" she asked with a point, and you almost had to ask her what she was talking about before you remembered your lie.

"Oh! Much better, thanks. Must've pulled a muscle or something, who knows."

"Well, that's good. Listen, I gotta get to school, but do you wanna get dinner later with me and Dina? Seth's making mac and cheese, and it's like, the fucking best, dude," she said excitedly, and you didn't have the heart to say no.

"Yeah, sounds great," you smiled, then gave her a quick wave before heading in the opposite direction towards the infirmary.

It was only a short ten minute walk to work, but the fresh air combined with stretching your muscles for the first time in days really did something to improve your mood. By the time you pushed open the door to the infirmary, you were actually looking forward to working again.

And so was Nick, apparently, because his eyes lit up and his body sagged with relief when he saw you.

"I was a few hours away from sneaking you the good pills and begging you to come back," he joked, then his face turned serious. "Everything alright? What happened?"

"Oh, I'm fine," you said, waving off his concern, "I slipped on some ice and pulled a muscle, it's all good now."

"Well, be careful out there, alright? You're the best aide I have."

"I'm the only aide you have," you corrected him before hanging up your jacket. "What do you need me to do?"

The morning went by fast. Nick had told you in the few days you were out, the clinic wasn't terribly busy, but he unfortunately did fall behind on housekeeping. So you busied yourself running loads of sheets and blankets to the laundry, then sanitizing equipment until Mr. Phillips came in after lunch with a laceration on his arm from working in the stables. It wasn't a bad injury, but it required some cleaning and a few stitches, which you were secretly eager to observe. You wanted to get more exposure to stitching in the hopes of being able to take care of non-emergency injuries by yourself one day.

It felt good to feel useful again. Staying busy forced your mind off Joel and the whole mess waiting for you at home, and you were grateful for the distraction. So much so that you decided to stay a little longer than usual and fold the linens that came back from the laundry. You were killing two birds with one stone: staying busy and avoiding going home in between work and dinner. By now, you knew he'd be back and likely waiting for you, and you still had no idea what you would say.

As the sun began to set and the world outside the infirmary grew darker, you slid your coat back on and locked the door behind you before heading for the dining hall.

Shoving your hands deep into your pockets, you tucked your chin against your chest, feet carrying you swiftly through the streets, eyes cast down and avoiding others as best you could. When you arrived at the dining hall, it was packed, per usual, but you did manage to spot Ellie and Dina holding a small table in the back of the room. As you weaved your way through the crowd, you noticed they were sharing some bread and butter and you felt your stomach rumble. For the first time in days, you felt excited to eat.

"Hey," you said in greeting as you dropped your coat over the back of an empty chair before giving them each a half hug. "Freezing out there."

"Give it a second. It's hotter than hell in here," Dina joked before pushing the basket of bread in your direction. You plopped down into your chair and moaned when you felt the bread was still warm, then tore off little pieces and popped them into your mouth.

"Hungry?" Ellie asked, only partially joking as you nodded vigorously.

"Did you order the mac and cheese yet?"

"Yeah, didn't want him to run out," she replied as she eased back into her chair and turned her head toward Dina. "Do you see Chris and Holly over there? What are they thinking? They know that shit'll get back to Claire. What a bunch of assholes."

"Who?" you asked, your voice muffled around the bread.

"Couple of kids in our class," Dina explained, nodding towards the other side of the hall. You twisted around, your eyes scanning the crowd until you saw a younger couple sitting together, the girl sitting on the guy's lap and toying with his hair. "That's Chris, and he's been dating this girl, Claire, for like, what? Six months or so? And look at him. Letting that hussy crawl all over him. Men are pigs."

You choked on your laughter and took a swig of water. If only they knew.

Ellie's eyes lit up as she looked at something behind you, and you turned around to follow her gaze, spotting Seth as he made his way through the crowd with three plates of mac and cheese. However, just over his left shoulder you happened to notice Joel for the first time since you arrived, but by the looks of it, it was not the first time he noticed you.

He was sitting at his usual table with Tommy and another guy from patrol you vaguely recognized, the other two men engrossed in conversation while Joel pinned you with his stare. You quickly turned away, your cheeks feeling flush, and tried to focus on your dinner.

"Shit, this looks amazing," you said, distracted by the cheesy, piping hot dish set in front of you.

"I'm telling you, man, it's the fucking best," Ellie told you before digging in. You had to stifle a moan when the food hit your tongue for the first time, eternally grateful for the impeccable timing because all you could think about in that moment was how good it tasted, Joel temporarily forgotten for the first time in days.

"Didn't you eat today?" Dina asked, her lips twitching into a grin, and you shook your head.

"Not really. Haven't had much of an appetite this week," you told her, and Ellie tilted her head to the side.

"Your pain was that bad?"

"Huh?" you asked, then it dawned on you once again. The Lie. "Oh, yeah. I mean, I ate a little, I just wanted to sleep, I guess."

"Joel didn't make sure you ate?" she pressed, her eyes flicking over your shoulder. You dropped your fork, scrambling to come up with yet another lie when her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed, making you twist around to see what made her demeanor change so suddenly.

As you expected, she was looking in Joel's direction, but he was no longer looking at your table. It was impossible considering Angie was standing directly in front of him, blocking his view with her body, her hand resting on the back of his chair.

"What is she up to now?" Dina murmured to Ellie, but you could hardly register her words. The way your anger ignited deep within your chest and licked up your throat, it was a miracle you even remembered to breathe. Joel's legs shifted, knees turned away from her, but that was all you could see. You couldn't see the look on his face or hear what was said. You couldn't see where his hands were. But you could see Angie flick her long, straight hair over her shoulder with a flirty laugh that was clearly meant to pull attention onto her.

If you didn't have tunnel vision, you would have noticed she was successful. A few heads turned, men's eyes lingering on her backside while women's eyes darted in your direction, but you were incapable of processing any of it. Ellie was saying your name, but you couldn't hear her over the ringing in your ears.

It was less than a minute. Thirty seconds, tops, and she walked away from him with a sickly grin plastered across her face, her two friends returning her mischievous smile before flanking her side, making their way towards the exit like a swarm of bees.

Without even thinking, you stood up.

"What are you doing?" Ellie asked, but you ignored her. Instead, you pushed your way through the crowd in a trance, shouldering people out of your way without so much as an apology, too laser focused on your target to care.

"Joel!" Ellie called out to him. He was rubbing his face angrily, trying to avoid his brother's eyes glaring at him in disbelief over what he just overheard Angie say when he heard Ellie. Great, she knows, too, he initially thought, but when he looked up and saw Ellie and Dina, panic-stricken, making their way towards the exit, he realized something was happening. He didn't see you until you emerged from the crowd and reached for the door, swinging it open and allowing a cool blast of air into the room before disappearing outside.

"Oh, shit," Joel mumbled, snatching his coat and forcing his way through all the people as quickly as he could. Tommy followed, confused at first, until he realized you were no longer at your table and then it clicked.

By the time you made it outside, you nearly missed where they went, but luck was on your side because her high-pitched giggle danced through the bitter cold air and you twisted your head to the left, just in time to see the three women in the shadow of night round a corner and head down a residential street.

You were nearly running to catch up with them, but you couldn't feel your feet hit the ground or hear the gravel crunching under your boots. And neither did they, because when you found yourself less than ten feet away, they were still giggling and talking animatedly amongst themselves, completely oblivious to your presence.

Skidding to a stop, you shouted, "Hey!"

All three women swirled around in surprise, their eyes wide and their smiles slipping from their faces when they sensed the rage radiating from your body. But even still, Angie tried to play dumb.

"Can we help you?" she asked sarcastically with a dry laugh, but when you took a step forward, she went quiet.

"Yeah," you sneered, fists clenching at your sides, "I had a question for you, actually."

Angie looked perplexed, not expecting that, so she held her hands out to her side, urging you to continue while Ellie and Dina caught up, standing a few paces back.

"Did you run out of dick to suck in this town or are you just that fucking bored you thought you'd give home wrecking a try?"

Dina snickered behind you and Ellie gasped.

"Home wrecking?" she replied, raising her eyebrow and crossing her arms. "Is that what you'd call your man following me into the ladies room at the bar so he could shove his tongue down my throat?"

Your nostrils flared and your ears began to make that buzzing noise again, so you dug your nails into your palms, desperately trying to ground yourself.

"Can I even call him your man?" she taunted, feeling like she got the upper hand. "Are you even together anymore? You clearly don't fuck him if he was looking for it from-"

You couldn't even remember moving. Your feet had a mind of their own as you closed the distance between you with two long strides and swung your arm back with as much force as you could muster, backhanding Angie right across the mouth.

Her hands flew up to her face and her two friends stumbled backwards in surprise, but all you saw was red. Before she could recover, you grabbed her by the coat and threw her down onto the muddy street, knocking the wind out of her with a sharp gasp. Quickly, before she could get up, you straddled her midsection. With your left hand pressing down on her chest and your right balled into a fist near your head, you landed a punch right on her perfect little nose with a sickening crunch, causing a trail of blood to trickle out of her nostrils seconds later. But that didn't stop you. You kept going, your knuckles, now bloody, marring her flesh over and over again, but when you made contact with her jawbone, you flinched, a jolt of pain shooting down your middle finger making you pause.

That was when Angie saw her opportunity.

She vaulted you off her with her hips and she rolled to her side, pinning you to the ground with blood dripping down her face. She scratched desperately at your eyes and mouth, your hands coming up to protect yourself with a yelp, before she began landing weak punches against your cheek and mouth. And even though they weren't as forceful as your hits, her weight pinning you down kept you from reclaiming the upper hand.

Ellie and Dina were shouting your name, but you tuned them out. All you could focus on was Angie, blocking her punches as best you could while you waited for your opportunity to take her down.

Then, Angie's hand wrapped around your throat, her fingers pressing into your windpipe. Your hands grabbed her wrist as you fought for air and violently thrashed underneath her.

"Face it," she hissed, leaning down and putting more pressure against your throat, "If it was that easy, I was doing you a favor. He never really loved you, you were just an easy fuck before your brain got all scrambled."

Her words were exactly what you needed to get your second wind.

With an angry roar, you punched her right in the throat, and although you couldn't get much force behind it, it was enough to make her loosen her grip in surprise. And just as Tommy and Joel were running up the street, you tossed Angie to the side and scrambled back on top of her. But this time, you didn't stop.

You were merciless, your hands were a blur. Fists rained down blows upon her face while she desperately tried to shield herself, but it was no use.

"Stop!" she sobbed, begging, but the fear in her voice just egged you on.

Blood began to stain her yellow hair, her perfect skin began to turn red and purple while your fists never stopped, each blow creating a new mark or cut. You couldn't stop if you tried. Something snapped and you unlocked a part of yourself you didn't know, or didn't remember, existed. Some part of you that was a warrior. A fighter. A survivor. And it wasn't until Joel hooked his arms underneath yours and hauled you back that you finally stopped, your chest heaving and your eyes wild.

"Y-you crazy b-bitch!" Angie sputtered, blood trickling from her nose and mouth as Tommy knelt in front of her.

"You haven't seen crazy!" you screamed as you kicked and struggled to get out of Joel's grip. Tommy reached down to help Angie up and he motioned for her friends to come forward. "Stay the fuck away from us or I'll fucking kill you!" you shouted, "You hear me, you fucking whore? I will fucking kill you!"

"Calm down!" Joel yelled from behind, but your blood boiled as you focused your rage on him.

"Get your fucking hands off me," you snarled, wrenching your arms out of his grasp. "This is your fault!" you continued, pointing your finger in his face and backing away, ignoring the tortured look he gave you. A sick part of you was pleased to see the sting of your words land.

"I think she needs to see Nick," Tommy said as both of Angie's friends struggled to help her up.

"She's lucky she's alive," you snapped as you wiped the back of your hand over your bloody face.

"Holy shit, dude," Ellie murmured as you turned around, her eyes all wide with shock.

"I'm going home," you grumbled, wiping more blood from your cheek as you began the journey back to your house on shaky legs, wondering how on earth you were expected to share a space with Joel after tonight. Dina and Ellie exchanged some quick words as you left before Ellie quickly caught up with you.

"I'll clean you up."

"You don't-"

"I know. But I want to," she said, wrapping her arm around your shoulder, and it took everything in you not to lean into her and let her drag you home.

You were exhausted. Mentally and physically. And you just wanted to go to bed. But you were grateful for Ellie. Someone who cared, someone who saw you were hurting and needed help without having to ask for it. So you let her clean you up in your bathroom when you arrived back home, her nimble fingers delicately pressing against your wounds, cleansing them as best she could before pressing band aids and butterfly bandages against your cuts and then making you an ice pack to help with the swelling.

She tucked you into bed and made you drink some water before sitting down on the edge of your mattress with a sigh.

"I had no idea," she began, and you quickly waved her off.

"I know. It's... I know," you said, at a loss for words.

"You didn't really hurt your back, did you?" she asked, and you slowly shook your head. "That motherfucker," she seethed, "I can't believe him, I'm going to kill him, I swear-"

"Just leave him alone," you told her, "Let me handle it."

The two of you sat quietly for a moment, each of you lost in your own thoughts before she spoke again.

"It wasn't like that before," she began, and at first you weren't following, but then you realized: she was talking about before your accident. "You were crazy about each other. Angie was never an issue. Neither of you paid her any attention. She just saw an opportunity and took advantage," Ellie said as her fingers tangled in her lap. "I shouldn't even be saying this, it feels like I'm defending him, but I swear. I was with you guys all the time. You were in love, man."

"Things changed, I guess," you said sadly, but she shook her head.

"You guys are what inspired me and Dina to go for it," she said softly, avoiding your gaze. "We were scared, but I saw how you two were together and how you made it work and, I don't know," she said, picking at her fingernail, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I look up to you guys. And it's kind of fucking with my head right now that all this is happening."

"Ellie, no," you said, shifting a bit in bed and reaching out to her. "Don't say that. Don't question what you and Dina have because of me and Joel."

She swallowed and looked at you, her eyes soft and worried.

"Why did he do it?" she asked quietly, and you could hear the pain in her voice. Pressing your lips together, you shrugged.

"It's complicated."

She nodded and looked away. "Will you do me a favor?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Would you give him a chance? Just hear him out and let him explain?" she begged, and you immediately bristled. "You don't have to forgive him. Just... don't give up yet. Please. He loves you, I know it, and... and I think you love him, too."

You scoffed then cleared your throat, your fingers coming up to press gently on your tender neck. "I don't love him," you croaked, but she shook her head.

"If you don't love him then why do you care so much?" she countered, and you fell silent, unable to give her an answer, eyes drifting aimlessly around the room. "Why did you almost kill Angie for sleeping with him if you didn't love him?"

"Sleeping with - no, Ellie. They didn't have sex. He kissed her," you quickly explained, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"You rearranged her face because he kissed her?" she asked in disbelief, then laughed softly and stood up. "I'm not saying he didn't fuck up, but dude. Come on. You gotta see it, now, right?"

You took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes.

"Alright. For you, I'll... talk to him, or whatever," you grumbled half-heartedly.

"Thank you," she said, her voice sounding more like herself once again before turning to leave and allowing you to rest. If you had any inkling she was trying to manipulate you into forgiving Joel, it was quickly expunged because you awoke an hour later to her arguing with him in the living room when he arrived home, the conversation ending with her storming out of the house and then his weary footsteps slowly climbing up the stairs.

Once again, you watched as he paused outside your room, two narrow shadows cast by his legs breaking up the thin beam of light under your door until he thought better of it and kept walking, his own bedroom door closing softly with a click.

The pain was worse the next morning, but you refused to admit it. The cuts burned and the bruises throbbed, but you were too stubborn to let any weakness show, although one look at your bruised neck would tell anyone the truth. You forced yourself out of bed, feeling too guilty to bail on Nick after already taking so many days off to wallow in your own misery, and washed up before heading downstairs. Much to your surprise, Joel was sitting at the kitchen table, his big hand cupping a mug of coffee while he stared blankly at the wall, lost in his own thoughts. When you first saw his face, the bags under his eyes evident, even from across the room, it was clear he hardly got any sleep.

Good, you thought. Then you remembered your promise to Ellie and bit back whatever nasty remark you were getting ready to toss his way. Instead, you dragged yourself to the coffee maker, ignoring the mug Joel left out for you and choosing your own, unable to resist the urge to be just a little bit spiteful.

He cleared his throat as you poured your coffee, a warning he was about to speak, and your shoulders tensed.

"How're you feelin'?"

"About as good as I look," you muttered, bringing the coffee to your lips and taking a tiny sip before turning around. He looked up at you, for the first time seeing the extent of your injuries and he jolted forward in his chair, fighting back the instinct to stand up and inspect your wounds. He blinked rapidly, gaze skirting over your face and neck, worry etching his features until you sighed.

"It's not really that bad," you admitted, looking down at your feet.

"Tell Nick t'give you somethin' when you get to work," he said, voice strained. You nodded and took another sip of your coffee. He swallowed nervously before inching forward in his chair and clasping his hands between his knees. "I'm sorry," he said, the words laced with guilt and shame. "I'm so sorry, I fucked up. But you gotta believe me, I didn't go out that night lookin' for her or anyone else. I just wanted to drink and be alone for a little while." He rubbed his palms over his face while you still stared down at the floor, listening.

"I believe you," you finally said after a tense stretch of silence. He dropped his hands and looked up.

"You do?"

"Doesn't mean I forgive you, but I believe you didn't run out of here looking to shove your tongue down someone else's throat."

He grimaced and dropped his chin to his chest.

"D'you think-" he cut himself off and took a deep breath before forcing himself to look at you again. "D'you think you could ever forgive me?"

You closed your eyes and pressed your lips into a thin line.

"I don't know," you said quietly. Your head was pounding, so you rubbed your forehead, his eyes trained on you anxiously from across the room, knee bouncing slightly as he waited to hear you say anything that would give him a glimmer of hope. "You really fucking hurt me, Joel," you said, trying to hide your lower lip as it trembled, but he heard the pain in your voice and it broke his heart.

"I know, I'm an asshole and I don't deserve you. I never did. Not after what happened at the hospital and definitely not now," he said, standing up and taking a few hesitant steps in your direction, stopping when he reached the kitchen island. "But I'll do whatever it takes. I'll wait as long as I need to, I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you, prove to you that-"

"I don't want to lead you on, Joel," you said solemnly, eyes watering. "I can't promise I'll ever move past it. I'm not sure we're strong enough to get through this."

"Yes, we are," he told you adamantly, "I don't want anyone else. I only want you. You ain't leadin' me on because I don't wanna go anywhere else. I don't care what that looks like in the future, I'll take whatever you give me, that's all I want."

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the wobble in his voice, and looked into the living room, the framed photo of your house that Ellie drew for you several Christmases ago, the same one you read about in your journal, catching your eye, and you felt yourself tear up.

I just want to go home, you thought, but home no longer existed. This was your home, like it or not.

You turned away, looking out the window over the sink blinking back tears, but Joel had already followed your gaze to the photo.

"I should get going," you said, voice thick. You chugged whatever coffee you could and dumped the rest in the sink.

"I'm gonna make it up to you," he said, following you to the door, "I'm gonna make this right." You scoffed.

"Yeah, okay," you mumbled sarcastically, shoving on your boots and coat before swinging open the door and heading out into the frigid winter morning, big flakes of snow slowly swirling and falling from the sky as Joel watched you trudge down the street, hunched over and curled in on yourself. A shell of the person he knew you to be.

He did that. He caused you pain. And it made him sick.

But at least he finally thought of a way he could prove how much you meant to him.

Sweat covered your forehead by the time you made it to the infirmary, your wool knit cap to blame for the excessive heat pouring from your head while your face was ice cold. You yanked it off your head and shed your coat before making your way to the back, your hair sticking to your forehead. Nick was nowhere to be found, but one of the exam room doors was closed and you heard voices murmuring on the other side. Assuming he had an early patient, you pulled your hair back and got to work. It was supposed to be a quiet day. Nick wanted you to work on an updated inventory list after getting a big batch of supplies two weeks prior from an unexplored hole-in-the-wall pharmacy.

The exam room door swung open, the voices clearer now, and your shoulders stiffened when you recognized the patient. You should have assumed Angie would be there that day, but for some reason it hadn't occurred to you.

Your anger had diffused a bit since the night before, that raw, exposed nerve quelled by time, but that didn't stop you from glaring at her as she passed by the inventory closet. Her swollen eyes widened with fear when she saw you and for the first time, you got a good look at the damage you inflicted. Her nose was clearly broken, she was missing a tooth and both eyes were black and blue, but the cuts on her cheeks and lips were superficial, at best.

She kept walking, not daring to say a word in your direction as your eyes followed her out the door. When she left, Nick turned around with a sigh and crossed his arms.

"How're you feeling?"

You shrugged and turned back to your clipboard. "I'm alright."

"You look like shit," he said, sidling up next to you and plucking the ibuprofen from the shelf. He tapped out two pills and dropped them into your palm before closing the bottle, putting it back where it belonged. "Did you eat?"

With just a shake of your head you popped the pills, swallowing them dry before turning back to your task.

"You gotta eat something with those, it'll tear up your stomach," he said, disappearing down the hallway and coming back a few minutes later with an apple. You grimaced but took it anyway, unable to stop your mind from replaying the memory of peeling apples with Joel just a week prior. Before everything went to hell.

Nick watched you quietly for a moment as you chewed your apple slowly and read down the list of medications on your clipboard.

"Do you, uh," he began, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, "do you need someone to talk to?" You glanced up at him in surprise and he dropped his hand back to his side. "We don't have to talk about it. But I know you still feel like you're a stranger in this town, and that's gotta be tough." He scratched his greying chin as he glanced around the room and you had to fight back the laugh that bubbled up your throat. You couldn't help it.

He noticed the amused look on your face at his discomfort and pretended to be annoyed when he muttered, "just come find me if you wanna talk or whatever," but you knew it was just an act. Nick was typically a quiet man, kept to himself and hardly ever spoke to his patients, let alone you, his employee, about personal matters. The fact he was trying now must mean he really thought you needed it.

The older man disappeared down the hall to his office and you smiled to yourself, then focused back on work, grateful for something that took your mind off your misery, even if it was just for a moment.

"What the hell do you want?" Tommy scowled when he flung open his door to find his older brother waiting on the other side, hands shoved deep in his pockets, weight shifting foot to foot in an effort to keep warm.

"C'mon, Tommy, I'm gettin' it from all angles, here."

"I don't give a shit," he spat, turning on his heel to retreat back into the house, but left the front door open. Joel took a step inside and quietly shut the door behind him, glancing around the entryway and peering into the living room as he took off his outerwear.

"Maria home?"

"No, she's down at the stables with Violet. Showin' her the horses, gettin' her outta the house," he grumbled, angrily putting away dishes as he spoke. Joel sighed and flattened his palms against the counter.

"I gotta ask for a favor."

Tommy scoffed and shook his head. "You're a piece of work, y'know that?"

"Yeah, I fuckin' know. Jesus Christ, Tommy, I made one goddamn mistake!" Joel yelled, slapping his hand against the cool countertop. Tommy twisted around, brow furrowed, and crossed his arms.

"Don't take an attitude with me," Tommy said through clenched teeth, "I don't give a shit if everyone's gangin' up on you. You deserve it! I thought she was the one you wanted to spend your life with? The one you'd do anythin' for?"

"She is!" Joel exclaimed, raking his fingers through his hair. Tommy's eyes softened while he watched his brother struggle, the enormity of what he did clearly taking its toll.

"Then what the fuck were you thinkin'?" he asked after a few moments, tone pleading. "Everythin' was goin' so well. You guys were havin' a nice time at the party, laughin' and smilin', we all saw it. Then you take 'er home and step out like that?"

"It's not- I was drunk and misread some things," Joel replied, rubbing his eyes with the pads of his fingers. "I tried to kiss her, she shot me down and I didn't take it all that well, alright?" Joel dropped his hand, exasperated, and looked at Tommy once again, taking a deep breath. "Went to the bar to drink and Angie sunk her claws into me. I got the hell outta there and confessed the second I got home but... didn't matter," he said, hanging his head between his shoulders.

"Angie said you followed her into the bathroom, Joel. Don't bullshit me, I was sittin' right there."

"I know, Jesus, it's my fault. I was drinkin' and upset and she was just... there. Pesterin' me and pushin' my buttons. It was only a second, Tommy. Nothin' else happened, y'hear me?" Joel's eyes were wide and desperate as he stared at his little brother across the kitchen.

"It's no excuse, Joel," Tommy said sadly. Joel pushed off the counter with a huff and yanked angrily at his disheveled hair again.

"I know that. I'm just tellin' you how it went down. But I gotta make it up to her. I gotta make it right."

"How the hell do you plan on doin' that? 'Cause from where I'm sittin', only way she could move past it is if I take her back out into the woods so she can hit her head again and forget," Tommy said.

Joel rolled his eyes and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

"I got an idea. Don't know if it'll work, but it's all I can think of to prove what she means to me," he said softly, staring down at his fingers twisting together in his lap.

Tommy sized his brother up and down before taking a few steps closer, his hands coming to grip the back of a chair as he leaned forward.

"Let's hear it."

Joel sighed and tilted his chin up. "I need a week off from patrol. I gotta leave Jackson. And I need a horse."

"What?" Tommy asked incredulously. "In the middle of winter? Absolutely not. You'll die out there."

"I survived out there before I came to Jackson, I'll be fine."

"Been a long fuckin' time and you weren't alone when you did it," Tommy argued.

"You offerin' to help?" Joel asked, and Tommy laughed dryly. But Joel continued to stare at him.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"'Course I am," Joel replied, "she ain't ever gonna forgive me but I gotta do somethin', Tommy. I can't lose her, and right now, it really feels like I'm gonna lose her." Joel's voice cracked and he turned away, looking out the window so Tommy couldn't see the emotion behind his eyes.

Tommy groaned and yanked a chair out to sit down.

"What'dya need me to do?"

It was a long day on your feet and your face hurt more than you cared to admit, so by the time you arrived home, you decided to make yourself a sandwich and go to bed early, skipping an appearance at the dining hall where you knew half the town would be gawking at you and your wounds, anyway.

Fortunately, Joel was up in his room with the door closed when you quietly snuck upstairs with your sandwich. You were still emotionally exhausted from your brief conversation that morning and you were grateful he wasn't looking to have another one.

Nick had sent you home with one of the good pills, as he called it, so you took it with your meal and within the hour, you were out cold. Maybe if you hadn't taken the pill, you would have been awake to hear Joel's bedroom door squeak open, the rustling of fabric and the tinkling of metal cutting through the quiet hallway as he gripped his sleeping bag in one hand and his backpack stuffed with supplies in the other.

Like he usually did, he paused outside your room, his eyes lingering on the doorknob, ears straining for any sign that you were awake, that maybe you had a change of heart and he could call the whole trip off, but he was only met with silence.

He swallowed and turned towards the stairs, quietly tiptoeing down and packed another bag with food from the pantry before setting all three items by the door. At the last minute, he decided to leave a note, not even certain you would notice or care he was gone, but he knew Tommy would be furious when he found out he lied to him earlier and he really didn't want his brother to waste manpower trying to hunt him down in the wilderness. So he grabbed a pen from a drawer and an old envelope. The tip of his pen hovered over the paper as he struggled with what to say, then finally decided to keep it brief before scribbling his note, leaving it by the coffee maker where he knew you would see it.

Lastly, he strode into the living room and grabbed one more thing, shoving it into his backpack before piling on his layers and heading out the front door, giving the house one last forlorn glance before slipping quietly into the night.

It was your day off, so naturally you allowed yourself to sleep in a little, hoping that the extra rest would help your bruises to heal. At the very least, you were pleased to discover the pain around your throat was significantly better than the day before.

You didn't hear Joel when you got up, but that was typical. He usually had early morning patrol shifts and was back by the afternoon, but when you came downstairs and saw the coffee wasn't made like it normally was, you froze. Your eyes drifted around, noticing his coat and boots were missing.

Maybe he was running behind and just didn't have time to make coffee.

As unusual as that might be, it was the only logical conclusion until you walked over to the coffee maker and saw an aged envelope sticking out of your favorite mug. You frowned and picked it up, eyes quickly scanning the words once, then three more times before the panic set in, your stomach churning worse and worse each time.

Tell Tommy I'll be back in a week.

He knows why.

No matter what, just know I love you with my whole heart, in this world or the next.

Joel

Boots unlaced and coat unzipped, you raced down the street towards Tommy's house, the envelope gripped tightly in your fist.

What the hell did that mean? Where did he go? What is he doing? And why did he sneak out without telling Tommy?

You banged on the door, the wood rattling violently under your clenched fist, only afterwards realizing you could have been waking their daughter but fortunately when the door opened, you saw Violet and Maria playing in the living room over Tommy's shoulder.

"What's goin' on, sugar? You okay?" he asked, voice filled with concern when he saw the look on your face.

"Joel's gone," you said hurriedly before pushing past him and entering the house, yanking off your hat and exchanging glances with Maria from across the room.

"Gone? What'dya mean, gone?"

"I mean I woke up today and he was gone, Tommy!" you exclaimed, handing him the note. "Where did he go?!"

You were aware your voice was panicky, that your eyes were wide with fear and your breath was fast and shallow, but you didn't care how it looked to them in that moment.

Tommy scanned the note and sighed, rubbing his forehead before urging you to join him in the living room, where he collapsed onto the sofa.

"That idiot," he murmured under his breath, handing you back the envelope.

"Where is he, Tommy?" you tried again, hoping to sound less frantic this time.

He glanced at Maria before meeting your gaze.

"He was here yesterday afternoon. Told me he needed a favor. Said he needed a week off from patrol and a horse."

"To do what?" you pressed, sinking down into an armchair next to the couch.

"He said-" he cut himself off and looked down at the note in your hand, ticking his jaw to the side as if he was contemplating how much to tell you.

"Spit it out," you demanded, and his eyes snapped back up to you.

"Said he had a plan to make things up to you. For, y'know," he waved his hand in the air, not wanting to say it. You shook your head.

"What was his plan?"

"He wouldn't tell me everything but I offered to help," Tommy admitted, glancing guiltily at Maria who shot him a surprised glare. "Said he needed to go to California, that he wanted to bring a piece of you back. I'm guessin' you're from out that way?" Tommy asked, and you nodded slowly. "He said he would wait 'til I talked to Maria and worked out the schedule but I guess he decided to fuck off-"

"Tommy!" Maria scolded sharply, covering Violet's ears, and Tommy cringed.

"Sorry," he said softly before turning back to you. "Guess he decided to lone-wolf it."

Your eyes drifted back to the note in your hand, swallowing the lump in your throat while your mind raced to catch up.

"What if he doesn't make it?" you asked, eyes still glued to the envelope, "what if he dies out there and it's all my fault?"

They heard your voice waver and exchanged sympathetic looks.

"He made a choice, he knew the risks," Maria said, "but he's a capable guy. If there were anybody who could make it out there alone, it's Joel."

"Listen, I'd send a couple guys out there lookin' for him but there's a storm brewin'," Tommy said, rubbing his chin and glancing out the window. "Been watchin' those clouds build up over the mountains all week. Told Joel as much and he agreed to wait but reckon he changed his mind and wanted to get in front of it."

"Or it was his plan all along to leave alone and he just made sure no one would come after him," Maria said, making the three of you fall quiet.

"God, what do I do?" you murmured, burying your face in your hands.

Tommy glanced at Maria and she subtly nodded towards the kitchen. He stood and cleared his throat before reaching his arms out towards his daughter.

"C'mere, let's get you somethin' to eat before naptime," he said, lifting Violet and taking her into the kitchen to give you both some privacy.

"What's going on?" Maria asked softly as she sat down in Tommy's place on the couch. You sighed and dropped your hands to your lap.

"I don't know," you said truthfully, "I'm so fucking angry at him, but..."

Maria pursed her lips knowingly. "But you still care."

You groaned and leaned back into the chair. "Yes."

"It's not like you're telling me or anyone else something we didn't already know," she said, "not after what happened with you and Angie in the middle of the street. I mean, look at you," she pointed to your bruised neck. "No one fights like that for someone they don't love."

"I don't love him," you said sternly, eyes flashing angrily in her direction. "You sound like Ellie."

"Okay, so if two people are telling you-"

"I don't want to talk about it right now," you abruptly stood up, brushing your palms on your jeans. "Sorry to barge in like this. I'm sure he'll be fine. I'm actually looking forward to a week of quiet," you tried to say confidently despite how tight your throat felt as you headed towards the door.

Maria called your name as she trailed after you, urging you to stay and talk, but you just pressed your lips together and shook your head.

"Seriously, I'm fine," you said, forcing a smile across your face. "I have some stuff to do so I'll see you guys at dinner or something."

Before she or Tommy could say anything else, you slipped out the door and rushed down the street, back towards home.

It wasn't until later that afternoon, after you had scrubbed clean the kitchen and bathrooms, doing anything and everything you could to stay busy, that you noticed the missing picture from the wall in the living room.

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[affableramen]

asking them if they actually love you

fluffy angst, established relationships wriothesley, neuvillette, pantalone, capitano, dottore

Wriothesley

The duke was working at his desk in his private office when you walked in with no lively expression on your face. Wriothesley tore his eyes off from the cup of tea and saw you looking expressively exhausted.

“Wow, someone’s had a tough day”, he chuckled, “you look exhausted, babe.”

Ignoring his childish manner you asked him rather simply:

“Wrio, I have just one question. Do you even love me?”

Wriothesley choked on his tea.

“Love you? Of course I—I do.”

You did not have to question his frankness as Wriothesley has always been an explicitly blunt person. He would never lie in such occasions and certainly would tell you if he disliked something.

Having received his answer on the wobbly legs but with a contented smile, you lurked to his desk and hugged him from the side.

“Wrio, I’m just so tired and I’m in diiiire need of your cuddles.” You surprised him with a nice peck to his cheek.

Seeing you giving in to stress and overwhelmed all over Wriothesley could not help but started feeling upset too. He gently pulled your face close to him, his big gloved hand laid on your cheek in a loving way.

“Girl, someone has been working non-stop I see. Or should I say studying? M?”

He was clearly not happy with your sufferings. Being a workaholic himself Wriothesley knew how easy it is to overwhelm oneself. But he did not want this fate for you. Due to the sudden friction of you leaning to his chest to get sense of comfort, the work papers from Wriothesley’s desk had dropped onto the floor. You were lucky the ink remained still.

“Oops. Seems like you wanted to hug me so much you did not spare the poor sheets.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Wrio!”

“Ah, whatever.” He looked down indifferently. “Girl, I will not calm down until I make sure you’re in your bed, sleeping.”

“I’ll be fine. I can get home on my own.”

Wriothesley raised from his desk and discreetly walked you out of his office.

“I’m going to get you home and you’ll rest. That is unnegotiable.”

Neuvillette

Neuvillette was a closed, solitary man who experienced some difficulties when it came to relationship dynamics. Deep inside his heart he was, nonetheless, a pure romantic. He’d always come to your dates earlier, looking nothing but polished; and with incredibly serious (but polite) manner he would court you.

He was always a husband material and he let you know how important you are in his life any time he could. He was dedicated to you wholeheartedly, and even though at first time you were much scared off by his cold, aloof, professional-like appearance, later you found yourself falling in love with him too, until the both of you grew tightly attached to each other.

You knew you should not question or doubt his affections, but you had a terrible day and you only saw your world dark and hollow. It was when your shift ended that Neuvillette entered your office only to find you drowning in your work overtime. Or perhaps—no, it was your studies, your homework.

“Darling, were you doing your studies at work? I thought we’d agree that you would not overexert yourself.”

“I know…” you mumble, caffeine in you refusing to help anymore. “But at home I want to sleep. So when I finished my paperwork, I started doing my studies.”

“I see.” Neuvillette walked closely and took a look at your work sheets. “Dear, you have some mistakes here…But that’s not important now. I’ll give you a lift to home.”

You looked at Neuvillette bewildered.

“Home?”

“It’s evening already.”

“Neuvillette—” you asked him when he gently pulled you out from the desk by your hand. He gave you a surprised look. Judging by your face you were dead serious about asking something, so he kept quiet, letting you speak. “Do you like, love me?”

He was flustered at first, but only mildly. Neuvillette cleared his throat and adjusting his collar he answered with the equal seriousness:

“That I do. Why, have I made you doubt my affections?”

“No. I was just messing with you… I’m having a bad day.”

“I love you”, he said as if picking up your disappointed mood, he continued confessing to you in a frenzy: “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He smooched your cheek before leading you out of the office. “And I will make sure you won’t overwhelm yourself like today.”

Pantalone

“Do you even love me…” you wonder out loud, your chin laying on your arm as you’re doing the paper work.

“Love is a foolish concept for foolish people. It only softens your senses and makes you miserable. I cannot afford being miserable, vulnerable or weak”, Pantalone responds—his words a well-polished conviction he made himself believe in. Although, his looks is harsh on you and he states that in a rough manner, his gaze does not leave your exhausted image not for a moment of time.

Tired and exhausted, you are lying on the desk before the papers.

“So now you’re collapsing on my desk? Did no one teach you proper manners?” he inquires with a tone so ambiguous and indefinite that no one can truly guess if he’s fooling around or scolding you quite seriously.

“So you don’t”, you respond quietly. What were you even thinking… Of course a Harbinger—especially one of the oldest, probably no longer sensitive to feelings—Regrator would ever love you.

“There’s no point of me loving you, really. Love’s a poison, and I cannot let myself be poisoned, for there are many people who’d prefer me dead. I suffered too many assassination attempts to grow a sense of preservation in myself. Besides, where have you heard about love in business?” As always, the talkative man he is Pantalone would not stop blabbering a second. But seeing you close your eyes as he came closer, he whispered quietly, but audible enough for you to hear:

“I love you.”

Perhaps he did not even consider the words which slipped so fast from his lips. He wanted to cover his mouth shut to hide his embarrassment, but then he did not see a point in this.

“Thanks…” said the sleepy you, the next second falling asleep on the papers. “I … love you… too…”

“You’re an idiot. When will you stop mixing work and studies? Come, I’ll get you to bed.”

He gently pulled you into his arms and carried you through the dimly lit corridor. He placed you on your silky bed sheets, his hand moving to caress your cheek.

“You need to take better care of yourself. You can’t keep being so overwhelmed with both work and university. Now, sleep.”

He kisses your cheek, his lips linger for a few moments…

“I’m so exhausted.”

“I know. Sleep, my dear.”

He switched the lights off and slowly raised from the bed, afraid to do any friction that would tear you off from the sleepy state.

Capitano

“Capitano”, you called him from the middle of the living room, while you were studying near the fireplace.

He was just about to enter the room when you side eyed him and the familiar smell of spicy perfume seemed to fill the half of the air.

“Do you even love me, Capitano?”

He stood there, frozen at your question, not knowing what to respond because you usually would not have audacity to ask him something way too personal. It must have been a damn good reason for you to strike him so deeply.

“Hmph. What do you think?” He stopped in the frame of the entrance, his big arms crossed as he leaned onto the frame.

“I don't know, you tell me.” You did not tear your gaze of the book, as if taunting him. But he did not suspect that you were genuinely exhausted at that moment and sook to be comforted.

“Do you think I’d let you lurk in my house on weekends if I did not? Do you think I would ask my servants to prepare the finest meals for you, neatly accordingly to your allergies?” He grunts, unsatisfied and irritated. “Do you think I’d even let you talk to me so boldly if I did not want you by my side?”

You finally raised your head at him, leaving the book behind and gave him a satisfied but undoubtedly cunning smile.

“Capitano, my love, you’re so cute when you’re grumpy.”

“I just don't see a point in asking something so obvious.”

“You and your rational thinking. What if I just wanted to hear you sweet talking to me?”

Capitano was speechless. He knew how cunning you could be, but he did not even imagine that you would be taunting him so badly.

“I’ve had a difficult day. Too much studies, too little rest. I have not much time before exams so I am constantly stressing.”

“You don't have your deserved rest because you kept working even being a student. You need to choose one, woman.”

You sighed at Capitano. How many times did you have to explain to him?..

“I know, but I told you I want to have some cash of my own. I don't want to constantly ask you to buy something for me.”

“But your work kills you. You give so much effort for university, and you give as much to your work. This is unacceptable for your health.” His tone is cold with seriousness. You know he wouldn't change his mind just as you wouldn't change yours.

“Fine, perhaps I’ll work two days instead of three. But Capitano, stop standing there like a statue, sit down next to me. My mind is at peace when you are close.”

“Even if I am simply… sitting here? Doing nothing at all?”

“Even so. But I think you already know that you could hug me since I haven't seen you the whole day~.”

Dottore

“Do you even love me, Dottore?” you asked him plainly with no ceremonies. For a moment Dottore’s hand froze as he was holding the vial. He was standing there in his white medical gown as he mixed some fluids. After a few long moments he finally gave you an answer, his tone indifferent, but you could not see his expression behind the white safety mask.

“You know perfectly I only love science.”

“Guess I should have expected that ans—”

“But I love you. Perhaps, a little less than science, but I do. And I hope you know that”, he cleared his throat, “why’d you even ask that on the first place?”

You took a few steps closer to Dottore, silently lurking behind his back, fearing to ruin his test, but you could not escape his sharp senses.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Continue with your experiment.”

“Uh-huh.” Dottore finally poured the fluids and mixed them properly. When the experiment finished he took his gloves off and you quickly wrapped your arms around his waist before he could run away from you.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, flustered enough to want his face hidden somewhere far from your eyes.

“I missed you, besides I’m very tired. If you don’t want to hug me back, then just stay like this and let me squeeze you.”

Nothing could express Dottore’s astonishment right now. He was most embarrassed, and he is not at all used to such extravagant signs of affections.

“Y/N you fool, careful with where you’re standing, my whole lab is not a playground.”

“I love you too, Dottore.” You delivered a peck to his cheek from behind. That action made Dottore boil immensely, and he finally turned around and leaned against his desk.

“Did something or someone upset you? You don’t usually act so rapidly.”

“Just a bad day in general. I’m exhausted and hungry too. But at least you told me you love me.”

Dottore sighed through teeth. He disliked a mere idea of you being stressed out. He wanted to cheer you up but his heart did not have capacity enough for much open affection.

“Okay, brat. How about we grab a dinner somewhere together? You wanna hot food?”

There were sudden sparkles in your eyes - the only offer from Dottore’s lips made you all shake with excitement and your frustration seemed to brush off.

“I would love to eat out with you right now, Dott.”

“Well in that case”, he glared at you and hissed, “let me finish my job properly. Wait in the vestibule.”

Grinning, you escaped his lab with fast pace, seeing Dottore roll his eyes at your childish excitement.

[mountainsandmayhem]

Shhh...Just A Little Bit More

DBF!Joel x Fem!Reader

18+ MDNI

Masterlist || Part Two || Part Three (Soft Version) || Part Three (Spicy Version)

Summary: Joel catches you somewhere you shouldn't be, twice. CW: all p no plot! age gap, spanking, dirty talk, parental guilt, brat and brat tamer, sub/dom dynamics, edging and degradation kinks if you squint AN: I found the bottom right photo on Pinterest and @mermaidgirl30 said it screamed DBF!Joel. I have never written for DBF before so please be kind. Dividers by @saradika-graphics - thank you for all your amazing graphics and dividers, I'd be lost without your page.

“Let go of me, you fucking psycho!” You’re practically yelling over the music of the club, wrenching your arm from Joel’s strong grasp. The security guard approaches and Joel shoots him a glare so dark that he holds his hands up and steps back. “What the fuck, Joel?”

“What are ya doin’ here, sweetheart” he demands, one eyebrow raised. 

“I’m working!” You stomp your foot and then get right up in his face, pointing a finger at him. Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend, hanging out in a strip club one town over. “The real question is, what are YOU doin here?” 

You’re only a bottle girl, you don’t get on the stage and have no intentions of stripping. It’s good money, great money actually. At 22 you’re already well on your way to having a down payment on a condo, it’s just too bad you’re having to lie to your parents. 

“With my crew, they picked the place. I’m takin’ you home. Go get your coat.” He crosses his arms over his chest, staring at you sternly. The music is pounding in your ears, the air thick with smoke. Even in the dimly lit hallway you can see the way Joel’s eyes rake over your body, taking in the very tiny Jean shorts and bralette you’re wearing. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spin and flip him the bird as you walk away. You know he’s staring so you give a little extra wiggle of your ass as you walk away. Joel Miller, staring at your ass. The fourteen year old inside you does a happy dance - that version of yourself had a tiny crush on him. Too bad he’s a stuffy, grumpy asshole now. You miss the fun, young Joel. He used to do cannonballs in the pool with you and his daughter Sarah. She was a few years older than you, but he was much more fun than your father. But now? Now he’s a certified prick. Thinking he can drag you away like some sort of barbaric caveman. He’s not your dad, even if he was, you’re an adult. 

When you finish your shift you head outside and pull up your Uber app, men often want to do shots with you so even though you never get drunk at work you also don’t drive there. 

See, Joel. I’m responsible. 

“Let’s go,” his voice is deep, still angry with you. You didn’t see him waiting by the door so you jump. 

“Jesus. You fucking scared me.” 

“Watch your language. Get in the truck.” 

You grumble under your breath that he should kiss your ass as he holds the door open for you. He stalks around to his side of the truck while furrowing his brow and shaking his head. 

“Got somethin’ to say young lady?” 

“Ya,” you say, slumping in the seat and putting your white vans on his dashboard, “kiss my ass.” 

He presses his lips in a thin line, you can see him eyeing your long toned legs from your peripheral vision before the engine roars to life and he speeds off down the gravel highway. 

When you pull up to the house he hops out of the truck and is right on your heels as you open the door. 

“I’m fine, Mister Miller.” You say with a sneer. You know he hates that, he has told everyone he’s ever been introduced to to call him Joel. 

Joel steps into your parents house and calls your dad’s name. “What the fuck! Joel! Shut up!” 

He calls for him again and your dad comes stumbling from his room, tying his robe around his sleeping attire. “Joel? What’s going on?” He flicks on the light, squinting against the brightness. “It’s 3 in the morning.” 

“Just thought I’d let you now know that the guys at work wanted to go to The Skin tonight. Caught your daughter working there.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Joel?!” You yell, pushing at his broad chest. Your dad stands there stunned. Eyes wide and mouth agape. He thought you were working as a nurses aide overnight at the hospital on weekends. He’s even seen you leave the house in scrubs. All a part of the web of lies you have weaved. 

“Don’t speak to Joel that way,” your dad snaps. “Go to your room young lady. We’ll talk about this later.” 

“Kiss my ass, cowboy.” You practically spit at him as you stomp to your room. As you round the corner your mom is standing in the hallway clutching her crucifix necklace. You have a sudden urge to hiss at her with the way she’s looking at you, like you’re a disappointment. A sinner, the worst kind of person in her eyes. 

The next morning was the fight of all fights with your parents. Your dad tried to ground you, your mom started shoving church pamphlets at you. They wouldn’t even fucking listen. 

“IM NOT A STRIPPER,” you yelled at them over and over again. 

Finally, when the yelling ceased, your dad said in a very quiet anger, “young lady. I FORBID you from going there again. Is that clear? I don’t care if you’re 22 or 42, if you live under my roof, you live by my rules. You’re going to go to continue going to your university classes during the week, and on weekends you will be home. Studying. Helping your mother with the chores. You will go to bed at respectable hour. If you need money, you ask us. Is that clear?” 

You blink back tears and head to your room, slamming the door behind you. You are NOT quitting that job. 

When the next weekend rolls around you say goodnight to your parents at 10pm and head to your room. You worked it out with your boss to work the midnight to 4 am shift. So you wait - ear pressed to your door until you finally hear your parents go to bed. You sneak out the same way you’ve been sneaking out for years and run down the street with your newly embroidered denim shorts in hand to meet your Uber. 

You peel yourself away from the men and the booze around 2am to get some fresh air, exiting through the back to the dimly lit alley. You take a big inhale through your nose before you see it. The truck. Joel’s truck. And Joel. Leaning against the truck box, arms crossed, one foot up on the tire. 

You flip him off and then turn back towards the back entrance to the club. He’s on you so fast, grabbing the back of your bicep in his large hand. “You little brat. You aren’t supposed to be here.” 

“Read the shorts, MISTER Miller.” You say it as much venom as you can muster. 

His eyes rake down your body and you can almost feel them burning into you. It feels so good, you never want him to stop. Your pussy throbbed when he called you a brat and you wouldn’t be surprised if your light jean shorts hadn’t been soaked through already. When his eyes reach the pocket he sees ‘Kiss My Ass, Cowboy’ stitched in baby pink lettering and his grip tightens. 

He’s fucking furious with you. Furious that you’re here. Furious that other men get to see you dressed like this. Furious that he wants you so fucking badly. But mostly, furious because he knows you want him too and he’s a weak weak man when it comes to pretty little things like you. He yanks you back against his body and you let out a pained moan. 

“Don’t make me punish you,” he says coldly in your ear and you fight to stop your knees from buckling. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say breathlessly. 

Joel’s lips graze against the shell of your ear, hand gripping so tightly that you’re sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow. “So that’s what you want? You want me to punish you? Put you in your place? Huh?” 

You grind your ass back against him, “you would dare, Joel.” 

His other hand clamps down on your hip as he steers you to his truck, walking you around so no one can see the two of you. He opens the back door and pushes you forward until your legs are against the cold steel frame of the vehicle. “You don’t get to call me that. You call me Mr Miller from now on. Understood?” 

“Go fuck yourself, Joel,” you emphasize every vowel of his name, digging deeper. Pushing him. Pushing to see how far he’ll go. You get off on being a brat, and by the way his hard cock is pressing into your ass, he does too. 

He unbottons your shorts then lifts you slightly and pushes your upper body down onto the seat, the truck is high enough that your feet are dangling, ass stuck out for him. “Look at these slutty little shorts.” He tugs on the hem, your shorts now sitting just above your knees. Your pert ass is exposed to Joel and the night air. He tuts at the sight of you, “No panties. Little fuckin’ tease.” 

You whimper at his words, slick starting to coat your thighs. “You’re the one standing back there doing nothing.” You taunt. 

The cool night air spreads goosebumps across your skin, your clit twitches in anticipation of his touch. Other men have fucked you hard to get you to shut your mouth. And finally, FINALLY, you’re going to get fucked by Joel Miller. However, you grossly underestimated the different between the boys were with before and the man behind you now. 

His hand strikes your cheek hard and you let out a loud pained yell. “What the fuck, Joel!” 

“If you’re gonna be a brat,” his hand lands on your ass again, “you’re going to get a spanking.” His voice is harsh and rough as he hits you a third time. The sound of his skin on yours echoing through the cab of his truck. He hits you again, not caring about your cries of protest. 

You’ve never been spanked before and you’re thrown by your bodies reaction to it. At first you were shocked, then humiliated and then the pain and heat travelled to the base of your spine and you found yourself starting to get turned on. Arousal pools in your belly with each strike of his palm and when your pussy throbs the humiliation starts to creep back in. Are you supposed to be enjoying this so much, is this what Joel wants?

You bend your knees up, trying to make space between your bodies. One of his strong hands wraps around your ankles, pinning them to the back of your thighs as he spanks you again. 

“Stop! I’m sorry. I’ll - “ he strikes you again, harder than the last few times and there’s no more pain, every slap is full of pleasure. You let out a deep moan, your pussy practically gushing onto the leather seats. “Oh fuuuuck.”

Now that it’s turning you on it almost eggs Joel on. “Put your hands out in front of you,” he commands. Your arms shoot out, stretching them across the seat above your head. “Such a needy little slut. You’re drippin’ all over my fucking seat, baby girl.” He strikes you again and your arms flinch. “Keep them there.” 

Your ass is starting to get pink, his splotchy handprints covering it. The world around him starts to fade, all that he can see is you and your ass - and he wants to make it hurt. Then he wants to make it good. So very good. 

His strikes keep coming, he’s like a man possessed. “Stop, Joel. Please.” 

He drops your ankles, then uses his hand to spread your thighs apart, the denim biting into your knees. “Shhh…just a little bit more. Look at this messy pussy. You don’t want me to stop.” 

He hits you again and you start to hate how much he’s right. You don’t want him to stop, you’re on the verge of coming and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re sure the second he’s near your clit you’ll explode. 

Both of your cheeks are glowing red and Joel finally stops. You’ve both lost track of how many times he’s hit you. His large palm rubs the marks. You know you should keep your mouth shut, but fuck do you love to rile him up. 

“Are you done now? I have work to get back to.” 

Joel growls behind you. You hear the sound of his belt undoing, the leather whipping out from the demin loops. “I’m sick of your goddamn mouth, baby girl.” 

Your eyes widen in fear, stomach twisting up over the thought of him striking your sore ass with his thick leather belt. Your pussy, however, flutters in excitement. Slut, you think to yourself. 

You hear his buckle clinking, he grabs you by the hair and jerks your head back. “Open you mouth,” he says with a snarl. You obey him and he slides the folded up leather between your teeth. “Bite down on this. You can speak to me again once you’ve learned your lesson.” 

You press your teeth into the rough leather, waiting for his next move. His hand comes across the back of your thigh and it’s a whole different sensation. The pain shoots straight to your core, the walls of your pussy clenching harder than your teeth do as you whine out a high pitched squeal. On instinct your hands shoot back, knees bending to protect yourself from him. He steps back from you, without his heat you’re left in the cold air. 

“Arms up and legs down,” he says in an eerily calm voice. 

You whimper again, grinding your teeth against the leather of his belt before slowly peeling your arms and legs away from your body, returning to Joel’s desired position. You’re so wet that it’s staring pool along the leather seat of Joel’s truck, your hips slipping slightly. 

“Dirty little thing. I’m tryin to punish you and you’re sopping wet.” He steps forward and lays a loud sharp slap with perfect precision right across your sore thigh. 

You yelp again, whining as your lash line fills with tears. This is not what you thought would happen when Joel threatened to punish you. And you definitely didn’t expect to fucking love it. You’re so turned on that you feel dizzy. 

Joel’s lips come to your thigh. Light kisses and his scratchy facial hair peppering along your red hot skin. “Fuck me,” you say around the leather clamped between your teeth. 

Joel laughs into your skin, kissing along the handprints he’s left on your ass. You’re squirming underneath him, pushing your ass towards his face, desperate for him to make you come. His hands grip around your shorts and your whole body relaxes at the thought of him finally fucking you. “I need you to listen to me now, ok?” 

You nod fervently and he lets out an amused laugh. You arch your back at him invitingly, but instead of removing your shorts he yanks them back up. You moan out in protest as he lifts you down from the truck. His strong fingers work to do up your shorts before he spins you. You look like a wreck; mascara smudged under your eyes, cheeks pink, eyes glazed and dopey looking. Cock drunk and he hasn’t even given it to you. He grabs the belt and you release it for him. It’s killing him not to fuck you right here and now. 

His hand cups your chin, squeezing your cheeks and locking eyes with you. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

You try to nod but he’s gripping you so tightly. “Yea? Then you need to do what I say. Ok?” 

“Mm-hmm” 

“Go in there and quit. Then come back out here and I will fuck you so hard that you’ll feel it in your throat.” 

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag  @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @mermaidgirl30

[heartmaddie]

sakusa kiyoomi when you're sick includes fluff , kiyoomi is a cutie , you're in a relationship

sakusa doesn't know what he's doing here.

standing outside your door, tightly gripping onto the flimsy plastic of a convenience store bag which was filled with various medicines and groceries for him to cook. to him, this felt a bit too intimate. showing up to your home unannounced because your classmate told him you were out sick and he knew that your parents weren’t home, so who would look after you if it wasn’t him? 

realistically, he could turn around right now, you didn’t know he was here yet. but there was something unfamiliar which pulled him towards your front door. an unsettling sensation bloomed deep in his chest when he’d imagine you sick, all alone on your bed. 

before he knew it, his legs were pulling him towards your door, he sighs as he presses his finger against your doorbell, hoping that you weren’t sleeping. a couple moments later, the door shifts open and he sees you, bundled in his dark sweatshirt and a pair of large trousers, and his expression softens slightly.

“oh, yn” he mumbles, gently rubbing your cheek, “you look so unwell.”

“why are you here kiyoomi?” you ask, obviously congested as you looked up at him confused. you knew about his aversion to disease, and how he’d go out of his way to ensure that he wouldn’t get sick, so you weren’t exactly sure on why he was here, holding you gently like this.

kiyoomi shrugs nonchalantly and pushes past you, closing the door as he slips off his shoes and neatly places them near the door. 

“i just felt like it, why aren’t you in bed?” he questions, unpacking all the medicines and aligning them in a neat row before moving to wash the vegetables and fruits, looking over at you occasionally.

“i had a really horrible headache, and i couldn’t get to sleep.” you explained, moving to lean your head on his back, gently brushing your fingers against his arm. kiyoomi smiles to himself, looking back at you with a soft expression.

“tired?” he asks gently, curling his fingers against your soft hair. you nod in response, letting out a yawn as you rubbed your face against his back.

“so exhausted, i hate being sick like this,” you complained. he thought you were cute, with your nose red and dry as you looked up at him expectantly, “what are you cooking?”

“okayu.” he states simply, washing the rice efficiently, “you should go lie down on the couch, have you had any medicine today?” he asks pointedly, letting out a deep sigh when you shake your head no. “you should be taking better care of yourself, there’s pei ko on the island bench.”

“i know, but i’ve just been so bedridden today.” you slip away from him, and kiyoomi can't help but miss the comfort of your warmth. he watches as you pour 10 ml of the thick medicine into a plastic cup, before downing the medicine, it’s sickeningly sweet on your tongue, and he smiles when he sees you scrunch your face up. 

“go lie down on the couch while i make this for you.” he sighs, gently pulling you in for a soft kiss before walking you to the sofa, he guides you onto lying onto the couch, pushing your hair behind your ears as he adjusts the pillow behind you. 

you look up at him as he works, letting him pamper you as you feel the weight of your sickness settled in your bones. sakusa kiyoomi was infamous for being a perfectionist, but he let that go when it was just you. he’d gently lay blankets over your body, pressing kisses against your cough ridden lips between each layer.

“okay, just try to sleep while i cook for you, and i’ll wake you up when it’s done. okay?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he strokes your hair, lulling you to sleep.

he promptly moves back to the kitchen, continuing to swiftly cut shallots and occasionally check on the simmering pot as the sea-like smell of dashi powder wafts through the air of your home. sakusa would have a small smile on his face when he heard you sleeping soundly, this was oddly domestic, and he somehow didn’t mind the predicament. 

a half hour later you feel kiyoomi gently nudging you awake, the tray of okayu and a variety of different side dishes on a tray which is laid on the coffee table.

“is it ready?” you asked tiredly, rubbing your eyes as kiyoomi nodded.

“yeah, here.” he passes you a box of tissues and rubs your shoulder when you blow your nose, “ready to eat?” he asks curiously, helping you sit up.

“yeah, thank you. it looks really nice, baby.” you smile up at him, bringing the metal spoon to your mouth. the porridge was warm on your tongue, and had a satisfying light taste. he was good at this.

you sat in silence, leaning against his shoulder as the only sounds which surrounded you was the metal scraping against the wooden bowl. kiyoomi was glad that you seemed to be enjoying the meal he prepared, he would bury his nose into your hair as he held you close, circling his fingers against your waist.

he watches as you set the cutlery on the finished tray and he hums softly.

“did you enjoy it?” he asks curiously, “made your throat feel a bit better?”

“yeah, it was really soothing, thank you omi.” you reply, curling against his chest.

“okay, let’s get you to bed then.” he’d scoop you up into his arms, walking you towards your warm bedroom and tucking you in tight, “i’ll come join you in a bit, i’m gonna clean up first.” but before he could leave you clutched onto his arm tight.

“stay, just for a bit.” you ask, looking up at him with tired eyes, “just until i fall asleep.” 

who was he to say no.

sakusa nods and slips into the bed next to you, pulling you against his chest and wrapping the blankets around you securely. he lets out a deep sigh of relief, feeling his muscles relax in your comforting presence, even if he can already feel his throat tightening with the same sickness as yours. 

“feeling better?” he asks, twirling your hair against your finger as he feels your head shift up and downwards against his chest.

“yeah, a lot better since you got here.” you admit, “it was miserable being home all alone today.” making kiyoomi nod in response.

“sounds boring, i’m glad i came since you weren’t eating your proper nutrients, hm?” he scolds, smiling against your scalp, “it’s how you’re supposed to get better, silly girl,” you nod lazily in response.

“i know, but i was just so tired.” you whine,

“then rest, and be quiet now.” he shushes you, pressing a final kiss to your lips before cradling your head in his arms, signalling that he wanted to sleep too.

sakusa kiyoomi would gently pepper kisses against your temple as he felt your slow breaths rise up and down against him, he’d spend hours memorising the pattern, occasionally matching his breaths to yours. he’d shift his hold on you when you moved around in your sleep, sometimes taking the subconscious initiate to curl against him, wrapping your arms tightly as you’d nuzzle your soft head against him.

kiyoomi didn’t think he was built for this, the domesticity of somebody else in his arms. he was scared of course, it was so him to be afraid of contracting your disease, but he didn’t necessarily think about it this time. you were his priority now, so he was okay with the high chance of having the flu than watch you suffer in your lonesome. maybe the way you’d fit perfectly in his arms every time would make him rethink his innate desires, because kiyoomi had a very individualistic mindset, his whole future was planned out since the ripe age of 11, but maybe he’d want to welcome you into that too. 

! extra

a couple weeks later, you look over to your boyfriend and hear a newly familiar sound,

“a-achoo!” he sneezes, cringing as he wipes his nose, “it’s all over for me” he sighs dramatically, leaning against your shoulder as he seeks your warmth, letting you spoon feed him bits of okayu with poached chicken.

please consider liking, reblogging or following if you enjoyed! i need to nibble on him so bad

[teatreeoilll]

𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝗿𝗹𝘆 𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗽𝘂𝘁𝗲 (𝗛𝗶𝗴𝘂𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗮 𝗛𝗶𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶 𝗫 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿)

˚• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . •

w/c - 2.6k content - MDNI! 18 +, fem!reader, porn with plot, asking a man in a suit to not take it off when he fucks you, not proofread because it's so late rn, hope I'll get to it tomorrow

• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° .•

When Higuruma Hiromi finished climbing up the stairs, moving slowly and sighing until he finally reached his apartment, the walls around the floor were already rhythmically humming.

"Fucking hell," It took every single ounce of strength in his body to turn away from his own door and turn to knock on the neighbors'.

Goddamn it, not him again, you think as you unlock the door, wincing at the passing thought of ever finding the grumpy, tired man waiting outside of your apartment in any way attractive.

"Yes?" You utter, cross-armed with a fake smile glazing your lips.

He stares into the space behind you for a moment before meeting your eyes, "I'm sorry to bother you," you should be sorry for bothering me, "I know we've had this discussion before," about a million goddamn times, "but if you wouldn't mind," before I go insane, "turning down the music?"

"Listen," you drawl, mimicking his calm tone through gritted teeth, "we talked this through already. It's still early, and it's not against the law to listen to music at a reasonable volume in my own apartment."

Higuruma's eye twitched at the words, still trying to retain a neutral expression. The law? You're bringing up the law? Now, Higuruma Hiromi didn't consider himself a proud man, but the next words to come out of his mouth made his self-respect plummet, "I'm sorry, it's just that ever since my wife died, I've been having trouble sleeping."

You blink slowly, your arms dropping to the sides of your body, "O-oh," you babbled, "I'm so sorry, I didn't - I - " the heat rises to your cheeks, "I'm so sorry, uh, I didn't catch your name - "

"Higuruma Hiromi," he adds.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Hiromi; I'll turn it down."

That evening, Hiromi sinks on the sofa like he's carried by angel's wings, relishing in the serene, tranquil, long-awaited silence. But something itches at the back of his mind; he spent too many days in court to know that a lie will always come back to bite.

-

"Shit," you hiss as your groceries hitting the building's floor, apples rolling on the tiles beneath you. "Stupid apples," you grumble as you stoop down, desperately trying to stuff them into your overflowing bag.

"Do you need help?" A voice behind you asks.

"It's fine," you breathe, catching another rolling apple in your hand, "I'm just here, uh, cussing at the fruit."

"I can see that," and Hiromi crouches down to help you, the fabric of his suit rustling as his pale fingers help you pick up the things off the floor.

You unlock your door, pushing it in with your shoulder, and your neighbor follows suit into your apartment.

"Where do I - " Hiromi stands at the entrance, his arms packed with your shopping.

"Oh - uh, " you walk to the kitchen counter, "right here is fine," you fix your gaze on the man unloading your shopping, a strand of hair falling on his forehead as he does. "Thank you."

After he finished, his eyes turn to find yours, and you're not quite sure why you're staring or at what, with your gaze rolling from his suit to his dark eyes, but you manage to conclude that, strangely enough, it's not unnatural to see him standing in your kitchen.

A long moment of silence graces the room before he finally utters, "It's nothing."

You thank him three more times while he exits your apartment, and he brushes off each one. It's only after he leaves that you notice the rapid pace of your heart, and you walk to the mirror to look at your face, standing before it for a moment, wondering how long it has been since you've turned this deep shade of crimson.

-

Oh god, you're so nice.

"I've brought them up for you, I hope you don't mind," you smile at your neighbor, bent over in your too-tight lounge shorts to put a stack of letters near his door, "they just seemed to be piling up."

"You really didn't have to," He mutters, crouching to meet you at the bottom of his door, gathering the letters in his hands.

But you just kept the smile on your face, so soft and considerate the pangs of guilt overturned his stomach. "Oh, and - uh," is my face growing red? "I - I baked some cookies, I mean," you falter, "I mean, I baked too many cookies. Would you like some?"

Maybe he is attractive, your neighbor, with his soft and tired dark eyes; or maybe it's the depth of sorrow you thought resided in them that made the need to help him grow.

It would be rude to decline, wouldn't it? "S-sure," he says - But it's immoral to agree, and the thought fades at the scent of fresh baked goods from your apartment already filling the hallway.

You don't mean to be rude when you walk through his door, setting a small plate of glazed lemon cookies on his old coffee table, your gaze darting to the pile of records on the shelf in the corner, "So, you do like music," you chuckle, eyes fluttering over the names on the covers.

"I do," he admits, the soft lemon cookie melting on his tongue, "But if Sinatra came here and sang while I'm trying to sleep, I don't think I'd like him that much anymore."

You catch his gaze, and your lips twitch for a moment before you burst into laughter. God, he stares at you, thinking you're an almost ethereal sight as you browse his records, perched on his old leather couch, laughing at something he said, with your smile scrunching the corners of your eyes so gracefully he thinks he just might -

"Love?" you ask.

"Yes?"

And you laugh again, "No - I meant, Love." You point at the record sitting on the top of the shelf, "Didn't take you for one to listen to them."

He coughs, a red blush dusting his pale cheeks, "It's a good album."

"It is, I don't think I've ever heard it on vinyl," you say, the palms of your hands grazing your thighs as you lift yourself up from the sofa, "Well, I think I better be off - "

"Would you like to?" He asks.

"Sure."

As you sit there, listening to the soft flamenco-style guitar flowing from the record player, it takes everything from Hiromi to calm the urge to touch you or at least hold your hand, fuck, he'd settle for a brush of your fingers against his own. Tackling these urges, blatantly ignoring the music, his mind replays the same old words he'd read countless times, a thing he usually does when he's trying to take his mind off something; - One sultry evening early in July a young man emerged from the small furnished lodging he occupied in a large five-storied house on Pereoulok S - , and turned slowly, with an air of indecision, towards the K - bridge.* *a/n: the opening line of Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky

-

The faint smile you give him as you meet him at the entrance to the building makes the blood rush to his ears.

"Good evening," you say, and Hiromi thinks it really is much better now.

"Good evening," he answers, pointing at the exit, "I'm out to the convenience, do you need anything?"

You shake your head, "Thank you," you say before continuing the path up the stairs.

It's a frantic knock on the door that startles you once you're out of the shower, and you rush to open it, towel still wrapped around your damp hair.

"Yes?" Your gaze meets a young, short-haired woman, a stack of papers barely fitting in the grip of her hands.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she apologizes, "I must have gotten the doors mixed up, does Higuruma Hiromi live on this floor?"

You nod, pointing a finger to the door next to yours, "But I just saw him leaving."

"Oh, crap -," the woman mutters, "I'm terribly sorry to ask this, but these are for the trial tomorrow," she lifts the papers up a bit, "would you mind if I leave them with you?"

"Trial?" You inquire, already holding your hands out to take the papers.

"Yes, a boy arrested on suspicion of murder and robbery," she sighs, "he won't let it go."

You hold the stack of papers, "Hiromi's a lawyer?"

The woman chuckles, "Oh, ah - yes."

"He works so hard," you think aloud, "even after what happened to his wife."

The woman's brows furrow, "Wife? Oh god, no, Mr. Higuruma's not married."

You tilt your head, your eyes narrowing at her words, "Sorry - uhm, has he ever been married?"

She shakes her head, "Well, I'll just leave these with you; I'll call him so he'll pick them up once he returns," she parts with a curt bow.

-

Loud. Insufferably, overwhelmingly, dreadfully, loud. The music crashes onto the walls, making them buzz so furiously you would have missed the knock on the door if only you weren't already waiting for it.

"Yes?" you scoff at the puzzled lawyer standing at your doorstep.

Hiromi's eyebrows knit together, the music reverberating through the staircase as he asked, "It's a bit loud, don't you think?"

You step away for a moment to find the stack of papers, returning to the doorstep to shove it in his arms, "Why? Will it piss off your imaginary wife?"

Oh, he thinks, and the door slams in his face.

He goes into his apartment and places the papers on the coffee table. He sits down to read them, only to find his eyes skimming over the letters, not quite making any sense of what he's reading with the music playing through the wall and his conscience raging in his mind.

Another knock on the door, and you open it with a huff, "Forgot something?"

Hiromi stands with his arms dangling by the sides of his body, a soft look in his eyes as he mutters, "I'm sorry."

He's just a neighbor, right? A nice one, at that, with a handsome face and kind eyes. Why am I so angry? Why's the music blaring with the intent of ruining his evening? Why's he standing so close -

It's an eternity in your mind, but only a few seconds pass while you think, unconsciously staring directly at his lips. He catches that, of course, he wouldn't get anywhere in court if he wasn't mindful of nuance.

The first thing you feel is his hand grasping at the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly close to him. Next, the soft brush of his lips against yours as he breathes, "Is this alright?"

You don't answer; instead, you grasp at his arms through the fabric of his suit, capturing his lips as a fog settles in your mind, a soft hum running from your mouth to his.

His arms wander on your body while you relish in the softness of his lips; they skim across your lower back to come down and hold a firm grip on your ass when his tongue finally darts into your mouth. "Fuck," he pants, pushing you up against the wall, and you only momentarily remember you should probably close the damn door.

"Hm?" he puzzles when you break away from the kiss, watching you gesture towards the door, "I guess you can be considerate towards your neighbors," and he pushes the door, his tongue returning to your mouth before he even hears the closing thud.

It doesn't take long for him to slide his hand from your ass into your pants, long fingers gliding on your lower stomach, dragging the fabric of your underwear to the side as he rubs circles over your clit. "Don't be so quiet," he hums against your lips when he sees you biting back your moans, "Trust me, no one can hear you through this noise."

"Fuck, Hiro - " you gasp at the feeling of his fingers entering your cunt, one look at his glazed-over eyes and you try to desperately press your lips to his again, but he finds the crook of your neck instead, sucking on the skin there, leaving small bruises while his fingers glide in and out of your soaked cunt.

Each graze of his teeth against your neck makes you clench against his fingers, and he feels himself growing unbearably hard at the feeling, the slight friction of his cock rutting against the fabric of his trousers barely enough to give him some relief.

"Shit, sucking my fingers in like that - " he murmurs against your neck, the pads of his fingers caressing the spot that made you whimper, "You close?" And you feel the knot in your stomach come undone at his words, wetness gushing over his fingers as your body quivers.

You let out a choked gasp when he picks you up from the floor, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Your clothes are discarded by the time you reach the couch, and you're trapped under him, back pressed against the sofa while the fabric of his suit rubs against your naked body.

The jacket of his suit falls to the floor, and his hand reaches to undo his tie, "N-no," you breathe, "Leave it on," you say as your hand works on the zipper of his trousers, pulling them down together with his underwear just low enough for his cock to spring out.

"Dirty," he chuckles against your lips, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. You moan at the feeling, pushing your hips down to take in the tip, "I always liked lawyers," you push a hand up to grip his hair, tugging at the soft strands.

"Did you now?" His muscles tighten as he pushes his cock further into you, rolling his hips to finally bottom out inside you.

"Mhmm," you moan into his mouth, feeling your pussy push against his thrusts, drunk on the soft smell of his cologne lingering in the air.

"Hiro - " you can barely breathe out his name with the feeling of his cock working you open, your hand leaving his hair to grip at his tie dangling from his neck, holding it tightly in your fist.

"God," he groans, chasing his climax with deeper thrusts, "you really do like lawyers," he huffs as your pussy clenches against him, the heat spreading under his skin.

He pulls out, and you whimper at the absence of his cock as he flips you, your head pressed flat against the couch, your ass perked up against his hips. His thrusts feel unbelievably deeper from that angle, his hand reaching to grip mercilessly at your hair to pull your head up.

"Ah - Fuck -," you babble, "Hiro - I - ," your reach a hand to rub your clit, his thrusts a perfect pace to the coiling tension in your stomach, and he anchors his hand on the fat of your ass, fingers digging deeper as he bites back his moans, coming closer to his own release.

"I - Ah -, " and you don't even finish your moan as your back arches, heat coursing through your body as you come, feeling as if you'd collapse if not for his hand holding you up by your hair. His hips stutter, a silent 'fuck' escaping his lips as you feel his seed painting your walls, his thrusts finally slowing down.

He pulls out, releasing the grip on your hair, and you turn a flushed gaze towards him, a dazed smile glazing your lips. He adjusts himself back in his trousers, his eyes falling on the speakers on your table, still ruthlessly blasting music.

"Is this the..?" He motions towards the speakers, and you nod.

He gets up, his hand twisting the volume knob until the white mark on it touches zero. The room grows silent.

Finally, he thinks.

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 4 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: the power outage is still power outing, curses, Jungkook being Jungkook, mentions of being really drunk and throwing up, explicit content: they talk about what happened in ch 3, teasing, some Mario Kart (yes, it has to be in the explicit content section lmao), hickeys, brat!reader, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, degradation (he calls her a slut/pretty little slut), consent king Jeon Jungkook, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, jerking off, talks about having raw sex, protected sex, praise

☆word count: 9.5k

☆a/n: new chapterrrrrrr! Enjoy reading everyone <3 there's a tiny bit of angst if you squint your eyes really hard, but the real angst will hit much later on. Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, February 15th

You wake up slowly, with the rising sun. Your room is dark, cold, yet you’re snuggled close to Jungkook, whose body heat has been keeping you warm all night. He’s still asleep, mouth slightly parted, and you watch him for a few seconds before the events of last night come back to your mind, and you have to shut your eyes to try to forget.

It’s hard. His arm is still draped over you, and it twitches in his sleep. You try to push him away, but he wraps his arm around you tighter, nuzzling his face in your neck. It does something to you that you entirely can’t deal with, and you shut your eyes even harder, trying to ignore the way your heart is acting up in your chest.

You breathe in, the cold air taming the burning inside of you. You exhale slowly, and to your surprise, your heart finally decides to start calming down. You keep breathing deeply for a while, and you reckon it might have worked better than you expected because, next thing you know, you wake up with a start.

Jungkook is sitting next to you, and he offers you a lopsided grin as you meet his gaze, heart once again beating wildly.

“Morning, peach,” he greets you, voice gravelly with sleep.

You force yourself to sit up, and you stretch a yawn away. “Morning.”

“Slept well?”

There’s a teasing glint in his eyes, mischief laced with his words. You know you shouldn’t be surprised. Know Jungkook is probably going to turn you into a blushing mess even more now. Especially as he smirks, head cocking to the side while he awaits your answer.

“Yeah,” you answer, and you look towards the window as his eyes bore into your profile. You take a deep breath, another yawn moving through you before you’re able to look at him again. “Did you?”

“Better than I thought I would,” he admits, and he stretches before lying back down, pulling the covers to his face. It’s adorable, in a way Jeon Jungkook should never be, and you force yourself to not let it get to your mind as he continues, “I usually sleep like shit when I sleep with someone.”

You purse your lips, refusing to give meaning to his words as you say, “Maybe last night helped.”

The lopsided smile is back, and he nods once, sighing in content. “We should lose power more often.”

In the hopes that power would come back during the night, you plugged in your phone before going to sleep. You reach for it on the night table, and even though your room is still freezing, you’re still taken aback that the power is still out.

“Well, we still don’t have any,” you inform him.

He glances at you. “Then we should go back to sleep.”

At that, you snort, shaking your head. Even though your battery is low, you still go to your emails, trying to see if you received anything from your professor.

What you find is a college-wide email informing the students that all college activities are cancelled today and through the weekend, to start again on Monday. Your gaze widens before you glance at Jungkook.

“Power is still out in college, too,” you tell him. “So, no class.”

Jungkook’s smile only grows wider, and he opens his arms for you to come cuddle again. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Your heart is warm. A hearth, in which a small fire has started to burn. It’s soft, cozy, and you worry at your bottom lip as you survey Jungkook. As you try to figure out when you crossed the line, and if it’s too late to pull back.

You figure you can decide later when the power is back on and this bubble outside of time will have burst, and you lie back next to him. His arms, still wide open, look far too inviting, and it takes you about five seconds before you’re scooching into his embrace.

He sighs in content. “You know,” he lets out. “If Tae learns, I’m a dead man.”

Reality crashes harder than a tsunami on a beach, and you try to pull away. Jungkook holds onto you, even when you push on his chest.

“I was just going to say,” he adds so you’d stop pushing him, “that we should keep this between us.”

You nod against him as you finally stop trying to pull away. “Yes, I agree.”

“Good.”

And Tae doesn’t cross your mind for the rest of the morning. Eventually, you and Jungkook decide to move out of the safe comfort of the covers, needing to eat something before you die, as Jungkook jokes. It’s a quick trip to the kitchen before you figure your room is far warmer than the rest of the apartment. You retreat with fruits, while Jungkook grabs a bowl of the food he cooked yesterday.

Watching him eat it cold makes you gag, so you turn away from him to focus on eating your apple and blueberries.

“What?” he says, and he sounds like his mouth is full.

“How can you even be eating that?”

There are a few seconds of silence, while he clearly swallows his bite. “What’s wrong with it?”

You scrunch up your nose in disgust, glancing at him over your shoulder. His gaze is narrowed, eyebrows bunched together over his eyes as he fakes offence, or perhaps suspicion. It makes you snort, and you look away from him before you speak again.

“It’s cold.”

“Wow, is it?” he teases. “Never would have noticed.”

You roll your eyes, forcing your laugh down because Jeon Jungkook shouldn’t be making you laugh anyway. Silence replaces the conversation, and you finish eating in peace, watching the world outside the window.

It looks straight out of a fairy tale. The trees are covered in a thick coat of ice, and they glisten in the morning light as if they are made of glass. It’s beautiful, in an unforgiving way, and you find peace in their contemplation.

Peace in this comfortable silence with Jungkook.

By the time you’re done eating, Jungkook has wolfed down the bowl he made for himself, and you both return to the kitchen to put away the dishes you’d used. Jungkook leans against the counter while you rinse them, arms folded on his chest.

“What should we do today?” he asks.

You cock an eyebrow. “We?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “Unless you want to be alone.”

Your eyes dart to him quickly, before returning to the safety of the spot where the jet of water hits the bowl you’re holding. “What do you want to do?”

“We could go for a car ride,” he suggests. “To charge up our phones.”

“Don’t you think the roads are a little too dangerous right now?”

He plays with his piercing as he frowns slightly, clearly not having thought about this. “Right.” You watch as the cogs work in his brain, and you can’t help the smile that slowly grows on your lips when his features light up. “We can just stay parked somewhere.”

“We’d still have to get there.”

He furrows his brows. “I’m sure they’ve put salt on the streets, we should be okay.”

What he doesn’t know is that you don’t need convincing. You’ve already decided you’d go, mostly because you do need to charge your phone. Not because you really need it right now, but just because the thought of not having it with you feels strange. 

“We’re going?” Jungkook presses as you remain silent.

He must be immune to the teasing glint you know for a fact has taken over your eyes. You sigh, before nodding once. “Sure.”

He beams. “Let’s go!”

His enthusiasm makes you laugh, and you turn the tap off before turning to watch him as he’s leaving the kitchen. 

“Shouldn’t we brush our teeth and freshen up first?”

He stops in his tracks. “Right.” He turns, flashing you a grin that reveals the same dimples you noticed yesterday. “Good luck with taking a shower, though.”

You snort. “Let’s just brush our teeth.”

Which is what you do, Jungkook pushing you with his hips as you stand next to him. You flip him off, and his eyes sparkle as he looks at you.

It stabs right through your heart, and you look away, searching for salvation on the tiles of the floor. It does nothing – reality is just a heartbeat away, and no matter how easy it is with Jungkook right now, you’re very aware that the moment the world returns to normalcy, your relationship with him will too.

And you still don’t understand where this is coming from. Where this easy complicity between you comes from, and why you’ve never really noticed before. Was it because of Taehyung?

It’s a question you ask yourself for the next hour, as you sit in Jungkook’s car listening to music and belting out tunes even though you’re not half the singer that he is. He doesn’t mention it, only laughs along with you before asking you stupid questions about your past, about Taehyung when you grew up and why you decided to move in with them.

He clearly doesn’t like you saying that it was just because it was convenient. It’s clear as spring water, and he pouts slightly as he says, “Not even for me?”

You punch him in the shoulder. “I didn’t know you when I moved in.”

“But now you do,” he teases, smirk moving on his lips. 

There’s more meaning to his words than it seems, and you feel blush creeping on your cheeks. “Do I?”

“I’d say watching me jerk off and come is a good way to get to know me, no?”

“Jungkook!”

He laughs like a child as you flush furiously purple, trying to ignore how, as a matter of fact, his words are actually turning you on. You don’t want to think about last night, just want to focus on the now, on this unexpected friendship.

Jungkook has other plans for you, because he says, “Don’t tell me you didn’t like it.”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

“You’re blushing.”

If possible, your glare intensifies. “Shut the fuck up.”

He dissolves in a fit of giggles that makes your heart skip a beat, and you roll your eyes before glancing at your phone. 

“Mine’s full now,” you mutter. 

For a reason you don’t quite understand, Jungkook has two phone cords in his car, both of them working to charge. He glances at his phone, shaking his head.

“You’re going to be stuck with me for longer, peach,” he tells you mischievously. “Mine’s only on 75%.”

“Do you really need it full?”

He offers you an innocent smile. “Definitely.”

Your phone buzzes, and you both glance towards it. You’ve received a text from Ria, in the group chat you share with the whole friend group. She’s asking how everyone’s surviving, and if anyone needs to crash at the dorm, which for some reason, is the only place on campus that still has power.

You hesitate for half a heartbeat before turning your phone off.

*****

Today was fun, albeit cold. After charging your phones in Jungkook’s car, you took a long walk through campus, just talking about everything and nothing as if you’d always been close.

As if he didn’t finger you with his cum last night.

Whenever the thought resurfaces, it makes you startle, and Jungkook smirks. Because he knows – obviously he does.

He knows the effect he has on you. You think he sees how you tense whenever his hand touches yours, whenever he stands just a little too close. And maybe that’s why you avoided going home for a long time, because you’re afraid that being stuck between four walls with him again will make you go insane.

Alas, when you both grow hungry sometime in the afternoon, you can’t force him to stay out, so you follow him home, ignoring the weight of your turned-off phone in your pocket.

Fortunately enough, on all the journey walking around campus, you didn’t run into anyone from your friend group. Somehow, you were afraid that you would – what would they think if they saw you hanging out with Jungkook?

More importantly, what would Hoseok think? Maybe it makes you an asshole, but in the moment, you don’t really care. You are entirely focused on Jungkook, mostly because it’s easy to be entirely focused on him. As if he’s the full moon in a summer night sky – he makes all the stars hard to see, as he shines too bright for their glow to be noticeable. 

You sigh as you’re settled in the kitchen, door closed as Jungkook reheats something on the stove. It’s not extremely cold in the apartment, but keeping the door shut does help with keeping the kitchen warm enough to be bearable with only a thick sweater on.

You think Jungkook is crazy. He’s only wearing a beige and indigo athletic Nike vest, and he’s left it unzipped because he claimed he was getting too warm. Underneath, a white t-shirt rests loosely around his waist, and you’ve been doing your best to forget just how dainty his waist is, under all the clothes.

“See, we’re going to build up your heat tolerance,” he says over his shoulder, and he flashes you a grin before focusing on what he’s reheating again.

“Good luck with that,” you answer, chuckling. “I’ve tried before, and nothing works.”

“You and Tae really are the worst at that,” Jungkook teases, and you roll your eyes even if he can’t see. 

Indeed, he’s turned his head towards the window, and he watches the sun as it gets lower in the sky, nearing the horizon. You’re afraid of when it’ll be gone under; you’re afraid it’ll elicit sinful activities between you and Jungkook again.

Afraid, yet with a certain kind of apprehension to it. Perhaps because it’s not fear of him, but rather fear of yourself.

It’s hard to remember that he’s Taehyung’s best friend when you’re alone with him like this.

Especially when he sets a steaming bowl of food in front of you, a wicked smile on his lips as he forces you to eat. As you choke on it, the heat too much to handle for you. Jungkook laughs out loud before handing you a glass of ice-cold water.

It barely helps, and the heat remains for a while as you eat, and even more so as you’re done, watching Jungkook eating a second portion as if he hasn’t eaten the first one in record time. You’re playing music on your phone, your usual study playlist – lo-fi beats – and Jungkook seems to like it. He’s been nodding his head to the music as he devoured his bowl.

When he finishes eating, sitting back in his chair as he rests a hand on his stomach, he once again offers you the wide grin. The sun is setting now – the whole kitchen is turning to gold, and you hate that the glow makes him look ethereal, like he’s a piece of heaven fallen to Earth for you to enjoy.

“Do you want to wash yourself?” Jungkook asks out of the blue. You cock an eyebrow in question, but before you’ve had a chance to say anything, he adds, “We could warm some water on the stove and use that to wash ourselves.”

Your eyes widen. “That’s actually a good idea.”

“Come on, peach,” he lets out, and he chuckles as he shakes his head, a little condescendingly. “You really think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

Stupid wouldn’t be the word that you’d use. Arrogant, maybe. Too full of himself, for sure. But you don’t think that saying so would be a good idea, so you only shrug.

“Aren’t you?”

He bursts out laughing, that goofy smile that makes your heart skip beats in your chest as if you’re twelve and it’s the first time you’re speaking to a guy. “I’m not, thank you very much. I wouldn’t be in college if I was.”

“Lots of stupid people are in college,” you point out mischievously.

He tuts. “I’d thought by now you’d know I’m not a lot of people, peach.” He cocks his head to the side, and his eyes drop to your lips. “You get fingered by a lot of guys like that?”

You turn to fire. “Excuse me?”

And the goofy smile returns, as if he didn’t just say the crudest sentence in the world. “Just teasing you.”

You narrow your eyes but don’t find any retort to that. It makes Jungkook’s grin widen, and then he gets up to bring your bowl and his to the sink. As he’s rinsing them, he offers you a look.

“Should I reheat some water then?” he asks, the teasing tone gone. 

You try a look towards him, but standing there, the sun forms too much of an aura around him, so you can barely see him even if you squint your eyes. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“One pot for you and one for me, then!”

His statement makes you laugh, and you get up to actually help him get the pots on the stove. You turn the gas on, using the lighter so that the flames catch, and soon the water is heating up, and the prospect of freshening up brings a smile to your lips.

You notice Jungkook looking at it, features turning somber. And he’s quick to look away. Quick to focus on where the sun dipped under the horizon, watching the clouds turning to gold above.

“Have you spoken to Tae today?” he asks, and the reminder of your brother makes you clench your jaw, ever so slightly.

“No,” you admit. You think he’ll say more, but he remains silent. So you take it upon yourself to make conversation, and you ask, “Have you?”

He shrugs. “Just told him the power is still out.”

“Mmh.”

The silence is deafening then – you can barely hear it over the clamour in your thoughts. And you don’t know where it’s coming from, only that the more the silence stretches, the more you grow unsteady on your feet.

“How did you guys meet?” you ask, voice sounding a little strained.

Jungkook shoots you a look. “He didn’t tell you?”

You purse your lips and shake your head no, which earns you a chuckle from him. It makes you grow suspicious, and you narrow your gaze. “What?”

“Nothing.” He pauses, observes your features for a moment with those big doe eyes of his before he says, “We met Frosh week.”

You remain silent, waiting for him to continue.

“He was pissed out drunk in a bush,” Jungkook admits, and his eyes fog up with the memories as he looks away from you. “Jimin is the one that found him first. And mind you, I only knew Jimin for a few days then, since we were dorm roommates.”

But you know how easy friendship forms in that Frosh week. You and Nabi are a good example of it after all.

“We couldn’t find anyone who knew him, so we brought him back to the dorm. He threw up in Jimin’s bed, and the next day he suggested grabbing breakfast together, as a thank you for taking care of him.”

Jungkook smiles fondly, and his gaze connects with yours. “And the rest is history.”

It sure is. You’re not really sure where you come into this story – if you should come into it at all. Because Jungkook and Taehyung really are close – what would Taehyung say if he knew what Jungkook and you did?

It’s a scary thought, one that you’ve remedied with Jungkook already. You just have to not tell Taehyung, simple as that.

“I think the water is ready,” Jungkook admits, and he dips his fingers in one of the pots. He nods, before saying, “You can grab yours, and go to the bathroom. I’ll clean up in my room.”

“Don’t you need soap?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You know soap can be carried outside of a bathroom? Like, it’s not confined-“

His sentence dies as you punch him in the chest, and he starts laughing as you curse him under your breath, grabbing the pot. 

“Open the door for me,” you grumble as you walk towards it.

“Please?”

You look up to the water-stained ceiling. “Are you for real?”

“Yes.”

You debate silently, though you know that you’ll cave in.

You reckon you’ll always cave in where Jungkook is concerned. 

“Can you please open the door for me?” you ask, and you scold yourself internally for not being able to stand your ground.

“Of course, peach,” he says, grinning widely. “I can actually carry that to the bathroom for you, I need to grab soap and a towel anyway.”

He walks towards you, gently taking the pot out of your hands, so you end up opening the door for him, begrudgingly following him to the bathroom. You follow him in, watching him as he carefully puts the pot down in the sink. 

“Here you go,” he says as he shoots you a look over his shoulder. 

You can’t help but look away as your gazes connect, before mumbling, “Thank you.”

“You could at least sound happy about it,” he teases. You roll your eyes, though a smile teases the corners of your lips. Jungkook taps your cheek, and you bristle, stepping away from him. 

If he cares he doesn’t show it, instead moving to grab a washcloth and his shower gel. 

Are you disappointed to see him go? Maybe. But you don’t let it show, instead shutting the door behind him, making sure to lock it before you strip out of your clothes to wash up.

It’s freezing, and you hate every second of it, so you make it quick, washing the most strategic and important body parts. When you’re done, you move to grab your clean clothes from the…

You never grabbed clean clothes, did you? 

You curse under your breath, mostly cursing Jungkook for making you so stupid around him. You hate it - you feel like you lose most of your brain cells when he’s around. But you can’t help it, and you tightly wrap yourself in a towel as you pray to the God above, if there’s one, to not make you run into Jungkook as you walk back to your room.

Of course, Jungkook opens the door to his room the second you are in front of it. You startle, freezing like a deer in headlights, and Jungkook’s gaze dips to your legs.

You hate the smirk growing on his lips the second it appears.

“What’s got you walking around naked in this temperature?”

Though you reckon his gaze warms you up in an instant, you reply, “Fuck off, I just forgot to get clean clothes.”

He leans against his doorframe, slipping his hands in the pocket of his grey sweatpants. He looks the perfect picture of male insolence, and fuck, it does things to you that it shouldn’t.

Like, make you remember that he fingered you with his cum yesterday. Thinking about it, it was a really stupid thing to do, but you hadn’t been able to resist…

And from the way he’s eyeing you right now, you highly doubt you’ll be able to resist him again. You realize then that the apartment is darkening, that soon you’ll have to light up the candles… 

You’re sinking in quicksands, aren’t you?

“How unfortunate,” Jungkook comments, always so arrogant.

“I said it already, but do really fuck off, JK,” you reply.

He tilts his head to the side - the predator, and you, its next meal. “That’s not what you were saying yesterday.”

You blush, bright scarlet taking over your features, and you roll your eyes, choosing to ignore his comment as you finish walking to your room.

“That’s what I thought,” he says behind you, and you flip him off over your shoulder, which makes him laugh that boyish laugh that does things to you.

You lean against the bedroom door once you get in, heart beating out of your chest, cursing power for going out, and cursing your brother for choosing to do a semester abroad.

It’s useless - the cursing, that is. Because it won’t change anything, and a small, tiny, minuscule part of you doesn’t want it to… so you curse yourself too for good measure.

By the time you finally emerge from your bedroom, the sun has fully set, and you’ve been using your phone as a flashlight. Jungkook is sitting in the living room, playing on his Switch, which apparently still has battery, and he glances at you as you approach.

“Want to play a game?” he asks, offering you a small smile. 

His features are lit from the screen, and he looks soft, his big eyes slightly crinkling at the corners. You hold in your own smile, instead cocking an eyebrow.

“So that I can beat your ass?” you say.

You watch as fire catches in his gaze, and you think he’s about to burn you to the spot. “Oh, you wanna play this game?” he says, his voice suddenly an octave lower.

A thrilled shiver runs down your spine, and you finish crossing the distance between you and him, sitting next to him. The leather couch is freezing, but you hold your wince in as you motion to the Switch.

“You think you can beat my ass?” he asks. 

“I know I can.”

He smirks, leaning back on the couch. He rests his head against the backrest, turning his head towards you. “Oh, peach,” he breathes out. “You’re cute when you try to be sassy.”

You widen your gaze. “Try to be sassy! I’m serious, I’ll beat your ass.”

“In any game?” he asks, and his eyes dip to your lips.

“Mario Kart,” you say, folding your arms on your chest.

You’re wearing a thick sweater, yet it doesn’t stop Jungkook from looking down, and you know exactly what he’s seeing - you, with your legs spread wide open for him like they were yesterday.

“Winner gets head,” he says, and you really think you’re about to catch fire.

“What about Tae?”

You can’t help the question. Because you don’t want to do that to your brother, but you’ve been unable to resist. You know shame and guilt will catch up to you one day - hell, Ria will never let you live it down if she learns what’s already happened. 

Jungkook shrugs. “I don’t think it’d make any difference after yesterday.”

“So you want me to choke on your dick?”

Night and you and Jeon Jungkook really don’t mix well, do they? Because you want him. You want him so bad right now you think you’re about to go insane, yet you know you shouldn’t.

“Fuck, peach.” He chuckles. “I want to know if you taste as good as you look.”

You wet your lips, and his eyes fall to your mouth, staying there as you say, “Well then, winner gets head,” you murmur, and you think he’s about to say ‘fuck it’ and jump on you.

You really do think he won’t be able to resist, and frankly, you don’t want him to. You feel yourself leaning forward, a moth to the flame, but Jungkook clears his throat, and his eyes shoot to yours.

“Deal.”

Jungkook sets up the game, and since you can’t play multiplayer thanks to the power being out and the TV not functioning, you settle on whoever gets first place first. Which you reckon is stupid - getting first place when you’re playing against the AI isn’t really an impressive feat. 

You shiver before Jungkook starts his race, and he pauses the game to glance at you. “Do you want to go to your room?”

You cock an eyebrow. “Too excited to play here?”

He rolls his eyes, though a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “No, you’re freezing, and I figured, since your room is the smallest, if we do like yesterday, we can probably keep it warm. Or at least warmer than here.” His last words are accompanied by a vague motion of his hand encompassing the living room, and you reckon he does have a point. 

“Sure then,” you say, nodding once. 

You get up from the couch, and Jungkook quickly follows you. He’s so close, looming behind you like he’s the predator about to pounce on its prey, and you shudder with delight, warmth pooling in your lower stomach.

You think he knows. You’re convinced he does, because a few minutes later, when you’re in your room with the candles on, sitting on your bed, he leans against the wall, abandoning his Switch to the side.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s so easy to get into your bed, peach,” he teases, and you startle when one of his large hands lightly grazes your thigh.

You swat it away without an ounce of regret, even though the spot he touched feels like it’s been hit by lightning. “Are you saying I’m easy?”

His mouth falls open and he looks surprised, even maybe a little apologetic. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

The wicked smile you offer him makes him chuckle as he realizes you were teasing him, and he grabs his Switch, his brow creasing a little with the frown that adorns his features from concentrating. It’s cute. You reckon it’s adorable, and you reckon you shouldn’t feel that way about your brother’s best friend, so you push the thought as far away as you can.

It’s not like Jungkook is the kind of guy you should feel endearment for. Because you know he’d only break your heart - he’s not the most popular guy on campus for nothing, after all.

“Ready?” he tells you.

You nod. “Good luck.”

He doesn’t need it. He gets first place, and he puts his Switch down on the bed as you realize what it means.

But you’re not going to give in so easily to him, will you?

“If I get first place, too, then this doesn’t count.”

He fake-glares at you, but he shrugs. “Alright. Let’s see if you can get first place.”

The way he says it is ominous, and you gulp, cheeks flushing with pink as you grab the Switch. As per always, you choose Peach as your character, which obviously earns you a snicker from Jungkook, but you don’t mind.

Maybe because you’re starting to like when he calls you peach.

You easily start the race in the first position, Peach racing and drifting ahead of the AI-controlled characters. Jungkook shifts next to you, attracting your attention, and you almost run into a wall, thankfully recovering quickly.

It doesn’t last long. Because next time he shifts, Jungkook brushes your thigh, and you just know he has a wicked smirk on his lips without having to look at him.

“Stop,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Or what?” he purrs, and you nudge him with an elbow. He just laughs, his hand now resting flatly on your thigh. “Got trouble focusing?”

“You’re cheating,” you whine, and you’re hit by a blue shell which puts you back a few positions.

“Am I?” he breathes out.

You sigh as he leans closer to you, and his nose brushes your cheek. Instinctively, you tilt your head to the side, and he chuckles as he pushes your hair off your shoulder, before leaning even closer.

His lips ghost on your neck, and your eyes flutter close, the Switch entirely forgotten in your hands.

“Jungkook…”

His tongue darts out, tasting you, and then he sucks a hickey on your skin. “What?”

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice barely over a whisper.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about my fingers inside of you,” he says, huskily. “All fucking day.” He nibbles at your earlobe, and you let out a breathy sound that makes him chuckle again. “Just been thinking about how you’d feel on my dick too.”

“Fuck.”

“I know.” He kisses your jaw, and then pulls away, sitting back against the wall. “I think you lost.”

You open your eyes, realizing that you’re still holding the Switch. He’s right – the AIs have finished while Jungkook was teasing you, and you stare at the screen for a few seconds before meeting his gaze.

He looks victorious, happy with himself. You want to wipe the smirk off his lips, so you put down the Switch on the bed, kneeling next to him.

“So you want me to suck your dick now?” you say, voice low, and you drag a hand on his thigh.

His tongue toys with his piercings. “Well, wasn’t that the deal?”

Emboldened, you straddle his lap, and you wrap a hand around his throat for support. You feel him swallow, and you lean closer, watching as the smirk slowly disappears from his lips.

“Was it?”

He gulps. He fucking gulps, and you can’t help but bite your lower lip. Even though the room is cold, you feel warm, a tingly sensation slowly taking over your entire body. His eyes fall to your mouth, and it takes him a few seconds before he says, “Yes.”

You have him right where you want him to be. “Damn, who knew Jeon Jungkook wanted me so bad?”

You lean in, brushing your lips on his, tongue darting out to play with his piercings. He doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything, though you can tell that he wants to touch you.

Maybe because you’re perched on his erection.

“Maybe Tae should have left before, mmh?” you continue. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so desperate…”

Jungkook grabs your waist, spinning you around dizzyingly until you’re on the bed and he’s hovering over you. “Enough,” he says, voice rough.

You don’t lose the smirk. “Or what?”

He wets his lips and then leans in. “I’m going to have so much fun wiping that smirk from your lips, peach.”

“Oh, will you now?” you fire back. “Better get into action then.”

One of his hands grabs the side of your head, tightening around your hair, and he forces you to turn your head to the side. He leaves wet kisses down your neck and then moves back up to your jaw. 

“If only Tae knew how much of a slut you are,” Jungkook says. “A pretty little slut.” Your smirk wavers as he pushes your legs apart with a knee. “I wonder, are you already soaked for me, mmh?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

He chuckles darkly. “Fucking hell, you really are driving me crazy.”

And even though you shouldn’t, even though Jungkook is your older brother’s best friend, even though you know guilt will eventually catch up to you, you say, “Then act on it, JK. Show me just how crazy I’m making you feel.”

His mouth collides with yours with force, and you immediately reach up, running your hands through his hair. He sucks on your tongue, earning a moan from you, and he grunts as you pull on his hair, the soft strands feeling like silk on your fingers.

He grinds into you, and you feel the powerful length of him rub against you. You know he’ll stretch you wide open, and you want him so bad it almost hurts.

You think you’ve wanted him for months already. Yesterday, you could blame it on the alcohol, on your inhibition being altered, but today… Today you know it’s always been about the tattoos, the piercings, and the shameless flirting.

You’ve been in Jungkook’s orbit ever since September – you were bound to crash into him someday.

Jungkook pulls away to meet your gaze. The weight of his body on yours feels right – better than Hoseok’s ever felt. The thought douses you, and you think Jungkook notices.

You know he does, because he says, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your eyes flit around his features for a time – his nose, his mouth, the mole underneath his lips, his left eye, the scar on his cheek. They eventually settle on his lip piercings. 

“Are you getting insecure?” you tease. Because it’s all that you know how to do, the only way you can think of pushing the vulnerability away.

His tongue pokes at his cheek, and he presses another searing kiss on your lips. You can’t help but moan softly as he grinds again, and you instinctively wrap your legs around him, your arms circling his neck as well.

When he pulls away next, it’s to rest his forehead against yours. You breathe the same air for a few seconds, until he says, “Consent is hot, peach. Tell me you want it, or I’m stopping now.”

“I want it, JK,” you answer. “I want you to fuck me dumb until my room isn’t cold anymore.”

Jungkook straightens, kneeling between your legs. The candles cast flickering lights on his honey skin, and you watch unblinkingly as he takes off his shirt. 

He’s beautiful. You realized that yesterday, though you didn’t see him without the shirt. But he’s truly beautiful, all muscle and delicate waist, and his skin glows golden under the light of the candles. His brown nipples are perked prettily on his chest, and you want to touch him, want to drag your hands over every powerful line of his body.

“Shit, it’s fucking cold,” he says, and he quickly bends down again. 

You grab the blankets, pulling them on top of him. Without any trace of hesitation, you rest your hands on his back, and you lightly scratch him with your nails.

“Then we better get you warmed up,” you purr.

You don’t need to say it twice. Jungkook finds your mouth again, and he grunts as you dig your nails in his skin, before releasing the pressure. He then goes down to your jaw, down your neck, and he disappears under the covers, spreading your legs wide open with his large hands.

“Can I take these off?” his muffled voice says from beneath the blankets.

You pull enough on the covers to see his face, big doe eyes awaiting your consent. “Yes.”

He smirks wickedly. “Good.”

He’s quick to rid you of your pants. He leaves your panties on, his large hands caressing your thighs as he settles between your legs. You know he’s going to eat you out, and you think you’ll go insane. But nothing could have prepared you for how much of a tease he is.

Indeed, Jungkook presses light kisses on the insides of your thighs, mouth ghosting over where you need him the most, never once giving in to your desires. You’re soaking wet, painfully so by the time you groan, hand flying to his hair as you try to push his head where you want him.

He resists, chuckling darkly. “Growing a little impatient?”

“Eat me out,” you answer breathlessly. “Fuck.”

“Why should I?” He bites the inside of your thigh. “I love watching you squirm under me.”

You whine, yet this time, he licks the wet spot on your panties. Your thighs instinctively close, and he forces them wide open again.

“Don’t move,” he orders.

You try to obey. You really do, but when he pushes your panties to the side and sucks on your clit, your back arches off the bed. 

“Jungkook,” you breathe out. 

He doesn’t answer, too busy pushing his tongue inside you, parting your folds easily. You moan, and your grip on his hair tightens, though you keep him close. And he doesn’t seem like he wants to pull away. He starts making out with your pussy, squelching sounds coming from between your legs with every swipe of his tongue.

Soon, he gets bored of pushing his tongue in and out of you, and he moves back to your clit, circling it unforgivingly. He’s good, that much you’ll admit, and when he circles your entrance with one long finger, you moan again.

“You want it?” he asks, pulling away just long enough to voice the words.

He’s right back on your clit a fraction of a second later, and he sucks on it, flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue.

You feel the orgasm. It’s still far, but it’s on the horizon of your conscience, and you know it’ll hit good once it does. So you say, “Please, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t disappoint. He pushes his finger in, arches it to rub that sweet spot inside of you in time with the motions of his tongue on your clit. You grind in his face by reflex, and he grunts against you as you do so, resting his tongue flat on your clit so that you can pleasure yourself on his face.

He must know it’s not enough. Because after a few seconds of it, he starts moving his face from side to side, and the orgasm looms closer, aiming for you at the speed of light.

It hits when Jungkook pushes a second finger in, stretching you, and your walls clench hard against his digits, though he keeps on pushing them in and out of you in a steady rhythm. He sucks on your clit as you come, and you think you’ve moaned his name at least twice by the time he finally pulls away, drying his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Shit, peach,” he says, and you watch him through the ecstasy blurring your gaze. “You taste so fucking good.”

As if he wants to show you, he captures your mouth in a kiss. You taste yourself, but you’re too fucked out to be able to agree or disagree with him. All you can do is moan in his mouth, and he swallows it with a swipe of his tongue.

 And as he keeps kissing you, keeps branding himself in your mouth, you run your hand on his body, blood boiling from the sheer strength that you know he has. You reach for the band of his sweatpants, going lower to wrap your hand around his clothed length.

He’s big and heavy in your hand. 

Mostly, he’s not wearing any underwear. Or if he is, they are extremely loose, because you’re able to wrap your fingers around him even through the sweatpants. He bucks his hips, and you tighten your hold.

“Why don’t you put that pretty hand under the clothes, mmh?” he teases against your jaw, before he goes to nibbling on your ear. “I’ve been wanting to feel it wrapped around my cock.”

You don’t hesitate. You move back up to the band of his sweatpants, and you quickly push your hand in. You sigh in delight as you find he’s not wearing any underwear, fingers grazing over the velvety softness of his length. He hisses but doesn’t say anything as you test the waters, slowly grabbing his dick.

You lightly stroke him, and he bucks his hips, trying to fuck your hand. 

“Impatient, aren’t you?” you tease him, and he bites at your jaw.

“I’ve been wanting you for a really long time, peach.”

His words make your heart pause in your chest. Because you feel like there’s a deeper meaning, like it isn’t just shameless flirting in the heat of the action. It reminds you of the kiss yesterday, of the way he’d pulled you on his lap with no other intention than to kiss you.

And it makes you tighten your grip on his dick, and he grunts as you start jerking him off faster. But it’s awkward and clumsy with the sweatpants on, so you pull your hand out after a few seconds.

“Take these off,” you say, and he immediately kneels to obey, taking off his sweatpants quickly before resuming his position between your legs.

You’re not sure you were prepared for the sight of Jeon Jungkook fully naked in your bed. Though goosebumps prick at his skin from the cold, he still looks devilish, like he’s about to drag you to hell. His dick stands proud and tall, leaking precum, and the muscles of his thighs strain against his skin. 

He’s big. And not just his dick. Jungkook works out a lot, spends hours every week at the gym, and it truly shows in every angle of him. He looks sculpted in marble, a perfect body that accentuates the beauty of his features, that contradicts the innocence of his big eyes. 

Or maybe what truly contradicts it is the way he fists his cock, jerking off quickly as he eyes you. As he stares you down, and you feel ready to go all over again just from the sight of it.

“You have condoms?” he asks, and he grunts as he keeps jerking himself off.

You have half a thought to tell him to keep going, to come all over you, but you want it too much to resist. So you motion to your night table, saying, “Bottom drawer.”

He nods appreciatively, letting go of his cock so that he can bend and rummage through the drawer until he finds the condoms. He winces as he straightens, a tinfoil package in hand.

“Pretty sure that’s going to be too tight for me.”

You roll your eyes. “Condoms stretch, you know that?”

“Not enough,” he says, flicking your nose teasingly. “But I don’t think we should go raw, so that’ll do.”

Yet, the thought of going raw with him… You grab a hold of his wrist before he’s able to start unrolling the condom on his dick, and he cocks an eyebrow as he meets your gaze.

“Are you clean?”

You see him gulp. Indeed, his throat bobs, and he tilts his head to the side. “Got tested last week,” he admits. “But I really don’t think we should go raw.”

“I’m clean.”

“You’ve been fucking that other guy,” Jungkook says.

“We always wear protection.”

Jungkook purses his lips, taking a deep breath. “Honestly peach, I think I wouldn’t last a minute if I fucked you raw right now. Let me put the condom on.”

He says it in a stern way that makes you let go of his wrist. You feel bad, wondering if you were pushing a boundary, but Jungkook doesn’t seem like he notices. Indeed, he busies himself with putting the condom on, rolling it down his dick, and he winces in pain once it’s all the way down.

“That shit’s fucking tight,” he comments, and then he positions himself between your legs again. His large hands find your thighs, and he caresses up and down once before meeting your gaze. “Are you okay?” he asks, with no lust or desire or anything other than concern for you.

Because of course, he’d notice that you’re feeling bad.

“Sorry if I was insisting…” you say, vaguely motioning to his dick.

He looks down at himself. “About the condom?” He waits for you to nod your head before he says anything else. “Peach, don’t worry about it. I’m seriously close right now, which is really fucking weird, and I just want to be able to make you feel good, m’kay?” He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You melt, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. He chuckles, mumbling against your lips, “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but you really turn me on.”

You think you know what it is. You don’t think it’s about you, or about him. It’s rather about the feeling of doing something you shouldn’t be doing. Of doing something forbidden, because he’s Taehyung’s friend, and you’re Taehyung’s younger sister. 

But you don’t say it. Instead, you whisper, “Then fuck me good, Jungkook.”

He lets out a breathy sound as he leans his forehead against yours. There’s something so intimate about the gesture that you feel your heart soaring in your chest, and then he pushes your ruined panties to the side again so that he can nudge your entrance with his dick. 

“I will,” he promises, and then he pushes in. Just his tip, yet your mouth falls open at how large he already feels, and you tighten your hold on his neck. “Let me know if it hurts.”

Unforgivingly, Jungkook slams all the way in. You let out a broken sound, and he quickly captures your lips in a kiss as he stays right there, deep inside of you, unmoving so that you can adjust around him. And you know you have a lot of adjusting to do – he’s so large it burns, yet the pain feels good. Far too good, and you easily understand how Jungkook got the reputation that he has.

When Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, he slowly pulls out, before pushing all the way in again. Your walls suck him in, and he grunts, leaning his forehead against yours once more.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You feel so fucking good.”

Before you can reply, Jungkook establishes a steady rhythm. Nothing too crazy, but the drag of his dick on your walls is making you see stars, and you softly moan as he keeps moving, never once faltering.

“Moan for me, peach,” he breathlessly says. “I want to hear you fucking screaming my name.”

And then everything changes. Jungkook kneels between your thighs, pulls your legs against his chest, and starts pounding into you, bending down just enough to hit the sweetest spot inside of you. The change of rhythm and position makes you cry out, and your walls clench around him.

He echoes your cry with a moan of his own, something breathless that makes you want to look at him, to stay with him like this forever. So you open your eyes, and the sight of him is nearly enough to make you climax right then and there. 

Yet you don’t. You don’t come as you just watch him, watch the way he’s frowning, teeth digging in his lower lip once in a while. Beads of sweat quickly appear on his temples, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t falter, not even once, as he fucks you, and you feel that familiar knot forming in your lower stomach. 

You still don’t come. You keep it in – you don’t know why. You just enjoy the moment, refusing to rush towards its ending. Instead, when Jungkook pushes your legs open so that he can bend down and kiss you again, you welcome him in. You wrap your legs tight around him, keeping him close, and you scratch at his back with one hand, the other getting lost in his hair.

He grunts in your mouth, and he finally switches the rhythm, aiming for harder yet slower. It makes him reach new depths, and you can’t help but moan loudly as he keeps going, keeps ramming into you.

For the first time ever since you moved here, your bed slams into the wall from the force of Jungkook’s thrusts. It’s hot, especially as he moves to your neck, sucking hard. 

“Best fucking pussy,” he says in your ear. “Fuck.”

And then he straightens again, forcing you to let go of him, before pulling out. You whine at the sudden loss of sensation, but he just looks down at your pussy, licking his lips at the sight.

“You’re so fucking creamy and wet,” he tells you. “Look at my cock.”

You obey, looking down to where your bodies almost meet. His dick is indeed covered with your juices, and Jungkook gently pushes it between your folds, collecting even more juice. It’s sinful, inherently so, and you moan lightly as he rubs his dick on your clit.

“Think you’ll be able to come for me again?” he asks.

You look up, meeting his gaze. His lips are slightly parted as he breathes in and out quickly, and he smirks wickedly as you nod, once.

“Make me come,” you say, finding some defiance in you again. “You think you’ll be able to do that for me?”

His gaze widens, and then he chuckles. “Fuck peach.” He chuckles again, slightly shaking his head. “I’m going to get addicted to this fucking pussy of yours.”

You whine as he moves from between your legs, lying down on his back. You shoot him a look, and he motions at his body as if in invitation. It makes you laugh, yet you still climb on top of him, grinding on his dick.

His eyes go to your chest, and he gently grabs the hem of your shirt. Even though it’s still cold in your room – though warmer than before – you quickly take off your shirt, wincing as the cold air hits you head on. 

“So pretty,” Jungkook praises, and his hands reach up to push your breasts together. “So fucking pretty.”

You blush slightly under the praise, and you’re about to sink on his dick when he stops you. Your eyes go wide, and he motions to your panties.

“Take these off too. I want to see all of you.”

He says it with so much reverence for you that you can’t say no. You can only obey, sitting next to him just long enough so that you can remove the panties. They are soaked, and you throw them towards the dirty clothes hamper before climbing back on top of Jungkook.

Your gazes meet, and there’s a moment of you watching each other. You wish you could read his gaze, wish you could know what it means when he grabs your wrists to pull you down. Your eyes never disconnect from his, not even as one of his hands goes between your bodies so that he can align his dick with your entrance.

And then he pushes up, pushes in. As if you forgot just how big he is, you moan, eyes fluttering shut on instinct. Jungkook grunts, wrapping his arms around your waist, before saying, “Look at me.”

You do. You meet his gaze again and try to hold it as he starts jackhammering into you, the new angle so good you feel like you’re slowly slipping out of your body, soaring towards the sky outside. It’s so good all you can think about is him, his body, the way that he holds you so gently yet fucks you so rough. You rest one hand on the side of his face as he keeps fucking you, and when you can’t resist anymore, you hide your face in his neck.

“You’re such a good girl,” Jungkook says. “You take me so fucking well.” He grunts loudly, slamming to the hilt. You think he’s coming, but then he pulls almost all the way out, before slamming in again. “I never want to stop fucking you.”

You moan, and then your lips ghost on the shell of his ear. Though you’ve been struggling to speak, you say, “You’re so fucking big.”

“I know,” he breathes out. “Let me know if I hurt you.”

You whine. “Never. You’d never hurt me.”

His grip on you tightens, like he’s trying to say he wouldn’t hurt you, wouldn’t be able to, and then he’s fucking you again. The knot in your stomach comes back in full force, especially as he starts whispering filthy praises in your ear, growing more breathless with every swipe of his hips.

Just when you think you’ll come, Jungkook grunts, “I’m going to c-“

He never finishes his sentence, but the feeling of his dick twitching inside of you as he stills deep inside makes you fly over the edge, and your walls start spasming around his cock, milking his orgasm. It feels far too good, like you’ve reached nirvana, and it takes you so long to come down from your high that you believe you never will.

But you do. You do, and the first thing you notice is the cold. Though it’s a lot warmer than it was when you started this whole ordeal, you still shiver. 

Jungkook gently pulls a blanket over you, before circling your waist again. He doesn’t let go, not even as his dick, now soft, slips out of you. He lets you lay on top of him, ear against his chest so that you listen to his heartbeat, refusing to move.

You don’t want anything to pop this bubble of peace. Never. You just want to stay here with him, content breathing in the same air as him, until eternity flashes in front of you. Until you grow old and grey, to go to sleep forever. It’s a powerful feeling, though you like to tell yourself that it’s mutual. That his heart, beating softly in his chest, beats for you, in time with the beats of your own heart. You hope that he, too, doesn’t want to let go, though you reckon that this probably was just a hook-up to him, something he’ll be proud of, yet keep to himself. Because wouldn’t Jungkook be the kind of guy to be proud he bagged the little sister? You think he would.

And the thought scares you more than you would ever dare to admit.

Prev | Chapter 4.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Is it me or is it hot in here? oof- Let me know what you thought of this chapter! I hope that smidge of angst at the end doesn't scare you too much...... bc trust me it scares me OOP

All rights reserved to@/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[obsessiveimpulses]

Sleepless Nights

summary: yuuta cant stop thinking about you

cw: masturbation, somnophilia , choking, pervert yuuta , cumplay?

an: srry if u couldn't tell by now i clearly have a thing for guys masturbating (is that even a thing .. well is now ig)

☆°•

Everyone had always wondered why Yuuta looked so tired all the time. His big puppy eyes were slightly swollen with deep purple bags resting right beneath his lower lashes.

Everyone always wondered... but you knew why. And the reason? It was much more sinister than the simple lie he gave, "Oh... my mind is always racing before bed."

It was late at night, and you were already fast asleep nestled close to Yuuta. His body just grazed yours as the summer heat lingered in the air.

The heat was no bother for Yuuta though - his thoughts were somewhere else. His lie of "too many things to think about to sleep" was sort of true. He just couldn't stop thinking about fucking you.

You laid there so beautiful to him, your mouth was ajar a little bit of drool seeped out. It made him so happy that no one else got to see this cute vulnerable side of you just him, only him. His eyes gazed down your body starting from your soft lips and followed down your neck. Marks from last night claiming your body trailed down your neck and finally ended in your collarbones.

His eyes trailed further following the curve of your back leading right down to your soft plush ass. He sighed. His view was blocked by your soft cotton panties, and his eyes glistened with hunger as he noticed the lace trimming. He imagined himself crawling over on top of you. Slowly peeling your panties down to reveal your bare butt he would massage your shiny skin with his mouth. His wet spit would remain giving you a glossy look.

Before he knew it, he was softly rutting against the mattress. Small moans poured from his lips. His teeth pierced his bottom lip as he tried to keep quiet; a metallic taste filled his mouth.

Trying to not be loud he covered his mouth with his hand. He wouldn't want to wake his princess from her slumber - no matter how much he'd desire to plow down deep into you. He would never want to corrupt you with his perversion. His ruts became rougher as he became more desperate for your touch. He imagined it was your thighs he was rutting into.

How strange it felt craving for your lust when you were right there. But he couldn't ever tell you how much of a pervert he was. How hard his cock got from just looking at your soft thighs. How much precum spilled from his cock just thinking about the way your hair framed your face as you slept. How could he have such perverted thoughts while you slept peacefully next to him?

He rutted against the bed his dark blue briefs covering his pale cock adding a layer of friction between himself and the rough mattress. His face contorted, furrowing his eyebrows in pleasure, if only you could see him now. How lewd he must look with his hand covering his mouth as he grinded himself against the soft mattress.

The thrill of getting caught rushed into his head. If only you opened your eyes now to see the lewd image beside you. How submissive he must look so desperate for you. You'd make him beg, beg for forgiveness, beg for you to fuck him.

As he grew closer to the edge, his ruts became rougher and harder, almost as though he was trying to fuck a hole into the mattress. He wanted his flesh against your flesh like a fucking animal.

The hand covering his mouth stifled his moans. Although it made it hard to breathe, he enjoyed it. The slight dizzy feeling it gave him made him feel euphoric as his orgasm drew closer. He thought to himself; perhaps he should do this to you so you could feel as good as him. He imagined his long cold fingers around your neck, watching as your face turned red in pleasure. The fabric against his cock became too much for him as the warm feeling grew into a tingle going up the spine of his cock.

His cock throbbed with the visceral overwhelming building of pressure. He wanted, no, needed to cum right now as his eyes rested upon your lips. The world dampened around him as recurring jolts of pleasure ran in and out of his cock. His moans became loud despite the muffling of his hand as he cried out for sweet release. His cock twitched as streams of white seeped out; it began staining his briefs. Beautiful whines and moans sang from his lips, only to become muffled by his hand clasping his face. He continued softly humping the bed, riding out his orgasm as his cock softened.

Slowly, he removed his hand from his mouth. Small pants escaped his mouth followed by winces due to his sensitive cock being brushed against the mattress from his movements. He reached down and scooped his cum up onto his fingers. Proudly, he inspected his cum drenched fingers before lifting them up to your mouth. He gently pushed the tips of his fingers into your mouth. Instinctively, you softly sucked his fingers. Fuck... even unconsciously you knew how to please Yuuta.

His cock hardened once again. Fuck no wonder I can't sleep, he thought.

And so with the bed shaking, the bitter taste in your mouth in the mornings, and the constant morning woods Yuuta had, how couldn't you know?

[honeydjarin]

MOUSE IN THE KITCHEN

OPLA SANJI X SHORT!READER

Luffy isn’t the only one with a penchant for sneaking into the kitchen.

request: Hiii, if you want to I'd like to request a Sanji x short reader, where they try and help him out in the kitchen but can't reach anything. No pressure, just wondering

genre: fluff

word count: 2,000

a/n: normally I avoid any sort of specific physical features in my fics in order to make them as inclusive as possible, but as someone who must climb the shelves at the grocery store in order to reach anything, this request spoke to me. This one is a little silly and nothing but fluff. I hope you enjoy!

It’s late. The sun sank below the horizon long ago, leaving no trace of the adventures and games that took place during the daylight hours. Everyone else on the Going Merry is asleep. You really should be sleeping too, and you had been, not too long ago. 

You don’t know what it is that stirred you from your slumber. Perhaps some noise as the ship rocks on lazy waves, or a crew mate talking just a bit too loud in their sleep. It doesn’t matter, really. What does matter is the thoughts that worm their way into your mind the longer you lie awake. Thoughts of something light, something sweet, something to satiate a craving, your body convinced it’s time for breakfast despite your mind knowing dawn is hours away. It doesn’t take long for the hollow ache in your stomach to drive you from the comfort of your hammock and up towards the galley.

You know the kitchen on the ship well. You know which floorboards creak and which are safe to step on, where the chef hides traps for Luffy and how to circumvent them, where all of the ingredients to satiate your sweet tooth are hiding. 

Just thinking about the reason for your intimate knowledge of the ship’s kitchen is enough to send heat racing up your neck and settling beneath your cheeks. You press your fingers to the skin where your burning blood pools beneath the surface, taking a moment to relish in the sugar sweet feeling of a simple crush—a single name swirling through your brain is all it takes to leave you giggling quietly in the night.

Sanji, the newest member of the Straw Hat Crew. Sanji, the one who will never let another go hungry, not even a stranger. Sanji, the man with sun soaked hair and a honey dipped tongue. 

Sanji.

Sanji.

When the chef first joined the crew, you admired him. He was caring and steady, he knew what he believed in. With his handsome looks, quick wit, and open flirtations, it didn’t take long for that admiration to slip into something that felt sweetly like affection. You couldn’t help but want to spend more time with the cook, hoping to join him in the activities that bring him the most joy so that you might better understand him. It didn’t take long for you to become nearly as familiar with the galley as he is. 

You step into the kitchen, closing the door quietly behind you. You leave the lights off, not wanting to risk anyone else catching you in the galley (or getting the idea to grab a snack themselves). Instead, you stand in the dark, waiting for your eyes to adjust. Moonlight spills through the windows of the room, bright enough to see by, if you’re patient. 

It isn’t long before you’re able to move again, walking along a familiar path towards where Sanji stores all things sugary. 

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that you’re doing something you shouldn’t. Like if you have to sneak around then you’re in a place you don’t belong. This is Sanji’s space, cataloged and organized to best suit his needs and ensure the crew has enough supplies to last between islands. It feels strange to be in the kitchen without the sound of his laughter or the smell of something delicious cooking on the stove top. 

Sanji’s presence is the piece that makes this space feel so comfortable. Without him, it feels too large, hollow. The galley has no life without its chef. You never really thought about how the kitchen would feel without him in it, and can’t help but hope it isn’t a feeling you become used to.   

You know if you wake up the cook he will make something for you. He would rub the sleep from his eyes, only half succeeding, before asking what he could make to help satiate your craving with a smile. You would feel guilty the whole time. 

It’s better to sneak through the galley for something you can find on your own than to disturb Sanji’s sleep. 

The first thing you search for is chocolate. You crawl onto the countertop, balancing on your knees as your feet dangle over the edge, before opening the cabinet in front of you. You eye the chocolate chips, the miniature sweets sitting at a level seemingly so easy for the rest of the crew to grab. You doubt any of the others would have to climb to reach them. 

Unfortunately, the only chocolate on the shelf is unsweetened. The lack of added sugar may be perfect for baking, but they won’t be sweet enough for your taste on their own. 

You begin to drop down from the countertop, fully intending to continue your search for the perfect treat. Your feet drop to the ground quietly, and you land in an almost crouch. Perfect, the ship is silent, as it should be. You straighten up, intending to continue your search, but your knees, still tight from your recent slumber, crack as you stand. The sound rings out in the otherwise silent kitchen like a gunshot. 

Maybe your creaking joints wouldn’t be a problem in a normal kitchen, but Sanji, who has ears attuned to any slight sound coming from the Galley (thanks to Luffy’s many attempts to raid the space at odd hours for food), surely heard the pop in his sleep. You may as well have knocked down all of the pots and shattered all of the dishes. 

It isn’t long before the sound of hurried footsteps and frustrated grumbling reaches your ears. The door to the galley slams open, lights flickering on just a moment after, leaving you squinting as your eyes adjust to the room once more. 

“Luffy, I swear if you touched any of the food I’ll—oh.” Sanji’s voice carries through the kitchen, his accent thicker than normal, sleep still clinging to his words. Your name rolls off his tongue, and you think it sounds sweeter in his sleep-addled voice than any chocolate could taste. 

“Sorry, Sanji. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just a little hungry,” you confess. 

“You could have woken me up,” he says, just like you knew he would. “I’d have been happy to cook something for you.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you. You deserve to rest. Especially when you already wake up so early each morning to make breakfast.” 

Sanji hums, stepping farther into the kitchen. He looks more awake now than he did when he first arrived. His eyes don’t stray from your own as he speaks, no longer concerned about the state of the galley. 

“For you, love, it’s never a bother.” The smile he offers you sends your heart fluttering in your chest. “Anyway, I’m awake now. What would you like to eat?” 

He’s too good to you, too gentle. How could your heart ever stand a chance?

“I was just planning on eating a little chocolate, but it seems like there's only the unsweetened kind right now.” 

“Ah, of course. Only something sweet would be fitting for my sweetheart.” 

Your breath catches in your throat. His. He called you his. 

You bring your hand up to your mouth, trying to hide the growing grin that spreads on your lips as you nearly melt from his words. The warmth blossoming in your chest will surely turn you into a puddle on the floor, and then Sanji will know just how much his words affect you (if he doesn’t know already).

“Can we make something with chocolate in it?” you ask.

“We?” Sanji repeats, as if he didn’t expect you to help him in this task. His gaze softens, eyes gleaming with something like affection, before adding. “Of course we can. How do strawberry and chocolate hand pies sound? I picked up some fresh jam at the last port.”  

“It sounds perfect,” you say. It’s far more than you hoped to find during your late night search. When you got out of bed, you never would have guessed what kind of sweet you would find in the kitchen. You definitely didn’t expect to spend time baking with Sanji.

The two of you work comfortably together, only speaking when Sanji provides specific instructions or when you need clarification. The hazy fog of sleep still hovers over the both of you, even if you’re both awake enough now to function.

“Could you grab the chocolate chips for me?” Sanji asks. 

It’s a simple request, one you can easily complete. You know where he keeps the chocolate chips, the unsweetened treat seeming much more appealing now that they’re going to be baked into something.

You make your way back over to the counter, situating yourself below the cabinet where the chocolate is stored. Then, you place your hands on the cool surface, preparing to make the climb. You’re certain Sanji knew this was the path necessary for you to take to reach the ingredient too. There’s no way for you to reach the chocolate chips without being higher up. 

As you jump, using the force of your arms to help pull yourself up towards the counter just like you’ve done in other kitchens many times before, an unexpected force settles on your shoulders, pushing your feet back towards the ground.

“None of that, sweetheart. There will be no climbing on the countertops in my kitchen,” Sanji reprimands. He’s gentle in his scolding, the uptick of his lips and gleam in his eye letting you know he’s not really mad. “Sorry, I thought they were a bit lower.”

He doesn’t seem sorry. 

You open your mouth to protest against what could only be meant as a jab about your height, but only a squeak comes out. Sanji’s warmth seeps into your back as he presses close, the shape of his hand burning into your hip as it settles there. You can feel the way his body stretches as he reaches up, leaning further into you, before easily grabbing the bag that seemed so far out of your reach. Any words you might have had to tell off the man for doing something for you when you could easily do the task yourself (as long as you could climb on the counter) fizzle out. 

Sanji doesn’t look at you as he reaches for the chocolate, but the easy smile on his lips morphs into a lazy smirk. His thumb rubs slow, intentional circles where his hand remains steady on your hip, as if he was soothing a startled animal, coaxing you to stay close instead of running away, something you just might have done if he wasn’t purposefully grounding you while your thoughts soared. 

Oh no, you think. He knows.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Sanji was already aware of your feelings for him—you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve—but you had tried not to make your feelings for the chef too obvious. 

Sanji pulls the chocolate chips down, but he doesn’t step away. He still holds you close as he bends, his face lowering until it’s right beside yours. Then, without warning, his lips are pressed to the curve of your cheek. 

The kiss is quick, feather-light, but you’re certain he can feel the way your blood burns just beneath the surface of your skin, his quiet mumble of so warm the only confirmation you need, even if you weren’t meant to hear. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, I just couldn’t help myself.” Before you can react, Sanji steps away from you, taking you in for only a moment longer before turning back to the task at hand. With how smoothly he acted, there’s no way he hadn’t planned that little stunt he pulled.  

He definitely knows.  

Sanji is already placing the hand pies in the oven by the time you’re finally able to move again, and you can’t help but feel almost frustrated that the chef didn’t give you a chance to return his affection. 

You’re left waiting impatiently as he sets the timer, the miniature pies now the last thing on your mind. Sanji doesn’t seem to understand—you’re craving something sweet, and as far as you’re concerned, the sweetest thing on this ship is him. 

a/n: thank you for reading〜♡

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (22/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: trauma, pregnancy-related conditions, some type of suicide attempt, dark visions, the angst, nightmares ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"Rȳbās." Her father said. "Repeat."

She saw his face clearly – his narrow eyes, his short white hair combed back, his expression full of boredom and fatigue, which, however, she was not the reason for.

"Ribās." She mumbled, wiggling her short legs as she sat on his lap, looking at the large book in which were written a multitude of words in a language she had never seen before.

Her father sighed.

"No." He said, readjusting her on his lap, feeling her begin to slide downwards. "Rȳbās. Again."

"Ribās." She repeated after him, confident that this time she had said the word correctly.

"Who gave him permission to be with her? To cross the threshold of my fortress without my permission?" She heard her mother's enraged voice behind the wall.

Her father sighed heavily, closed the book and threw it carelessly on the table. He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up, placing her on the floor; she caught his hand, refusing to let him go.

"Ribās. Ribās. Ribās." She repeated, following him, hoping it would stop him.

"Stay in the chamber." He commanded, so she let him go with eyes full of tears and turned back, bursting into sobs.

He had only just arrived, and was about to disappear again.

She hoped he would return and waited for him, lying covered in thick furs in her bed, however, eventually her eyes began to grow heavy and she fell into a deep slumber.

She thought she felt in her sleep as someone touched her head, someone's lips placed a warm kiss on her forehead, the smell of her father filled her lungs.

When she found out the next day that he had returned to Dragonstone, she burst out crying.

"You should be grateful to me, not wailing. I'm tired of your perpetual weeping. Perhaps you would rather he took you with him? Targaryens have many strange customs. Fathers lie in bed with their daughters, for example." Said her mother, busy eating the roast of a deer she herself had hunted the day before.

She closed her mouth at her words, quivering all over, staring blankly into her plate.

She was awakened by an unpleasant feeling – a spasm in her stomach and a sensation as if she were suffocating. She raised herself up on the sheets in the darkness, unconsciously reaching for the dish standing next to the bed. She only had time to lean over it when she vomited, panting loudly and coughing.

She shuddered all over, terrified, when she felt movement behind her, someone's hand touching her shoulder.

"Hāedar. Again?"

In response, she vomited again, louder this time: her stomach squeezed tightly, and she closed her eyelids, trying to survive it.

The silhouette of her father beneath the water, his white hair, his hand stretched towards her, her arrow thrust into his neck, his heavy armour pulling him down – when she grasped him, she had the impression that something had flashed across his face.

A mixture of regret, shame, pleading, as if he wanted to convey to her in that moment everything he hadn't told her over the years. Her heart squeezed at the thought that she saw tenderness in that gaze: that he recognised her as his child, and perhaps he always had.

Perhaps she had never truly understood why he had fled then until now.

And then he let her go.

She burst out crying and shook her head, leaning forward, breathing heavily through her mouth, overwhelmed by this vision, this memory, by the fact that she had been mistaken.

She didn't see her husband's death in her dreams, but her father's.

She felt his face pressed into her neck, his warm, moist lips placing soft, light kisses on her skin to comfort her, his broad hand stroking her arm.

"I'm here. I'm here." He repeated.

She wanted him to do something that would make her shout at him, take it out on him, hate him: she wanted him to say that it meant nothing, that she was being dramatic, that it was a simple, ordinary, feminine weakness that she needed to stand up to. This was what she had expected from him: this was how he always reacted to his own failings, being a harsh and unfair judge in his own case.

He, however, was quiet and calm, full of an understanding from which she felt a discomfort in her stomach.

She was sure that it was a mask and that it would eventually break: that her many days of silence and hysteria would eventually drive him mad, that, tired of her constant despair and the fact that she did not even look at him when he spoke to her, would make him finally descend into the dungeons and find relief in the arms of the beautiful Witch of Harrenhal.

Some part of her wanted him to do it: she wanted him to give her a reason to run far away from him, to abandon him and everything that came with him.

"The Maester has arrived in the fortress. I have ordered him to examine you tomorrow. It worries me that this keeps happening every night." He whispered, snuggling into her back at last, embracing her with his arms around her waist.

His hands did not reach her breasts – he did not try to take her or kiss her on the lips. He held her close and stroked her but did nothing more, as if he knew she would push him away.

She sighed and closed her eyes, knowing what that meant.

That he would find out.

She did not, however, have the strength to object.

"Your wife is expecting your child, Your Grace." Said Maester the next day after he had examined her body closely.

She saw her cousin twitch, his face, previously passive and calm, tense in shock, his eye open wide. He looked at her after a moment, in his gaze the question she had long known she would hear from his lips.

"Leave us." He said.

Her heart pounded like mad in terror as the Maester left the chamber – she played with the soft fur that covered her body clad only in her nightgown, wondering why she was afraid.

She had felt nothing but pain for days, so this sudden new emotion was shocking to her.

He's going to kill me, she thought.

"How long have you known?" He asked.

The tone of his voice was not aggressive, but she heard a hint of irritation in it.

She swallowed hard, feeling that she was having trouble concentrating, finding the right words.

How long had she known?

"The witch told me I was carrying your son, but I didn't confirm it." She muttered.

"But you had a premonition, didn't you?" He continued, a note of pain and regret in his voice.

She merely nodded her head.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you wouldn't take me with you."

Her husband let out a loud breath and turned away, pacing around the room as if trying to calm himself, overcome by many extreme emotions at once.

"How could you hide this from me?"

"You didn't ask."

He turned abruptly towards her and stopped, his lips pressed into a thin line with rage.

"It's my fault, then?" He hissed, clearly losing his temper.

She swallowed hard, lowering her gaze to her hands.

"That's not what I said. It's just that if you had asked me, I wouldn't have lied to you. But then you'd be dead and I'd be left fatherless and husbandless." She said dispassionately.

Her cousin looked out of the window – she could see out of the corner of her eye that his chest was rising and falling in heavy breaths.

"You made a fool of me." He said.

She did not answer him.

If he thought so, that was his concern.

She didn't have the strength to think about it.

She shuddered when he suddenly moved from his place and simply left, closing the door behind him with a loud slam of old wood.

She swallowed silently as she felt the heavy tears one by one begin to run down her cheeks, her breath stuck in her throat.

She knew it would happen sooner or later, and she was relieved to finally have it behind her. A crack, a rift between them, something that made him pull away from her – she figured he'd been looking for an excuse for this for a long time, and now he'd found the perfect one.

She lay back on the bedding and hugged her face to the pillow, staying in that position until she fell asleep from exhaustion.

When she opened her eyes, there was darkness all around her – she recognised in the shapes she saw before her her chamber in Harrenhal. Her bed was cold – a strange feeling of disappointment ran down her spine when she turned behind herself and saw that he was not lying next to her.

That he hadn't forgiven her.

Maybe he was with her now, she thought.

She felt an unpleasant discomfort in her stomach, from which she felt the urge to vomit again – she restrained herself and stood up, heading barefoot towards the door.

The stone Harrenhal was cold and dark – she was surprised that there were no torches burning in the corridors and no guards all around.

In fact, it seemed to her that the fortress was deserted.

She blinked, intrigued, noticing the warm light of the fire in the distance, coming from behind the door of her husband's chamber – some strange kind of relief spread through her heart at the thought that he had not abandoned her. Her quiet footsteps echoing around her, the dripping of water in the distance and the sound of the wind accompanied her on this short journey, but the closer she got to the room, the louder other sounds came from it.

His panting.

She would recognise it was him anywhere – she had heard it too many times – that distinctive heavy way of breathing, interrupted by grunts and low groans of pleasure. As she pushed gently on the door, just enough to see anything, she saw his body bare from the waist down, his nails digging into Alys' buttocks so hard they created bruises.

His thrusts were aggressive, brutal, deep, fast, devoid of tenderness or even desire.

Her green eyes found her in the darkness, the corner of her mouth lifted in a smile, from which she felt that sickening feeling in her stomach again.

She stepped back and vomited – one time, then another – her hand found the wall to prop herself up, to escape, to get out, to disappear, whatever that meant.

She hated him.

She hated her.

She wished she had stayed with her father.

She was unable to find her way back to her chamber – instead, narrow, dark corridors led her outside, to a godswood, surrounded by a ruined stone wall. A red, contorted, tear-streaked face looked straight at her, as if it understood her. Her gaze fled to the side – to the space between the stone bricks which was empty, looking like a gateway to a black abyss.

She moved in that direction, thinking that this was what she wanted.

She knew he would betray her.

She knew it from the very beginning, and yet she believed him anyway.

After all, she had begged him not to take her as his wife only to humiliate her later.

But his pride, as always, was more important.

Perhaps their bastard child will rule Harrenhal, but my child will not become his tool, she thought, climbing higher on the remains of the wall that once stood there – looking down into nothingness, she felt terror – her heart pounded like mad, doubt flashed through her mind.

I don't want to die.

Why are they forcing me to do this?

My husband, my father, my mother.

Wasn't I worth being loved truly?

Didn't I deserve to be chosen by someone?

"Hāedar! Come back here!" She heard a voice behind her and blinked – when she looked around, she saw that she was not standing in a godswood, but on what must once have been a tower, standing at the very edge of it. The height from which she was looking down frightened and petrified her, her body began to tremble all over – there was nothing around her that she could grasp.

"Hāedar, turn to me and give me your hand." She heard his voice behind her again, this time pleading and breaking, as if he realised what was about to happen.

"I saw you. You and her." She muttered.

She heard his silence, his heavy breath full of consternation.

"What?" He asked.

"If I had known you would betray me so quickly, I would never have married you." She howled, feeling tear after tear begin to run down her face.

The wind around her was searing her body to the core, her legs scarred from the sharp stones.

Why hadn't she felt this before?

"You enraged me and I set off for a ride on Vhagar's back to cool off. Sheepstealer wailed from afar, so I returned." He explained, and she swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat run down her back as she heard a loud screech in the distance, and then her dragon flew over her head, clearly terrified of what she was about to do.

How could she not have heard him before?

The chaos in her head made her involuntarily turn and look at him over her shoulder, wanting to compare what she saw with his silhouette, his face, his expression, anything that would betray him.

He had his hands raised at the level of his chest, his right arm extending more towards her than his left, as if he wanted to grab her but was afraid to make a move – his healthy eye was open wide in terror, the other was covered by a black eye patch, on his body a long leather riding coat and gloves.

How was he able to change so quickly?

She felt her breath become laboured – she shook her head, taking an involuntary step backwards, towards the precipice.

"You are deceiving me. I know what I saw." She mouthed, and he drew in deep breath as she wobbled and squealed, struggling to catch her balance – he grabbed her by her nightgown and pulled her to him hard, so that she hit his chest with all his strength.

She wanted to push him away, but he wouldn't let her.

And then she felt it.

He didn't smell of intimacy, spend and feminine moisture.

He smelled of dragon and sweat.

He fell to his knees and she fell with him – his arms embraced her tightly, pressing her into his body, his face sinking into her hair.

"– gods – oh, good gods –" He wailed in trembling voice.

It was the first time she had seen him in such a state – he curled up like a small child, and she involuntarily embraced him.

"– I didn't betray you – ever – it's this place – these people – they are cursed – I can feel it in my veins –" He choked out with difficulty, breathing hard, shaking all over as she did.

She closed her eyes, feeling a strange kind of relief.

He wasn't here.

"So who did I see?" She whispered.

"I don't know."

Her husband wanted her to show him the way she had reached this place, but everything looked different. She couldn't recognise a single corner – the corridors were no longer cramped and dark, but spacious, full of lit, bright torches.

How could she have not noticed them?

She swallowed hard when she finally spotted the door she had opened then – it seemed to her that there were only a few steps from it to her chamber.

"We are in the other part of the keep. You may have seen a guard with some servant girl. It happens, hāedar. You are in mourning, in addition you are carrying a child inside you. You are overtired." He said, stroking her back.

For some reason, his calm voice, his understanding, the fact that he wasn't mocking her, comforted her.

She nodded, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I want to sleep in your chamber tonight."

Indeed, when they arrived, she realised that their quarters were right next to each other and she didn't have to travel such a long distance from one door to the other – when she stepped inside, she also remembered that the furniture of his chamber was quite different from what she had seen.

It was as if someone had made her lose focus for a moment, hoping to let that cruel dream lead her.

"That witch. She said that if I wasn't here, you would have taken her the very first night. That you would have begotten a bastard child." She said dispassionately, walking around his room, running her fingers over the top of the table.

Her husband snorted.

"Of course. All that's left for bastards is to give birth to other bastards and hope that the rich father shares his golden coins with them." He grunted, tossing wood into the hearth, thoughtful.

"It must be tempting. The fact that every woman wants your child inside her, and you can have her." She stated.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and shook his head, as if he didn't believe what he was hearing.

"And what of it? Aegon begat bastards with half of the whores of King's Landing. If he had been by his wife's side instead of drinking when Daemon's men came to kill his child, perhaps Jaehaerys would still be alive. He blamed me in front of everyone, as if I was his father, because he couldn't look at his own reflection." He said with a disgust that sent a shiver along her spine.

"If you had married Floris. Would you have remained faithful to her?" She asked calmly, without irony or mockery.

Her cousin sighed, still crouching in front of the fire, lowering his gaze to his fingers.

"I would do everything in my power to keep her and my children safe."

"But you would have had lovers." She concluded.

She saw him shrug his shoulders.

"And you? If they forced you to marry some young lord. Would you have had lovers? Would you refuse me?" He asked with a kind of resentment from which she felt a sting in her heart.

She lowered her gaze, realising she didn't know the answer to that question.

"I wouldn't want to humiliate him. I guess I would try to stay away from you to avoid tempting fate." She whispered.

Her husband grinned.

"Big words. My mother used those too for many years." He hummed with mockery. "Either we want someone or we don't. I never wanted Floris. But I began to desire you very quickly."

"You didn't know what would happen to me then." She mumbled.

She heard with surprise that he laughed at her words.

"And what has happened to you, wife? You weep, you despair, you are silent? You have lost your father. Shall I require you to smile, to speak to me, though I myself, after I returned from Storm's End, sat locked in my chamber for weeks? I didn't want to see anyone, hear anyone. My grandfather showered me with advice I didn't ask him for. He called me a fool, as if he thought I didn't understand what I had done, how much I had destroyed. I wanted revenge on Luke, I wanted him to finally pay me for all of his doings, but did I want to kill him? I've been asking myself that question ever since. It occurs to me that when I realised I didn't, Vhagar's maw crushed him and his dragon. She felt my hatred, my bitterness, and devoured him against my orders, as if she knew I was lying." He said, staring into the flames, immersed in his thoughts and memories.

She stared at him in disbelief, silent, surprised that he had brought up the subject of his own free will – they had never discussed it, and she dared not ask, afraid of how he would react to it.

She didn't care if he wanted to kill him or not.

Time could not be turned back.

Nevertheless, the fact that he was using his experience to understand her made her feel a familiar warmth in her heart for the first time in days.

When he looked at her she swallowed quietly, as if caught off guard.

"Tell me what you need and I'll give it to you." He whispered.

She pressed her lips together, feeling tears under her eyes for some reason – they were not tears of sadness and grief, however, as they had been in recent days, but of emotion, of a sense of understanding, of knowing that he really intended to comfort her.

She wasn't ready to return to their intimacy, to this sudden act that was consuming her whole – something about the thought of it frightened her, the feeling that she would burst into sobs or change her mind in the process, leaving him with nothing but frustration.

"I'd like to lay my head on your thighs. I wish you would embrace me and stroke my hair." She mumbled in shame, for some reason feeling that what she said was pitiful.

However, she saw in his gaze that he understood her and that something in that thought pained him.

Was this what he was looking for in a brothel?

Was this what he needed from that woman?

He stood up slowly, pulling off his gloves and coat, placing them on the table top. He approached her, extending his hand to her – she took hold of it and allowed him to guide her towards his bed.

He sat down on it in a half-lying position, pulling his boots off his feet first. He unfastened his tunic and slipped it off his shoulders, laying it over his thighs so as to create something soft for her to lay her head on.

"Come here." He hummed.

She climbed obediently onto the bed and lay with her back to him, so that her spine snuggled into his lower abdomen and her cheek laid against the smooth leather material. He spread his legs so that her whole body fit between them – in some subconscious reflex she pulled her knees up to her chin, feeling safer in this position. She closed her eyes as his broad, warm hand combed through her hair in a gentle motion, repeating the movement again and again.

"Sleep. I'm by your side." He whispered, his other hand covering her with warm fur. She felt him lean in, his full, moist lips placing a kiss on her temple, his arm embracing her entire figure, locking her in a secure grasp.

All she could feel was his closeness, his calm breath on her face, his fingers playing with her dark curls, his gentle lips pressing against the skin of her face again and again.

"You are my only friend." She whispered involuntarily – when she heard herself say those words she felt a single, lonely tear run down her cheek.

He was the only one she could speak to honestly.

Only he understood her.

Only he fought for her.

Only he believed in her.

Only he cared for her.

And although she loved him as a husband, a brother, a lover, he, another man made of flesh and blood, exactly like her, was the one she loved the most.

She was at the worst, most difficult time of her life, and he was there for her, patient and tender, full of an understanding she had not expected from him.

The cruel, cold man she had seen for the first time that day, locked in the dungeon, had shown himself ready for such deeds, such words, such sacrifices.

She felt his arm press her tighter against his body, his face sinking into her neck.

"And you are mine."

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 7)

Word count: 2100

Warnings: smut, oral, fingering, mommy kink

Taglist:@stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi @ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet @polaris-likethestar @ahintofchaos

A/N: hope this was worth the wait ;)

Sleep alright? is the text you get from Agatha the next morning while you’re getting ready for school. Heat runs through you at the very thought of her and you know she’s completely ruined you for anyone else. Memories of last night, of her kissing you, marking you, claiming you, flash through your head as wetness begins to pool in-between your legs. 

You think Agatha might be the death of you. 

Not really, thanks to you. You had spent the night tossing and turning, begging for the fire in your stomach to die down so you could get at least some rest. But it didn’t. You had been so sensitive that even the slightest brush of fabric against your clit when you moved while trying to sleep was enough to make you moan. And then when you had finally drifted off, she was there too, doing everything that you wanted and more. But you had been a good girl for her and somehow resisted the urge to touch yourself. 

She sends back a winky face emoji and I’m always happy to keep you up all night. Damn her and her innuendos that make your face flush. 

You pull the collar of your shirt over, admiring the dark red bruise she sucked into your neck last night in the mirror. A thrill spikes your heart rate and you get an idea. 

You raise your phone and position it so you can snap a picture highlighting the hickey and the taunt veins in your neck. Before you can think too hard about it, you send it with the caption: Think anyone will notice this? 

I hope they do, sweetheart. They should know who you belong to. 

Fuck, that’s hot. Can I come over today? You need her more than air at this point. You are so consumed with the thought of her and you’re not sure anything can put that flame out. 

You have school and no more skipping. 

What about after?

You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you, baby girl? If you’re a good girl today, I’ll think about it. 

You chew on your bottom lip, arousal coursing through your veins. It’s far too early to be this turned on. I’ll be so good for you mommy. 

Agatha begins to type but then the three dots disappear. You curse and hope you didn’t step over the line. 

Your mom calls your name from downstairs, startling you out of your thoughts. “You’re going to be late!” She calls up the stairs. You check the time, swear again, throw your computer into your bag, and run down the stairs. “What were you doing up there?” 

“Nothing, sorry,” you lie hastily. You can’t imagine the truth of dirty texting with your step-mother going over well. “I’ll see you later.” You grab an apple from the bowl on the table and scurry out of the house. 

It isn’t until you’re sliding into your seat in first period when you check your phone again and see a missed text. It’s a picture from Agatha and at first you can’t tell what it is. You click on it so it becomes full-screen and immediately slam your phone face-down on the desk so loud that everyone looks at you. 

“Sorry!” You squeak, picking your phone up and holding it up close to you. 

It’s a picture that Agatha took while laying in bed, the camera pointed away from her face toward her bent legs clad in sweatpants. And her arm is reaching down and under said sweatpants. You cannot get the picture of her touching herself out of your head now. 

Wish you were here to make mommy feel good is the accompanying text. You cannot be doing this at school. But how can you resist?

You almost gave me a heart attack. I’m in class. 

That’s not the only thing I can give you. You can practically hear her purring through the phone. 

What are you thinking about? You watch the bubble indicating her typing with bated breath. 

About how you should be paying attention in class. 

You roll your eyes but see that there’s no point in trying to argue. You guess it’s nice that she actually cares about how you’re doing in school but you don’t hear a single thing any of your teachers say for the rest of the day because you’re too busy thinking about Agatha. 

The second the last bell of the day rings, you call her. She picks up almost immediately. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure, sweetheart?” Her raspy voice sends shivers down your spine. 

“What are you doing right now?” 

“Hmm,” she says thoughtfully. “I just got out of the shower and I’m about to get dressed.” 

“Well, don’t,” you say, your initiative shocking both of you. “Is my dad home?” 

“Look at you, kitten, taking control.” She sounds amused. “He hasn’t been here all day and I’ve been so lonely. I had no one to help me out with a little problem I was having so I had to take matters into my own hand.”

Your breath catches. “Can I come over?” Your voice is low, gripped with desire. You’re fully ready to beg if she makes you. 

“Only if you’re going to make it worth my while.”

“I will,” you promise and it comes out needy. The thought of tasting her and feeling her hands wound tight in your hair has kept you close to the edge all day and now you can’t physically wait any longer. 

“I’ll see you soon then.” She hangs up and you all but sprint to your car. You can’t believe this is finally happening. 

You speed the entire way, throwing your car into park and racing up to the front door. It swings open before you even knock, Agatha clearly just as impatient. She’s wearing a robe that comes down mid-thigh, the neckline low. You can see that she’s not wearing anything underneath. 

The moment you step inside, she presses you against the door, her mouth capturing yours in a dominating kiss. Her lips move with raw hunger, tongue licking into your open mouth. 

“Fuck,” you moan into her, hands grappling with the tie holding her robe together. She breaks the kiss only for a second to take your shirt off and then she’s right back on you. She unclasps your bra and her hands cup your breasts, rolling your nipples with her fingers as you let out little gasps. You finally get her robe open and drag your hands over her smooth skin. 

“Upstairs,” she mutters against your mouth and pulls you up the staircase, pausing halfway to shove you against the wall and kiss you senseless like the thought of waiting is too unbearable. 

She leads you into her room – is it weird that you find it sexy that she’s going to fuck you in the bed she shares with your dad? – and pushes you down onto the bed. You watch in awe as Agatha shrugs off her robe, taking in her naked body. You saw hints of it in the darkness last night, but seeing it now, she is so much better than you ever could’ve dreamed. 

“You’re so hot,” you breathe. Her cheeks redden and she helps you take off your pants until you’re just in your underwear. 

“Did you behave last night?” She asks, stepping in-between your open legs and standing over you. Her hands rest on your thighs. 

“Yes, I didn’t touch myself. I wanted to so badly though.” 

“Good girl,” she says in a low voice and you clench around nothing. “Do you want to know what I was thinking about today?” 

You nod so hard it hurts. Her fingers start to ghost up and down your legs. You’re literally aching. 

“I was thinking about you spread out nicely for me, like you are right now. About how you would feel around my fingers, about the noises you would make as I tasted you. How pretty you’d sound while begging for mommy to fuck you.” There’s a glint in her eyes as she tells you this, enjoying the way you’re squirming below her.

You think you might be dripping onto the bed. 

“Would you like that, baby girl?” 

“Yes, mommy,” you whimper. 

“Have you learned your lesson from last night?” 

“I belong to you,” you repeat. She nods her approval, a hand moving to stroke you over your underwear. You mutter a curse under your breath. “Please.” 

“‘Please’ what, baby girl?” Agatha asks innocently. “Use your words for mommy.” 

“Anything,” you say, frustration leaking into your tone. “I just want to feel you.” 

“Why didn’t you just say so?” She leans down over you and licks a hot stripe up your stomach, your back arching off the bed in pleasure. She kneels on the floor in front of you and lifts your hips so she can peel your underwear off. You then watch with your mouth agape as she tugs them down your legs with only her teeth. 

You think you could get off on that sight alone. 

Agatha kisses her way back up your thighs, suckling on the inner flesh, leaving matching marks to the one she left on your neck yesterday. At this point, you’re shaking with need. 

“Mommy,” you whine, hands fisting in the sheets. 

And then her tongue is delving through your folds and you keen loudly. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so turned on right now. Her hands dig into your thighs, keeping them open as she circles her tongue around your clit. You’re practically in tears with how good it feels. 

She brings you to the edge and then backs off and then repeats that a few times. Your hips are moving on their own, seeking out the pleasure you need from her mouth. 

And then she stops entirely, pulling away. The bottom of her face is drenched. 

“No!” You cry, still grinding up on nothing now. 

“You poor baby. So needy,” she coos, standing up and moving so she’s straddling you. She reaches down in-between your bodies and slides a finger swiftly inside you. You moan loudly, your fingers scrambling to grab onto her. 

But she smirks and pins both your hands above your head with her free hand. “Maybe next time I’ll tie you up,” she muses and the threat makes your stomach twist hotly and she sees the expression on your face that tells her you’d be more than willing to do that. 

And then she starts to move the finger that’s inside you.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so tight,” she grunts, picking up the pace of her thrusts. She squeezes another finger in you and curls them just right every time, hitting that special spot. 

“I’m close,” you choke out and she laughs. 

“I haven’t even been fucking you for five minutes,” Agatha mocks. “Is mommy making you feel good?” 

“So good, I love your fingers inside me,” you babble, getting closer to your peak. Her thumb reaches up to rub your clit in tune with her thrusts and you think this is the closest you’ll ever get to heaven. 

Your step-mom leans down and kisses you roughly, sliding her tongue in your mouth right as she gives you one hard thrust and that’s it for you. 

You cum with a loud gasp, her name the only thing you can say. She keeps fucking you until you have to physically beg her to stop because it’s too much. 

She sticks her wet fingers in your mouth and watches with rapt attention as you bob your head around them. 

“You’d look so pretty with my strap-on in your mouth,” she says wistfully, her other hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face. She smirks at the way you inhale, your cheeks tightening around her fingers. “Would you like that, sweetheart? Getting on your knees and sucking mommy’s cock?” You nod, eyes wide and looking up at her. “Of course you would.” 

She pulls out her fingers with a pop and smears your saliva all over your cheeks. 

“Can I taste you now?” You ask, enjoying the way Agatha’s eyes darken. 

“Can I sit on your face, baby?” 

You moan in approval and she’s climbing up your body when she suddenly freezes. You open your mouth to ask what’s wrong but she shushes you. Your brow furrows and you listen carefully. 

There’s the faint sound of the garage rumbling from downstairs and a look of panic has settled over Agatha’s face. 

Your dad is home. And you’re in bed with his wife. 

[thatlittlered]

lovefool | aaron hotchner

warning(s): 18+, detailed description of sexual acts (m!masturbation) under the cut!

GIF by @scuttling

previous parts

author's note: feast on this, my metaphorical children, because more and better things are coming very soon. I also made a masterlist for your reading convenience.

Follow me @MadeofLilies at Ao3 and let me know if you want to be tagged here.

-.-.-

Aaron finds himself quite disoriented when he wakes up next to you. Smooth cotton on his cheek, mellow morning light peeking through the blinds. The warmth of a soft body prevails over all. Chests touching, limbs entangled. It is almost becoming too warm under the covers, or it might just be the rush of realization.

The lovely smell of your freshly washed hair brings him closer; so close that he might nudge your cheek with his nose if he moves a single inch but he doesn’t dare. It would be the first ever act of intimacy between you in daylight.

You must have felt his breath on your face because you stir until there’s no space left between you. There is nowhere to look but in each other’s eyes.

It should feel weirder than it does.

He looks so young under this light; his face littered with moles that you would like to kiss. His hand dares to move to your eyebrow and settles the hair there tenderly before moving downward. The touch of his thumb might as well be a kiss when he’s tracing your cheekbone, your nose, your mouth.

“Good morning.”

His voice is hoarse and it makes you laugh.

“Good morning, Aaron.”

Neither of you wants to move, but you decide to take the plunge, “I’m going to make some coffee, okay?”

“Okay.”

He takes his time getting up, looking around your room for more pieces of you to remember. He is drawn to your vanity where your perfume and hairbrush lie. You’ve left out a toothbrush for him; ever thoughtful.

When he finally joins you in the small kitchen, you’re a sight for sore eyes and you smile when you see him, pushing a steaming cup of coffee his way.

“Are you hungry?”

He sits so sweetly across from you on the kitchen island.

“I’m okay, thank you.”

Your feet touch, but neither of you moves away.

“You don’t eat breakfast?”

“I have cereal with Jack, mostly because he asks me to.”

The ease with which he had touched and kissed you the night before has dissipated, ephemeral confidence melting away to leave behind a man unsure of what to say or do. He wishes you had met a long time ago, when he could have given you the best parts of him. His best now is… meager. Those parts of him seem long gone, or more accurately, forcefully taken.

Now everything is an impossible decision to make. Every moment of intimacy comes with the fear of imminent darkness. He must dare to break way.

“We have cereal.”

You get up to grab the box from the shelf and when you turn around, he’s almost caging you between the counter and his body. His hands are on your face again, holding you in place so he can kiss you with the taste of coffee on his tongue, which begs for entry.

You both willfully ignore the tension building up between your bodies and how easy it would be to give in completely right now. It’s too soon, way too soon. He was simply taken with the smallest bit of skin that had peaked through when you reached to grab the box; wanted to remember what you taste like, to break away.

His hands are still on your face as he speaks, forehead to forehead.

“I can’t stay long; I have to pick up Jack from his aunt’s. I promised him we’d spend the day together.”

“That’s okay, I understand.”

He kisses you again but lingers, one last taste before he has to go.

“I would really like to take you out to dinner on our next day off.”

-.-.-

The days that follow are torture. You’re all drowning in backed up cases and the endless stream of paperwork that follows. The peaceful night of sleeping in each other’s arms and the coffee laced kisses are but a distant memory amidst this chaos.

Yet, in the rare moments when everything slows, it’s hard to keep his eyes off you, especially today. Especially when you’re wearing that red blouse. Aaron’s seen it before, appreciated it just as much as then against your complexion, but there’s something exhilarating, sinful about having seen it hang in your closet. It puts everything in a new perspective; this tantalizing secret between the two of you waiting to be realized again and again and again, if he can help it.

If only you had the time.

It takes all the self-restraint he can find within him not to approach you at the hotel. It would be easy, so easy, wouldn’t raise the faintest suspicion if he just knocked on your door after hours and you could talk – just a little. But, he can’t. He won’t. There are still limits.

Emotional exhaustion is a trap, with the mind begging for rest and the body ignoring its pleas till collapse. His body begs for you. Pleads to be held and kissed and gently lulled to sleep now that it knows the feeling.

The shower pressure is sharp, unkind, nothing like you, but the warm fog that follows… he can almost see before him the soft plane of your bare shoulder, the drops of water on your collarbone. He had not dared to look past, but he can only imagine and oh, he does. He could have surrendered himself completely, laid on top of you in the small bathtub in a mess of clothed and naked limbs. He could have allowed -begged of you- to touch him, feel any part of him you wanted to and then grant him the gift of doing the same. The smoothness of your wet body under his hands, the desperation in your kisses.

He can almost feel you on his fingertips right now, so, he gives in. Takes himself in hand to relieve the almost painful feeling. It’s muscle memory really, there should be nothing truly sensual about it but he can’t keep the images out of his head. His body recalls every detail of your touch and his mind takes advantage.

Images and feign sensations of your feather light touch on his stomach, trailing down to pay attention where he most needs you to. Your thumb presses delicately on the head, teasing him into a desperate awakening of his every sense. He is leaking for you already and you don’t let it go to waste, dragging your thumb up and down slowly until his precum spreads all over. It makes it easier to go further, pull the extra skin down gently and enjoy the sheer magnitude of him.

He jolts in your hand at the movement, but stays perfectly still after in fear that you will stop. You wouldn’t, not ever. A large vein runs on the bottom part of his cock and you can’t help but trace it, watching the way he reacts. He jolts again, begging for more, more of whatever you can give him and you take the hint. Your hand wraps around his base completely, enveloping him in softness he would die for, before beginning to move up and down in long, slow motions.

You kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck and he is about to collapse in front of you, nothing but a desperate, needy mess for you to play with. He is painfully close, can’t possibly even keep his eyes open and you can tell, so you go faster, harder. He comes with your name in his mouth.

Everything slows down from there. The spell of the warm shower fog once again wears off and when he opens his eyes, it’s painfully clear you’ve taken over his whole existence, so much so that he must fantasize about the things he’d like to do to you, and things he’d like you to do to him, in order to get through the night.

Come morning, when you’re all gathered in the jet and going home, he can’t look you in the eye.

You notice.

[lustlovehart]

uhm uhm uhm maybe,, SOMETHINF angsty Y/n x Twst Character because I’m craving angst :33

prompt; Y/n adores [TWST Character], and [TC] ignores it. Ignores all of Y/n’a affections. As time passes Y/n slowly loses all of those feelings and then [TC] starts gaining feelings for Y/n. They know, they know it’s too late. But they need You, they can’t let go of you.

Characters?? ;; Riddle, Azul, Kalim OR one of them! I know ur suuper busy so I don’t wanna pressure you that much. It’s okay if you make the story short, I don’t care! I’m just happy you took the time to read this! Take caaareee 🫶🫶

—🐍anon (the first one to comment on ur recent post wink wink)

Jellyfish Flow to Tide, Never to Heart

A/n: I won’t lie, One of my favorite angst prompts has always been the “Noticed too late” plot device, the idea of what could’ve been had you seen it earlier is so heart-wrenching to me (ಡ‸ಡ) Also, thank you for the take care comments!! You guys are so sweet <3

Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x Reader, Ft. Jade Leech

Warnings: Angst,You fall in love with someone else when he realizes his feelings, Jade’s a cuck, Jealousy, Attempted Kissing, Azuls very pathetic in this one, Spelling errors

You’re sat in front of Azul as he diligently counts this months expenses and gains. It looks mostly like complicated math, but… you’ve been looking into accounting in hopes of Azul looking at you the same way you do to him.

You were the first one to check up on Azul after his overblot, the twins a close second. Nonetheless, you were still first. You’re the one who attempts to genuinely talk to the real Azul, not the suave “benevolent” businessman he presents himself as.

Yet you’re attempts to pursue fall flat each time.

“Would you like to schedule a meeting? Is that why you’re here?” his cerulean eyes gaze over his glasses to take a glance at you, his eyes searching for a reason to your presence, thought he doesn’t find one, as you don’t have one.

Except to see him.

“I… I want…!”

“Pease make it quick Jellyfish, I have other attendants to meet.” Jellyfish, a name he assigned to you at the detail of your deamenour. Venomous, yet pretty to look at.

It makes you heart float like one.

But there’s not time for that. In your desperation, you make a choice you should never resort to, but in your defense, it’s what came to mind first.

“I…! I wanna make a contract with you…!”

The business man in him perks up at the suggestion, but falls back down to earth when he remembers you don’t have much to offer. But, there is one thing.

“My benevolence has left me besseeched, tell me what you want, and i’ll tell you my exchange.”

“Go on a da… hangout.” you quickly save yourself from a straightforward confession, only narrowly doging through the little piece of anxiety with fear.

“… That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

His cautious reply reminds you of when you first visited him in the infirmary. You were rooted to the side next to his bed, insistent on seeing him to the end of his treatment.

It was admittedly a pain to him, having you spout endless positivity his way, placing your hands on his skin to help ease any injuries he catered from his overblot. You touch was soft, gentle, a stark contrast to the dark ink that cradled him deep within. It’s unsettling how very out of touch you are to the group of students at Night Raven College.

When he awoke from his long sleep, the feeling of a warm palm enveloping his own made him quirk an eyebrow, his vision squinting to look down at your face nuzzled into his skin, only being strirred by the touch of a single finger flicking you awake.

“You’ll have to pay me a good fortune in order to use me as your pillow.”

“Too bad i’m broke.” you already know he’s gonna offer you to grace him with a different reward, but your expectations are proven false when he only sighs, sinking into the plush pillow under him.

He hasn’t let you go yet. His warm limb, typically adorned with a leather glove, is bare, naked possibly. Holding hands with him could even be scandalous. This sense of vulnerability made you wonder, just what is the true Azul like? You’ve seen a glimpse behind that counterfeit display of his, but not enough to truly gauge him.

“Azul, we should go out.”

“… How direct.” He thinks you’re joking. “We can do that when you wish to form another contract with me.” But you’re not.

“Aww, and I thought you’d change…” You weren’t kidding, but you play off of him as if you were. “Are you sure you’re as benevolent as you say?” The door behind you quietly creaks open, neither you nor the aquatic patient notice the sound.

“My, it’s rude to be mean to a recovering patient you know.”

“This recovering patient seems well enough to start scamming though huh?”

“Not scamming, just business.” Those four words, were the second moment that stirred your interest in Azul. It was then, you vowed to become closer to the man you hold hands with in that room.

You’re ready for whatever piece of skepticism he’ll trade you. He only pays you a sigh before snapping his fingers, the familar golden scroll coming into view.

“For 3 months, i’ll accompany you in these outings, providing for the funds necesary, though, with my benevloence, this deal can only be broken when you’re satisfied with my service. In return, I want the plant Crowley has been secretly cultivating within your dorm.”

“… Those…? Aren’t those used in love potions…? What do you need that for?”

“Someone’s been paying attention in class— kind of. It’s more so enamor rather than love.” His gloved hand airs the scroll forwards, the thin slip falling into place, your eyes scanning for any sign of vague wording. You may have a deeply festered infatuation for him, but that doesn’t mean you’re foolish enough to dive in without warning.

“Same thing. Still doesn’t answer why you need it.”

“We’ll save it, for a rainy day of course!”

You’re not sure if he means for himself, or for a client. Either way, you got what you wanted.

“Y’know… I know I asked to hangout, but I wasn’t expecting you to go all out…” your bottom awkwardly shifts on the cushioned chair beneath you, the leather squeaking at your movement.

“Nonsense, I only provide the best.” Yes, because the best, is the Mostro Lounge all empty.

It’s deserted, but you can see the effort he went through for it. The lights are dimmed, and the table you’re both sat at is covered with a pretty tablecloth, readily made food adorning the surface. Even the man on the other side of the table is dressed in a fancy suit, different from his typical cafe uniform.

You thought it was just gonna be talking about regular mundane things, not an expensive dinner for heavens sake. You feel so out of place inside, still adorning your loose fitting pajamas.

“The best…? I’m not sure, would’ve been the best if I dressed for the occasion…”

“Why? I want you to be comfortable, besides, you look quite nice all the time.” You don’t want his words to fluster you, yet you can’t stop the creeping warmth that invades your face at his statement.

“Then, I think you should change out of that suit and join me.” It’s his turn to track back, his eyes slightly widening before flaling back into their usual shape.

“That would be improper.” His hands stiffen when you reach out towards him, your warm palm now rubbing circles into his skin, slowly bringing the limb to your face.

“Than lets be improper together.”

In this moment, Azuls not sure feeling what rushes through his hearts. All he knows, is that it tightens in his chest so hard he might as well stop breathing. The logical part of him though shoves such a heart wrenching pain away, locking it deep down so its ugly head isn’t allowed to rear back at him.

It’s vulnerable, too close. He won’t fall for such a foolish trap. He won’t stuff himself into that octopot anymore.

“I don’t think we should.” Your soft hands are quick to let go of him, your body sinking into your chair at his words. He’s about to chase after the heat from your palms before remembering it was him who chased you away.

“You’re right, sorry…” He wishes he had worn his glasses, maybe then he wouldn’t see the way you look so hurt right across from him. It’s quick, but you seem to recover fast from his rejection, smiling as you clap your hands together. “I should get to know the real Azul before he allows himself to be so informal around me!”

“You jump back quickly don’t you…”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have stayed with you the entire time you were in the infirmary would I?” You’re right. He wasn’t exactly the most welcoming when receiving your attention, yet you stayed until he began softening up and finally letting you help tend to him. It reminds him of right now, even though he just bluntly shot your attempt of befriending him down, you’re still being so happy. Your smile falters for a moment, eyes looking down at him before speaking. “I wasn’t lying. I want to know the real Azul.”

He’s silent. Why would you want to know the him that’s… Just utterly pathetic….?

“I wish you good luck on your endeavors—”

“But, you don’t believe in luck.”

“Ah, so you remembered that?” He’s taken a back for a second time of the night.

“I told you I wanted to know you, it makes sense I would, wouldn’t it?”

“I suppose it does.”

“It does.” You parrot his words, as if they’re your favorite flavor and you’re attempting to savor the taste. Azul secretly wishes you would stop smiling already. It’s making his hearts hurt.

“You’ve made me curious Jellyfish, why do you want to know me so bad?” He watches as your expression contorts, first in shock, next in confusion, and finally in defeat.

“I… I’m not sure… Well maybe because…?” I liked you before you even overblotted? No way, too direct. “Ah! Because I just wanna!”

“… You’re much too broad in your answers,” he pours you a glass of sparkling water into your glass cup. “If you wish to know a method of elongating the truth, I happen to know quite a few.” Of course he does…

“Let me hear them then, Cephalo.”

“Ah, well if you ask so kindly I’m inclined to agree. “ he scoots his chair in as he instructs you through his ways of scam.

A few minutes pass before you take a chance at his lesson of spinning the truth, inhaling before speaking.

“I think this opportunity would be great so I can confess to the guy I like.”

“My and who could the mystery man be?”

… You didn’t think this far ahead.

But maybe, this could work in your favor.

“I like y—“

A loud clang is sounded on the table as a covered tray is practically slammed onto the wooden surface.

“Jade…! You…! If this table has a scratch on it I hope you realize that’s coming out of your next check…!”

“Ah, forgive me Azul, I seemed to have tripped” Did he really? That seemed way too hard to have been on accident… Jade resumes to his full height, his smile lacking the usually conniving it usually does when he looks at you before turning back to Azul. “You told me to intervene when the clock strikes midnight.”

You’re ready to reach for your phone to check the time, slyly being stopped by Jades gloved hand gripping you wrist, his free finger pointing towards the clock on the wall.

Has it really been that long already…?

“So it seems… Unfortunately, we’ll have to call this hangout off. I wish you a safe travel back—“

“There’s no need, I shall accompany them back home.”

…

You and Azul are both silent at the proposition.

“Uhm, I’m okay Jade. It’s late; you should probably go to sleep—“

“I insist.” It’s not like you wouldn’t enjoy company… You’re just, a bit afraid of Jade… You look back at Azul, his countenance not giving you any sort of hint on whether or not you should take his offer. Without realizing, your hand is slowly lifted up towards Jades face, his form slightly bowing as a promise is spoken on his lips. “Do not worry, I just wish to stand by your side.”

You have a gnawing suspicion those spoken words mean much more than he lets on.

It isn’t until you’re in the comfort of your bed you check your phone.

It’s 11:27 pm.

Why was the clock ahead of time?

The lights of your dorm shine bright on your skin, further displaying your beauty to Azuls eyes. Your soft breaths carefully enevlop the room, each one sounding like a music note.

His elbow props his head up from the pillow, your body never leaving his visage. He carefully allows his fingers to ghost of the skin of your arm, smiling when your eyes begin to flutter open.

“... You... Let me sleep...“ quiet laughs escape him when you turn over and lift the sheets to shield yourself from the man next to you.

“Only 5 minutes, we did plan this entire day, can’t let it go to waste right?” Your hand emerges from beneath the blanket, waving him off before retreating back into your cocoon. Azul sighs before letting his arms wrap around you, enveloping your body as he rests his head on yours. His voice is soft, sweet, like he’s attempting to coo you out of your protective layer and back into reality. “Would you prefer spending our entire day in bed? I don’t mind but that would mean we don’t get to go out to eat like we penned.”

He watches as you flip over the covers and practically fall off the mattress, his arms reflexively reaching out to catch you.

“Well come on! You’re a busy businessman it doesn’t do you any good to stay in bed!” His smile reaches his lips for once, not the typical cunning smile he trades when making deals, a true genuine smile of joy.

Wait, when did he become so enamored with you?

He’s frozen in place, only watching you get ready in a hurry, clothes flying in the air as they stray across your shared bedroom floor.

Shared?

“… Why are you gawking at me like that? Surely my husband has seen me get ready enough times to not be so entranced.” Your clothes are loosely fit to your body, not yet fully on your skin.

Husband?

“I don’t think so, it’ll have to be at least your last day on twisted wonderland before that happens. By then, I’ll be too focused on all of you.” You’re sat on the floor, watching him slowly walk over to you, his hand caging your cheek as he leans down into you.

Your lips are mere centimeters apart, your mouth slightly parted when soft lips ghost over your own.

“… Am I really that interesting to you?” Your words are hushed. If you weren’t in the comfort of your room, he would’ve never heard those syllables. Yet, that’s not the case, because it’s you two, only you two.

“You always have been.” He closes the distance, his eyes fluttering shut when he leans into the warmth of your lips, only stopping when a quick jolt of energy shoots up his spine.

He never got the chance to feel you.

…

Azul wakes up to the sight of his empty desk.

“Oh my, I was just about to wake you up from such a sweet dream.” Jade is stood in front of the table, his gloved hand placed over his heart. “You seemed to be calling so sweetly for [Name].” That smile of his makes Azuls eye twitch.

“Ignoring your brazen care for privacy, what do you need Jade?” His once unkempt appearance is back to its natural state, his glasses corrected and his hair no longer disheveled.

“Coincidentally, it’s about your dear dream lover.”

…

“What about them?”

“Has [Name] ever mentioned an Ideal Date?” This endearment makes Azul finally take notice of the bouquet of flowers Jade has hidden in his concealed hand. Coincidentally, both your favorite kind, and your favorite color. Since when did he have the knowledge to such info.

“… If they did, I wouldn’t tell you.” His reply doesn’t stir anything in Jade, and if it did, it certainly is concealed well enough to not peak through any part of him. That slick smile doesn’t leave the eels mouth, his head only tilting to signal any sign of disappointment.

“How unfortunate.” He takes a bow before turning heel, the bouquet now on full display to Azul. There’s a letter neatly wrapped to the floral, addressed to you.

My dear, Jellyfish.

…

Azul thinks it’s foolish. That name was made by him, so why is it coming from Jade too?

Eventually, your summons begin to happen less and less, no more outings for the two of you left to seize. Azul sits in his office, his chin places on his clasped hands as he stares at the door. Papers are no longer neatly piled like they used to be, only scattered around the desk with messed scribbles of what used to be Azul's neat handwriting.

He’s waiting. He’s been doing such a thing for a week, simply because, you’ve yet to summon him to your side.

You’ve yet to want him, like you did before.

He’s not sure why he’s so fixated on your attention. Before it was just for the business he required from you, each weekly date— no, you never did call it a date, neither did he… when exactly did he start calling it such an intimate occurrence?

Either way, this arrangement started as a way for you to build up courage for the one you wished to confess to, he started suave, distant, trying his best to embody the mystery man you wished to romance.

Then, at some point, he started filling in the empty placement he left for your suitor, with himself. Instead of trying to be anyone else, he gave you answers to your questions filled with his own character, his favorite foods, his favorite hobbies, his feelings, him, all him.

He gave you all of him, every fragment, every single piece of him he wouldn’t even trust himself with, just for a temporary arrangement. He was a fool, a stupid pathetic cepahlo, how could he just sell out all his cards for this…! It reminds him of his pathetic octo pot, the one he would crawl into in piques of shame.

He’s sure, he’d crawl into it right now had it followed him on land.

You… When he looks at the selfie you took on his phone, a pang sores through the blue blood in his veins. Not his hearts, never those, because you took all three of them when you left him.

He was a fool to not have noticed your affections earlier, had he done so, maybe he wouldn’t need to be locked up in his office, burying his head in his hands at the mere thought of you—

“I insist, it would be improper to let you freeze as I walk perfectly warm next to you.”

“I’m gonna regret this later aren’t I…”

Azuls quick to push himself off his desk, peeking through the crack of the door, his blue eyes spying an all to familar eel peer back at him, with one of the most fiendish smiles he’s ever seen on him.

Truthfully, there isn’t malice behind his smile, if anything, the smile on his lips is the courteous respectful one he always trades people. At the moment though, Azul’s current visage skews his expression, turning a respectful act into that of spite.

He’s ready to storm out and dump as much work as possible onto him, he’s preparing to do it before halting when he sees you again. You’re still just as beautiful as you were last week, and the week before. No, you must’ve started glowing more.

Just like a jellyfish.

“Jade are we gonna go? If you don’t want to anymore I can just walk alone.” your hands wraps around his arm, gently pulling him your direction. Enough for him to move, but not enough to force him your way.

“Yes, do not worry i’m coming—”

“Jade, there you are. I’ve been looking for you, our expenses for supplies have remained unaccounted for, that has always been your job has it not?” The frames of his glasses suffer from the glare of lunge lights, it works in his favor though, without it you would’ve noticed the sense of hurt in his eyes when he stares at you.

“Ah, that is unfortunate timing, I was meant to walk [Name] home—“

“Than it seems I should accompany them in your place, as you will be busy, very busy, correct?” Jades thin-lined smile doesn’t give much away for his current countenance, before he takes his leave, he turns towards you and bows, a gently farewell leaving his lips.

“Wait…! I should give you back your jacket shouldn’t I?”

He didn’t even notice you were garnering the eels wear. In fact, when did you start smelling like Jade? The soft smell of herbal tea Azul had rubbed off on you has basically dissipated off your body. It’s like, all traces of him have disappeared from you.

“It’s okay, keep it.”

Azul watches the way you open your mouth to retort Jade, knowing you, he’s sure you would’ve told him “and risk being in debt to you?” But then your lips close in on themselves and you tug the blazer ever so close to your warmth.

When did Jade become the center of your attention?

Azul beckons you out the door, his hand ready to lay itself on your waist like it once did in the past, but the limb restrains itself without him even commanding to do so.

The walk is silent, save for the footsteps of your shoes clanking against the flooring of their dorm. But, Azuls fine with it, as long as you don’t request for him to do the thing he’s been dreading for the past few weeks. He hopes, he prays you won’t do it. If you don’t, he’ll consider such a thing his lucky day.

But then again, when has Azul ever believed in something like luck?

“I’m satisfied with the deal we made. I’ll give you those flowers and… we can end this contract—”

“You’re ready to confess to your mystery love than? Forgive me, but I took to inspecting flowers. Has Crowley forgotten them? It seems they’re wilted… What poor unfortunate plants.”

“Wha…? When were you in my dorm Azul?”

“Floyd enjoys wandering into places that aren't his to be in.” Azuls fits his glove to his hand, the material stretching over his skin. It seems to you like an act of prim elegance, to him, it’s a subtle way of calming his aching, trembling nerves. “You should know by now the great deal of effort it takes to get him to listen...“

“Well even then, last time I checked they looked completely healthy!”

“And when was that?”

“… 4 days ago… In my defense they’re Crowleys responsibility not mine!”

“Yet there’s still some fault to be found in you…” He’s not wrong, unfortunately… You put them in as collateral for the contract yet you never took any effort to keep them in prim shape. You stop in your tracks, almost tripping over yourself. Your eyes watch Azul pull a box of tea bags out from his pocket, gently shaking the cube as the bags inside hit the interior. “When we get back, do we mind having the discussion over tea?”

You should be suspicious, but, after all the time spent with him, even if you no longer harbor the feeling you once did for him, you trust him.

“Fine, but this better not be some elaborate trick of yours!” He laughs to it, but provides no further comments.

“So, about the contract—“ you’re ready to lift the tea cups rim to your lips, the golden liquid shining with the light.

“Are you in love with Jade?” You sputter out the liquid that hadn’t even made its way into your mouth.

“Wha—? Nahh… Well…! Uhmm….” Your reaction is way too obvious. If you had a cliff anywhere near you, there’s no doubt you would’ve jumped off in pure embarrassment. “Love is… surely a strong word, let’s describe it as more like… A growing infatuation!” You bury your head in your hands after ruminating on that rewording. If anything, it’s sounds more intimate than love….

“I see. So then, were you imagining me as him?” You’re struck out of your embarrassment, looking back up at the dull blue of his irises.

“No. I never did.” You don’t see nor hear it, but the leather of his clothes crunches loudly with the increasing pressure of his fist, slowly tightening.

“Are you sure? This contract is coming to an end, you do not need to hide such details anymore—“

“On those dates,” the word date was already enough to make his posture straighten, the words you later speak only furthering this case.”I imagined you to be you.”

“… What do you mean?”

“I liked you back then, Azul.”

Azul is practically biting his cheek at this revelation, the inside of his mouth salivating with blue blood. You… You must be joking, it can’t no…

“Wh… When did you… you stop…?” He thinks he sounds pathetic. No… he must sound pathetic. His perfectly curated voice is beginning to crack as small slips of voice squeaks escape into his speech.

“When it seemed like you didn’t want anyone to see the real you.” That…! that was just because he didn’t want you finding the sad pitiful octomer behind this suave persona…! He wanted you to fall in love with the version he wanted to be! Not the forlorn octopus he truthfully is and always has been…! “I tried, I really did, to finally have you set free of that wall. I wanted… I wanted to fall in love with the man behind the business. But at some point, it’s like, there was no man, only business.” Your hands scoot over the table, one last time, the lovely feeling of your palms encaging his is felt.

For the last time…

Before you can speak your next sentence, Azul lets words that are far to late to tell you escape him.

“I love you.”

…

There’s silence only. You don’t reciprocate the words you longed to hear him say so far ago in the past.

“And I loved you, Azul.” The emphasize on the past tense practically threatens him to spill over on the table and eat himself limb from limb. The sorrowful yet happy smile from you is enough to stop him, but not enough to cease the thought.

He takes a deep breath in before smiling, his once stiff posture melting into the chair.

“Well then, we should finish this tea, I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

“Oh…! You’re right.” The upward turn on your lips as you lift the cup reminds him of your dates. His head turns to the side to finally make a comment on the poor fully curated flowers on the windowsill, the ones that were offered up on your contract.

“They’re wilted, yet they still look pretty. Much more, they’re shaped like jellyfish, aren’t they, Jellyfish?” You wait for the pink liquid to travel down your throat before replying.

“They are. That reminds me, why wouldn’t you want them if they’re wilted?”

“In their natural state they provide the effect of admiration and gentle love with the first party they see,” you quaff the rest of the pink liquid into your stomach, the fruity aftertaste stuck in your mouth. “When wilted, the effect is… differnt”

“Huh, interesting.” You tug Jades overcoat closer into your body, his cologne invading your nose. You glance to the window just as Azul is, your eyes tracing over each plant. “Huh… There’s 9. There used to be 10…”

“How peculiar… Perhaps a ghost took it for a rainy day.” He’s not wrong, they have a tendency to steal snacks, so it’s entirely plausible.

“Yeah maybe.” Your phone rings, your fingers slipping the device out of your pocket as you glance at the notification. “Jade’s asking me if I want to go on his next mountain hike… Like, right now…”

“You should probably go then.” You didn’t realize it, but since when has your hand been intertwined with Azuls? But even then, why is this blazer the sweetest-smelling thing you’ve ever worn? “You have a growing infatuation.”

“You’re right… I should…”

You don’t know what it is, but your body feels light, hollow even. When you drag yourself up out the door, it’s as if your body is simply flowing through a tide.

“There you are [Name].” you look up the spot on the floor you were staring at, being met with the pretty sight of Jade in front of you. Yet despite it, you look back at Azul, waving a kind goodbye before setting foot.

You miss the look of fondness he trades you, and in turn, you miss the pure sorrow that tears into his eyes.

When the door shuts, Azuls left at the table, his head turning down into the wood as the smile he dealt you is no longer to be seen, the darkness seemingly surrounding him. Just like it did when he overblotted, except…

You won’t be there to comfort him, when he’s left in that wretched white bed,

All alone.

A/n: To be honest, I was so conflcited on who should be Azuls love rival in this fic. If I chose Riddle, It would make the fic have two of your requested characters, also Azuls one sides rivarly would’ve been delicious to write. On the other hand, Jamil who he consistently praises, stealing the one thing he genuinely wanted would’ve been good. Then I realized, Jade is right there. Azul doesn’t consider Jade above him, if anything they’re on equal footing, he just tends to take charge more. Which is exactly what confuddles him more, are Jade and him… basicallly not the same person? (they’re not similar, but Azuls just blinded with grief).

Also, This ended up being way longer than expected (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞