#and in the end the person has to call me back | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kooyabooya · 16 hours ago

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FREUDIAN

m reader x rosé // 24k words

They always say: never make a deal with the devil. Even when all fronts of temptation have you where you’re most vulnerable - you can’t afford to give in, especially if it’s the howling calls of the past whispering out.

So you take a bite of the forbidden fallen apple anyway. Give into the fabled rumor of Judas’s betrayal. Because that’s all you’ve ever known yourself to be: gullible, foolish, naive.

None of that has changed. Even as you’re staring at her, taking the fall.

A look over her shoulder, furry scarf encapsulating her neck. The flash with her eyes sends you reeling, pulling your heartstring to the thinnest strand, nearly tearing it. She’s playing her role so innocently: the heartbreaker, your antagonist, a divine sin. It’s a losing game; one where you know very well, the kind of game where it was deemed unwinnable from the start.

But when you’re holding her close, feel her face buried into the space of your neck, all of the memories come flashing back - each one feeling more right than wrong.

“Maybe in another life,” Rosé tells you, and you’re shushing her, because the break in her voice is already destroying you on the inside, whatever she says next doesn’t even register in your ears; since she’s said the same tale before, and you’re agreeing with her regardless.

To you, Rosé is a lot of things. A scrapbook filled with endless memories. The person to sit at your doorstep late into the night just to have a meaningful conversation. A half that’s been ripped apart. You can go down the mental checklist time and time again, and end up in the same spot as before.

In another life, or some universe for that matter: you and her get that fairytale ending together.

–

The incident, quite literally, comes fast in the dead of the night.

It doesn’t hit you on the nose all at once. What does hit you is your tossed phone right onto your face, squinting at nothing when you sit up before looking down to the bright flash of your phone screen along with the number resting at the top.

“I thought I told you to put your phone on vibrate, you idiot,” your girlfriend huffs sleepily, clearly annoyed at the random call during these late hours when slumber is the only option. Your vision is still coming about, looking over to the window where it’s still dark outside, then over to the alarm clock on your nightstand, struggling to even get a glimpse of the time - no point in looking at your phone too since you would be seeing white well into the morning.

Like anyone else in this particular situation (not really), you pick up: “It’s three in the morning, why would-”

“Did you plan an anniversary trip for us?” The girl’s tone on the other end is a bit on edge, looking for answers. “When the fuck were you going to tell me and why the hell did it have to be now?”

You’re still half asleep, half awake; but the timbre in the voice sounds all too familiar - she’s got the same drawl stemmed off from you, not to mention the flurry of questions in the opening five seconds. There’s also that sense of bubbliness you’re imagining, the way that you can easily picture her sitting with both knees up, her head tilted in a way where it shows that she’s very uninterested. Or, the other form where she’s leaning forward, leaning into her phone, constantly looking down at the ground and nowhere else.

She hates the fact that she had to make this call, and you can easily tell. You, on the other end, are trying to put the bits and pieces of the story together to the best of your memory, scratching the back of your head, trying to rattle your slow-working brain. Hanging up would’ve been the best option to follow, save this conversation for later when you can think straight. Typically, you should’ve just ignored the call entirely.

Tragically, that’s not your style, so you answer, “Hey Rosie, been a while since I’ve heard your voice.”

A sigh sounds off from the speaker, “Don’t ‘Rosie’ me. I just need you to confirm my suspicions.”

“On?”

“Pfft, stop being stupid. I’m not gonna repeat myself here.”

You breathe out a soft laugh, and hang your head into your chest for a second, collecting your thoughts. “Yes, I did plan that out as a trip for us. Right before we, uh-”

Silence fills the call immediately after. Despite being on separate paths, the tension still stings like a tightening noose around your neck. Not even a simple grind of your teeth and a clenched fist can serve as the probable testament to the amount of pain you and her suffered together on the tail-end of your relationship, the hope of salvaging lost long before calling it quits.

“Still there?” Rosé asks, snapping your attention back to her voice.

“Yeah,” you reply, hiding a sniffle through a quick cough, “I just- yeah. Details can come later.”

“Okay,” she says, carrying on. “I got that reminder email from the travel organizer.” And at this point you’re cursing yourself and mentally facepalming as many times as you possibly could (seriously, why would you think it was a good idea to set up a reminder through that stupid auto-email service to notify her too as well?), thinking of every contingency to weasel your way out of this conversation. Rosé, however, had no idea of your present thought process, “Went through reading the fine prints of the agreement and…well.”

“And?” You practically prayed to God that she’d not been this quick to read into the lines and decode the information.

“Says here that the trip is non-refundable.” That is what Rosé ends with.

“That so?”

“We can’t cancel it.”

“Too late for us to do that, no?”

The comforter ruffles behind you, a small hand tapping the lower back of your shirt. “Babe? Who’s that on the phone?”

You press the switch near your nightstand to put the room into an ambient lighting setting, turning over to see the lovely ruffle of bed hair and one eye open. She then snuggles herself back into the bed, covering herself with the sheets as you’re palming the side of her face to put her back to sleep. “Sorry Jennie, it’s a-” and here is where you’re throwing caution to the wind, ensuring that you don’t trip up on your words at this moment, “late night work call.” So far it’s good, and Jennie nods with a soft hum, lazy smile at the touch of your palm. She’s a bit dazed, but one good measure for insurance, you tell her, “I’ll explain in the morning.”

Jennie blinks once or twice, dropping her eyelids while you rub your thumb across her cheek, the soothing touch sending her away to dreamland. There’s a warmth here; one where you feel safe, at home. You’ve struck out in getting with a girl like her, and the timing of it couldn’t have been more impeccable: you and Jennie were both at low points in life when you found each other, building up until the feelings couldn’t be suppressed any longer.

(That story’s for another time. Though, a very heartwarming memory to look back on.)

Your name, rolling of Rosé’s tongue, drags you back down. “Hello? Oh- yeah, yeah. I’m still here. What were you asking?”

“So we’re going? Is that what I’m getting at here?”

The inquiry lances your heart and mind, filling it with an endless plethora of uncertainties. “Wait- what?”

“Well for one: it’s my ticket. And two: I want to go. If you were going to morph this trip with someone else, I’d understand.” Rosé’s reason is plausible, and you’re seeing a way out of this less and less. “But considering that we had the plans under our names, we’d-”

“Rosé-”

“It’s my ticket.” Rosé doubles down and you wince at the fact. “I can imagine you scrunching your face right now, stop that.”

“Okay, you win.”

“Good.”

“I’ll get everything arranged prior in the next few days and pick you up for the airport. Talk to you later.”

–

At the airport, not to anyone’s surprise, there is an essential bomb rush of families on top of families arriving and checking in and boarding to their set destination. Pro tip: plan the flights ahead of time (especially if it’s during the holiday season), just to avoid any sort of commotion or potential setback on your end. If the flight gets delayed, rescheduled, or relocated to another gate, that’s not your fault.

God forbid that any of those happen since it would only prolong the amount of time you’d have to spend with Rosé.

Very small words were exchanged when you picked her up from her apartment, on the way to the airport, and even when you did most of the work getting all of the travel plans for this ‘anniversary gift’ finalized and confirmed. As expected, honestly. Sharing a car ride with your ex was not on your list of places to get stuck in no matter what the predetermined events or circumstances are, but all the more reason to keep your eyes on the road at the time, go figure.

Rosé’s sitting on the opposite end of you at one of the benches near the boarding gate once everything’s been checked in and settled; along with the security wing gauntlet handled by the TSA, but you’re finally here - waiting for all of this to finally be done and over with. She’s bearing no ounce of attention towards you, mindlessly scrolling on her phone with earbuds in, hoping that you wouldn’t take notice, but you do. And when she does flash a quick look of her eyes in your direction, a millisecond is all you get to dart your eyes elsewhere that isn’t on her.

Still, you can’t help yourself when you’re mentally rolling back the years.

Her styling is strikingly the same as it was before. A leather jacket finely pointed at the edges and crooks where it looks like the wrinkles aren’t even supposed to be there in the first place, those flowy pants that make it look like it was ripped off of a parachute and sewed up by a designer as this one-of-one piece. Then, there are the rings, and her pair of shades resting above her forehead; she’s bundled up into the seat like a little kid, an arm holding her phone as it rests along her thigh, both of her shoes are off and she’s got these cute, pink fluffy socks leaving you genuinely confused since the choice practically contradicts the other choices of clothing entirely. Really? Out of all those socks, you chose to go with that pair?

That doesn’t stand out as much compared to the other thing: her hair.

Maybe God’s rolling the dice on you for this one. Hell, you’re even wondering if God ever rolls dice in his free time upstairs. Purposeful or not, it isn’t doing you any good the more you look at those golden, heavenly locks; braided up and tied back into her head where it doesn’t give any issue for her neck whatsoever. Not to mention her side profile, the shape of her nose, and that jaw.

The pout she purses with her lips. It’s anything less than innocent.

On schedule, there’s about roughly an hour or so before your flight to Paris takes off, and you’re not willing to drive yourself insane with very few word phrases spoken. So you make conversation:

“You dyed your hair again,” you say, clutching your hoodie when Rosé’s attention falls back to you, “Gotta say, I like the color.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Thanks.” Rosé says, pulling an earbud out and sliding both feet off the seat. The phrasing alone is still good enough to pass as awkward, sighing as she turns her head to look out the window - nothing but cloudy skies for miles while a plane touches down on the tarmac. “Blonde’s been such a comforting color for me, so I thought why not roll with it again for fun?”

“Does bring back memories.” You slide your palms under your thighs, and cross both feet on the floor. “You had this platinum shade back when we first met.”

“Did I? You still remember that?” Rosé grins at the sudden recollection, folding her glasses and sliding them into her handbag.

“What do you want to get out of this?” You suddenly ask again, quickly running a hand across your chest to rid of the sweat riddled along your palms.

“By this, you mean-”

“Our trip,” you amend. Here you’re pulling yourself back a bit - the duo of your luggage and hers acting as this barrier, hoping that the bags can serve as this proximity limiter for the time being. “It’s supposed to be for a week, with an option to extend for another day or so.”

Rosé tugs the tied bun, scratching her neck to where you notice she got her nails trimmed and done. “A week in Paris doesn’t seem that bad, but planning it during the week of-”

“Christmas was a bit of a stretch,” you wince with a hand to the back of your head, “It’s still a nice setting to think about, though. Cold weather, snowing, the cups of cocoa we’d drink together at a cafe? What else did I not think about while planning this?”

Rosé just blinks at you, flabbergasted. She takes a second or longer to get a better look at your face, studying the shapes and curves of your frame as if it were some long-lost art piece that she had a vague familiarity with. Her breathing also slows for a bit when she drops her shoulders a bit, the discarded earbud now hanging as her eyes finally make contact with the floor, diminishing the gaze entirely.

“Sorry. I had everything thought out for our stay,” you say casually, defeated. “I honestly wish that-”

“Does Jennie know?” Rosé asks, leaning back into her chair. A premonition bubbling when she shares the same raised eyebrow directly back at you.

You nod, which you’re half-right about.

(“A work order in Paris?” Jennie asks you the morning after the first contact via phone call. She’s well aware of your passion for artistry and architecture, so playing the white lie of being ‘assigned’ to study in an attempt to further the progress of the team’s project was an idea worth rolling with. “How long are you going to be there for?”

“No more than a week,” you answer, confident for no good reason. “Maybe a day or two more.”

And that’s that.)

But you zone out for a second too long. “You’re not very convincing,” says Rosé.

“She does,” you spit out again, nodding at a faster pace. “Jennie knows the surface level of this whole thing, at least.”

“Hah,” Rosé breathes, stretching her neck with another glance. God, even the slightest sound of her laugh sounds the same as it was before - licking the rim of her lips where it meets her teeth, treating herself to the pulled cup of yogurt she bought as a snack to kill the waiting time faster. “Should’ve been honest with her,” she tells you, “I think there wouldn’t be anything wrong if you said my name in the first place instead. Lessens the risk of the possible conjecture.”

The audacity, it makes you scoff as Rosé carries on with her meal, fixing her lips along the plastic spoon, carelessly nodding and humming while you’re twisting your attention to the passing planes in the air and the trucks rolling along the taxiway. You’re trying extremely hard to not fall into the conscious habit of looking - when the eyes are zig-zagging their way from the ceiling and to the distance of the nearby gate. Somehow, it always falls on her. Always. She’s got her jacket off to compensate for the stuffiness, honey skin radiating, the sleeves of her shirt pooling over her arms, foot underneath her other knee, delicate and unbothered. She’s a time capsule - the kind where you bury deep into the ground and never even think of uncovering years later.

You thought you could move on, but here she is: within arms reach.

–

If you thought sitting across from her waiting to board was torture, being next to her was extremely worse.

Luckily, the aisle seat opened up next to yours and hers, only for it to be taken at the last possible minute, destroying any chance of creating that space between you and Rosé. This part here gets juicy: Rosé opted for the window seat and considering that the aisle was already taken, this puts you right smack in the middle of the row. She also raised the armrest set between you and her, making your final line in terms of creating a temporary vicinity practically nonexistent. Nothing will happen in a fourteen-hour flight, right? Rosé gives you the quick rundown of what she wants for her in-flight meals when she can put her legs onto your seat while you go to the restroom (and wished to stay there for the rest of the flight, but you know damn well enough that you can’t), even when she’s saying to not freak out if her head falls on your shoulder while sleeping - also, don’t mind if I grab onto your arm if I’m watching some scary movie. Every excuse seems like a death sentence added on to prolong your suffering.

The man sitting next to you weaves the discussion about the cold air from outside being brought into the cabin, some aerospace thing about the insulation and great air conditioning, but all you can give is a forced hearty smile and these nods of agreement as his wife says something embarrassing to butt herself into the talking bubble, rolling your eyes at the pair out of spite.

You’re giving your two cents about how you liked cold weather (out of all things to discuss for God knows why), and the couple takes your opinion well with open arms and minds. The wife leans over to see Rosé, glancing over before turning her head back to the window, putting two and two together:

“Are you two also going to Paris for your honeymoon?” She asks, the man also taking the hint with an ‘o’ shaped mouth.

“Uhh, that’s a bit of a tough question to answer,” you chuckle nervously as the wife makes the quick inference, carrying on with the long conversation (which was very one-sided from this point on) about how she and the man sitting next to you are so in love, their plans for their honeymoon and anniversary. You can’t help but be intrigued and infatuated with how you’re able to see love bloom right in front of your eyes. They ask you if there are any recommendations and you being the goody-two-shoes that you are, it only gets them to keep talking still. In the midst of all of this Rosé peeks over your shoulder, hand to your elbow as a sign to shut you up, but you send the same elbow back to make her stop.

Eventually, when the plane does move onto the runway and up in the air, the couple continue their monologue of how they met, their dreams, their occupations, what they like to do in their free time, the names of their cats, where they see themselves in the next five to ten years. Rosé then looks over again, lending her ears to listen to the lovely story candidly as you see her eyes filled with so much awe and wonder; she finds it funny too, and you’re seeing what she’s seeing: because that would’ve been the case if you and her had not split.

All the infinite possibilities you’re thinking off, it’s spilled right in front of you, and it gets you thinking.

–

(Midway through the long flight, you’re not even getting a wink of sleep when Rosé’s tossing and turning in the seat next to you. Some are watching assorted movies, you could hear a kid cry a few rows back, the usual experience.

Her knee hits your thigh as you’re scooting your butt away from her, unwilling to make a shape with her body, pulling the complimentary blanket up to her neck.

“Did you ever think of getting first class for the trip?” She asks, irritated. “My seat’s getting kicked from behind, and I can’t put my feet on the ground.”

“I’d be paying an additional two hundred or more to get it reserved,” you tell her, making yourself as comfortable as you can, leaning the seat back. “The next best thing was econ, so deal with it.”

She rests her head on the upper part of your arm, eye mask on and everything, falling asleep soon after.)

–

Upon the arrival gate, you do manage to get a few hours of shut-eye, backpack in hand and a trailing Rosé behind when crossing over the inside of the airport, voice conveniently drowning out the same kid who was crying not long ago during the flight.

“I can’t believe you let me sleep for six hours. Six hours.” you’re complaining, and rightfully so. “Look at you, who managed to sleep for pretty much the whole time. I had to take it on the chin, listening to their entire life story when I could’ve watched whatever you were watching while you were snoring away.”

Rosé has her shades on, hiding a bit of her puffy face and eye bags. “So? What’s it to ya? I’m not the one who decided to lean over and eavesdrop on their lovely conversation.”

“I was checking if our row was in the correct spot.”

She chuckles. “Yeah yeah, keep coming up with the lame excuses buddy.”

“You-”

“Try every alibi you’ve got in the book, but I know you well,” says Rosé victoriously, sideswiping her way in front of you on the auto walk, rolling her small hand carry around to sit on, taking a breath. She rolls her neck around, stretching - an arm at a weird angle facing down, extending her leg between your feet. Personal space was going to be an issue, you’ve already drawn up that conclusion; considering that you sat with her for roughly about fourteen to sixteen hours with the occasional retreat to the bathroom and the awkward indulgence with one of the flight attendants, you dread how the living situation will be once you and her get to the hotel room. This might be hell for you, but only time will tell which circle you’re finding yourself in.

“That should not have taken you that long to get our thing set up together,” Rosé lightly berates, handing over her luggage to you once you’ve hailed the provided ride accommodation from the travel company. “If I were the one handling this trip, I would’ve hit points x, y, and z in less time than you. Do you not know the basic cues to kill a conversation?”

You don’t answer. Because arguing isn’t gonna get you anywhere with her.

(Telling yourself lies was a strength, but also your curse as well. Somehow you keep getting away with it.)

You roll your eyes at the rhetorical question, placing all the bags into the trunk of the cab. “C’mon, don’t play the bad cop here. You know damn well that I’ve always been terrible at getting myself out of situations like those. It also didn’t help that she and the couple on the plane sounded so upbeat and enthusiastic.”

“It’s okay,” Rosé says, patting your shoulder as a form of truce. “Besides, that’s how you met me technically.” She gets into the cab soon after, settling into the backseat.

And you take a second to internalize the said phrase, scanning the horizon of the cityscape in the backdrop.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you’re muttering to yourself, getting into the cab with Rosé, with most of the ride pretty much quiet as you’re both looking out the opposite windows.

–

For some added context, Rosé waltzed into your life on a random Tuesday morning in the first week of fifth grade.

It’s something straight out of a coming-of-age movie or slow-burning romance novel: up until that point, you’ve had boys as your deskmates through the grades with one of them being your close friend going forward.

She would change all of that - a bit pathetic now that you’re looking back at it: her being the first girl that you would ever talk to let alone sit next to you for the entire school year - but you didn’t mind though, since she was easy to get along with.

As the days turned into months and into years, you and Rosé shared everything and in between with each other. From exchanging your favorite cartoon shows on a Saturday afternoon when there was no homework, which subject was the favorable one to learn, favorite colors, why she didn't like playing sports compared to you, the blown-out-of-proportion drama over who was the popular girl in school at the time, the score you got on the last math test, what were you going to do over the summer break. There was never a moment where you or she filled in on anything worth sharing.

Rosé knows everything about you inside and out. The same could be said for your end of the table.

You’ve created the progressive drawn-up schematic well into high school. Her occasional gossip debriefs, the endless rants about that one teacher who would always give her a hard time, whether or not she should go to the dances (dragging you as her plus one, where she came extremely close to back in junior year), worrying about her near-perfect grades to the point she would overcomplicate every single minute detail that pops up with every last check before turning in an assignment. Then, there’s the crushes. Her occasional flings - to which, she had multiples of them, telling all of the unnecessary details of what she did with the guys on every date, sharing with you all the pros and cons of what her ideal type is.

But here’s the thing.

She was giving you all the signals for you to not notice. All the boxes in her list where you checked off nearly every single one of them. The realization itself came to you on a late night when she was passed out on the coffee table, papers on top of papers of notes before college admissions being submitted, turning a blind eye away from the few bottles of soju she consumed to power through even when you said that it was a terrible idea.

The small intake of alcohol helped you connect the dots right then and there: you were in love with her.

Playing it safe was the name of the game. And on your part, it was justified to keep yourself at a distance from Rosé, not putting any sort of risk in ruining the long friendship you’ve built with her. Why lay everything on the line with someone who occupied half of your brain already?

“You won’t know unless the leap of faith has been made,” Lisa says to you at the time, and that's probably the only source of assurance you ever needed to hear.

So, you make that leap.

A simple line or two is all you said where Rosé’s eyes go wide when you see her off at the front of her house, nothing else to be said when her weight collapses on top of you for an overdue hug. Talk about romantic confessions, am I right?

Once word went around various friend groups the both of you were in, it didn’t come off as much of a surprise. Most people had already made that conclusive pairing long before you started to read into the social cues and fast glances without you knowing. What mattered in the end was that you were finally with her after all this time.

It could’ve been written in ink right there and then: she was your first crush, first girlfriend, first kiss, first relationship, first love.

That should have been the end of the story. The greatest score you could ever pull off in your life. Job done.

–

(Until it wasn’t. She would eventually be the first terrible heartbreak you would ever have to endure.

First time for everything, remember?”)

–

“You’re kidding.” Rosé deadpans, walking into the open space of the hotel room, scanning. Her first reaction then shifts once she drops her bags right where they are, walking around the singular king-size bed, showered in rose petals formed into a heart with two towels folded up into quaint but cute swans resting with both of their beaks touching at the top. “You can’t be serious.”

Your hands go straight into your pockets, the corners of your lips pulled flat, indifferent. “Isn’t it the thought that counts?”

Rosé bears no mind to your bland answer. Granted, she’s partial to the fact of going through this whole trip with you, patting the head of the towel swan before turning her attention to the table at the corner of the room, a bottle of champagne kept cool in an ice bath. “I’ll give you points for the effort,” she sighs, “Care to tell me how much you paid for everything in this room?”

The cork goes flying once you lay your bearings, approaching her as she pours the golden liquid into the arranged champagne flutes, handing it over before she spills some of it over the counter on her own.

“I put in a request, that’s all.” She nods in acknowledgment while you take a nice, quick swig of the beverage, hoping to let it sting in your throat as you try to ignore the insane price tag, gazing past the window and to the nearby buildings. “Some of the stuff was extra, well, perks and all.”

“That so?” Rosé breathes, chuckling. You watch her down an impressive amount, humming at the taste. There’s an old film happening here, impossible to ignore. Her hair’s a little messed up, eyelids dropping low. You have to stand down here, don’t get any funny ideas, tilting your head slightly when the glow of the streetlights below hit her face, radiating, see her lip pulled back between her teeth-

Snapping your attention back to the city skyline was a good mental call. Clearing your throat was even better; anything worth grabbing to consolidate.

You look over again to see a smile from the side, “It’s so beautiful at night.”

A pretty sweet view to turn back on, and you agree with her.

“I’ll go shower first,” Rosé says after clearing her throat, “We’ve had a long day anyway.”

“Yeah, go on ahead.”

She then puts her flute back on the table before walking back to her suitcase. You keep your body forward and your feet where they’re at, looking out into the city some more until you eventually hear the shower running. The thought crosses your head again, thinking about all of the things you did to get into this position - moments where you failed to think logically, it’s a mess in your head at this point.

(Of all people, why did it have to be her? Being practically stranded in the city of love is one thing, but, maybe this is God or the universe trying to make good for your sake - who knows, only time will tell.)

–

This journey may be an ascent to a refined sense of closure or a descent back down into hell; how you look at it is entirely up to you.

“Do you think I’m contagious or something?” Rosé huffs out in annoyance, tossing a nearby pillow in your direction, forcing you to look up at her sitting upright on the bed - you on the couch at the other end, hoping to create some distance in whatever way you can possible. “The bed’s big enough for the two of us.”

“I find it better to not entertain that risk.”

“You slept on the floor in my room multiple times.”

“Okay I- you- well,” you stutter, words bouncing all over the place as your fingers grip tight into the book in your hands, “that’s different.”

Rosé then folds her legs up, knees resting underneath her chin. You’re lucky that the reading light hanging over your spot is enough to hide the growing heat of red rising to your cheeks. Ever since she was the one to end things four years ago, contact with Rosé had been pretty much nonexistent, and for good reason. It was already hard to lose your best friend and past lover in one go, but here she is again acting like nothing had happened between you two. Maybe she’s doing what you did: engaging in conversation - though every dreadful second has been painstakingly difficult, looking back to see her head go sideways, an inquisitive gaze written all over her face, the small quirk at the corner of her lip every time she smiles - in your eyes, she’s still the same as before, there’s no difference.

“It’s not a risk,” Rosé says, placing her head back up against the headboard, “I’m just saying that the couch over there looks uncomfortable.”

“I’ll manage. Thanks.”

Rosé then grabs another pillow within her reach, and places it beneath her forearms, straightening out her legs on the bed. “Idiot,” she hisses, the tone almost as a projection.

That catches your attention: her attitude. She looks away when you twist your head towards her again. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” she pouts, “I was just trying to get some talking going.”

Look, playing defensive isn’t wrong by any means. Tactically, that’s the best way to approach things that you’re unfamiliar with. Rosé’s mannerisms, her habits, the quirks she does, you have every trick from her in your personal playbook. You can try to run and hide all you want, but sometimes taking things head-on is the only way to go.

Rosé here is just- existing. You can tell that she’s far removed from creating any sort of effort into talking; aware of the lingering tension and awkwardness she left all those years ago. Above all that, she carries on with her one-sided conversation - which is sort of relieving to listen to, just hearing her voice, rambling about anything and literally everything that she could bring up. There’s that quick recollection of all the instances, all the times where she would tell you about the countless things where shutting up wasn’t an option. Her outlook on life hasn’t changed, and you admire that she’s bright and passionate about how things work in the world.

“It’s a bit relieving,” you tell her innocently, “you here reminding me of those days.”

Nostalgia was something worth decoding between the lines, and Rosé knows this. There’s nothing wrong with filling in what you’ve done in the past year or two, moving on after what you originally thought was the toughest period of your life. Protecting your peace, prioritizing your health - that kind of thing.

“I know that I left you in a really bad place for so long,” she implies, coming to terms for her actions. Hoping to not open up the old wound, sugarcoating it.

“We were at different points in our lives,” you console. You’re not so entirely sure of yourself if it’s the alcohol talking or the foundations of your inner walls crumbling. “I just thought that-”

“Don’t.” Rosé commands, crossing her arms over the pillow. “Don’t.”

“Okay, but still - I just wished that it didn’t have to end that way.”

It goes and it goes. Rosé keeps her gaze fixed on you as you’re nodding, mindful of what the words are but not saying it. Instead, you keep it lighthearted and put it in a positive perspective and it may be worthy of a few snaps of her fingers.

The late-night convos are a little relaxing, so you’ll take that as a plus.

–

The first ‘actual’ day of the trip is pretty uneventful.

Nothing too substantial to report other than the fact it was a mix of cloudy skies and rain from time to time.

Rosé insisted on following the itinerary, walking around the streets, and trying out various cafes handpicked by her. Then there’s the usual landmarks within walking distance too: the Arc de Triomphe, the Grand Palais, and no point in going to the Eiffel Tower since there was zero visibility at the top, so you divert to the Notre Dame Cathedral and try again a different day when the weather clears up.

(Without a care in the world, she runs up the sidewalk and turns around, arms wide open: “We’re not in Kansas anymore are we?

You give her a face of genuine confusion, “What?” Her face falls flat and you’re left there saying: “What.”)

Aside from the good food and everything around you picturesque and as ‘fresh inspiration’, Rosé takes this opportunity to capture whatever stood out to her: candid pictures of you on film, other city goers doing their everyday routine, in addition to the photos she took at the different landmarks. She has you taking pictures of her, not as a possible memento. No. But you can’t turn her down whatsoever - you just can’t.

–

(All of that is about to change, and the rain starts to pick up well into the evening. In the figurative scheme of things, you could put this as the heart of the storm; the moment where lighting can strike twice in the same spot. It could happen.)

Somehow the sim card in your phone keeps bugging out every few hours or so. The reception around the city hasn’t been that bad per se, but trying to get some calls back home has been a bit of a pain - so you had to work with what you got. Texting was the second best option for reaching Jennie, hoping that you can keep the act up by keeping her in the loop of this whole getaway. So far the messages have been casual, typical fill-ins of her day since you left, missing you.

To compensate for the international phone rates, you managed to find a payphone. An odd surprise at best and you suppose that it shouldn’t take forever in the booth, but the pitter-patter of the droplets hitting along the glass gave a small indication that this might take longer than expected.

The line continues to ring for a second or two longer, and then-

Click.

The silence becomes a slight worry, fingers gripping the phone, hoping that you could hear a hum - or that lovely violet voice that sends your heart thrumming right from the first letter.

Instead, you hear her laugh, and a sigh soon after. It might’ve been a moan as well, you know that much.

Another voice picks up at the end of the call, one that you’re very not familiar with: “Hel- Hello? Who’s this? Jennie, I think it’s your-”

There’s no fucking way.

Everything around the booth starts to fade in and out of focus. Rational thought was still in play, but barely - trying to put all of the little pieces together in a short amount of time. It’s not enough. Your jaw tightens, fighting the blood simmering through your veins. There’s too many questions to be asked, but only a few answers to take. You’re not entirely sure what these wave of emotions actually are - and it could be a lot of things: anger, fear, rage, sadness?

“Shit. Give me the- hello?” Jennie’s voice tries to calm you, but it’s already too late for that. “Wait, it’s not what you think it is, I swear-”

“I think I’ve heard enough from you.”

“Babe, if you just let me explain-”

You don’t think twice about hanging up. Your mind doesn’t even register the pain being imbued into your hands when you’re punching the glass furiously in quick succession. Hell, when you leave the booth, the realization has slowly started to set in, but the tears simply won’t come out.

I thought you were different.

The rain falls a lot harder now that you’ve finally stepped outside and look up to the dark sky, as if the universe is sharing its sorrowfulness as well.

You were supposed to be different.

–

If you had the chance to put all of your thoughts and feelings from your past relationships into a bottle or glass, you’d drink it down until there’s absolutely nothing at the bottom; the pain might’ve been tolerable then. No matter how many shots it’s been, it’s still not enough.

You don’t even remember when you first walked into the bar, but you order another shot anyway. The coat next to you still needs a few more minutes to dry up as it is.

The alcohol stings when it travels down your throat, mind working way past overtime - thinking back of all the times when you’ve been duped, deceived, exploited - but to no avail. It's a bit pathetic that the worst kinds of people show up when you least expect it, even if it's those who you hold close dearly to your heart. Relationships and commitment to you have always been complicated; an unwritten cosmic law etched into the stars.

In hindsight, it just really fucking sucks.

It’s gotten so bad to the point where you’re being woken up after passing out for maybe five or ten or so minutes. You don’t remember. Your memory is in these black patches - rough blots of ink with no detail underneath as your vision slowly forms. A girl is next to you; a calm, soothing voice bringing you closer to the light. Everything’s still blurry, but you can barely make out the silhouette: dark hair, fine skin, smooth palm holding your face. It’s comforting, you start to question if this was the present reality, but you take a shot in the dark:

“Jennie?” you say, mind buzzed and speech slurred.

“No. Dingus.”

Ah, it was worth a shot. You can see things a lot more clearer now. Instead of the shaded dark hair, it’s the opposite: hot blonde. The texture of the jacket too is also familiar, her hand is surprisingly wet from the rain, and she sounds out of breath - like she ran here.

Rosé.

“What the hell happened to you?” She asks, distressed, holding your face before lightly shoving it away realizing what she was doing.

You try your best to explain the situation; but considering the plethora of drinks you had on the tab along with the alcohol in your system, you don’t actually explain anything at all.

She could only hear the sniffles coming out of your nose.

Rosé then takes a second look, and puts another piece of the damage together. It’s all over your face: the puffy eyes, bloodied knuckles, your irises once filled with light now an empty, deep void - like something sucked the life right out of you.

“Something happened with Jennie, no?” The name pierces your heart at the guiltless inquiry.

“Kinda,” you answer with a hiccup at the end. “It’s all the same between me and love, honestly.”

Rosé then draws back, your face still in her hands, internalizing the present state. You think she might’ve realized a thought right then and there, an instance where she's been before not long ago. It doesn’t take that much more for her to learn what you had done to get here; let alone who managed to hurt you in the first place. Because she’s been here before, and she now knows what her mistake was two years ago.

So instead of running away, she pulls you in for a hug. You break down a little harder for a moment. No point in hiding.

She doesn’t say anything after leaning back. The best form of comfort she could give were both palms to your cheeks, wiping the dried-up tears off as best as she could. Somehow you barely even manage to make eye contact with her again, afraid to even look away in the first place.

You’re not sure if you leaned in or if she pulled you back to her, but your mind clears up instantly the second she kisses you.

Her lips are the same way as you remember them: nice and soft and undeniably comforting. Both of her hands keep you in place, the wistful inhale of her nose matches yours, wanting more of this rising heat spreading across your faces. She kisses like she missed you and- in a partly true way, for all the wrong reasons. Gripping and clutching wherever she can, afraid to let go of you again like the last time. You or her could practically melt in this little pocket created and recall sometime later and try to decipher every little individual action leading up to this, whether or not to write this off as an act of grace or an admission of cruelty - one or the other will have you sinking at the end.

Rosé stops herself, eyes half-lidded, pulling her swollen bottom lip like some sort of warning.

“I uh-” Crap. You should’ve known better, but you can’t help or blame the drinks for making you like this. “I-I’m sorry. You didn’t have to-”

“It’s okay.”

“But-”

“C’mon,” she persists, holding your hand and nodding her head sideways, “let’s get out of here.”

–

You’re more aware of your actions now, in the late hours of the city - where anyone could get away with anything. With that taken into account, this is the perfect time to hide away; out of anybody’s sight and the risk of getting caught is the least of your worries.

Rosé’s nose bumps yours when you’ve pressed her against the brick wall in some alley - calming every form of impulse as you could, but it’s futile. Her arms wrap around your neck and you’re cupping her face, tilting her head up to elicit a gasp between her lips.

“Fuck,” she rasps, and it’s pretty when she curses. Her hands go everywhere, haywire. A last act of desperation she does is dig her fingers into the back of your head, only making your arms pull her in closer, hindering the purpose of what she’s trying to achieve. You’d let her, and that’s exactly what she’s going for here.

“I’m a bit drunk still,” you admit, feeling the tips of her fingers graze along the nape of your neck. “So don’t beat me up if I can’t remember everything after tonight.”

Rosé’s hand shifts to your jaw, kissing you again so easily; giving you little to no time to react. Like she’s coaxing you into thinking differently that’s better than your common sense. A few more smacks here and there happen, the cool air surrounding both of you trying to flush the heat out.

The press of her face is anything out of the ordinary, humming into your mouth that deepens the sinking pit happening in your stomach. It isn’t anything new.

Because that’s the impending phase of her slowly coming back to light. She was always vocal and forward with how she took on the world; leaving a mark of what she had done not far either. Her hands cup your face so tenderly, and each longing touch of her lips against yours sends a tidal wave of memories flooding back - this entity that’s all-consuming where you could only handle so much, a hand to the side of her throat where the kiss deepens, surrendering your mind to hers

Maybe it was the timing of everything, a thought to theorize with once it’s all said and done.

“You’re broken again,” she whispers between your lips.

“Among other things,” you darted back, sighing slowly and head lowered. But it’s the truth. “Yeah, won’t say any more.” Your eyes meet hers as you slowly retreat.

“It’s okay.” Rosé concludes, eyes filled with so much care and empathy into them, thumb grazing along your cheek, cleaning another dry trail from the tears. “You have me.”

My god, this woman-

“I honestly convinced myself that you’d already moved on,” her gaze goes crestfallen, pulling her lips inward. “To think that I left you there by yourself, after everything we’ve been through. It ruined me too since - it wasn’t even your fault to begin with.”

You swallow your pride and turn yourself over on the wall.

Most of your mind is drawing blanks - bits and pieces of the picture caricatured through a warm mouth and fingertips. The draft in itself is a bit fucked up, sketched at the last possible minute; hands ghosting your jacket, tracing a line or two into the fabric of your shirt, trailing lower along the waistband of your pants. “You’re kidding, right?”

Rosé snorts at the whisper, lowering her eyelids when she’s peppering your neck again with kisses. “We’re not having a problem here are we?” She says that as she’s descending to her knees, looking up so innocently like some angel incarnate - contradicting the current action she’s presenting right now.

“Look. Rosé, we really shouldn't-”

She pays no attention to the pleading when she’s palming your length through your underwear, thumb sliding up against the underside while your other hand settles with hers set at the side of your thigh. “Okay, I mean - like this is just wrong - you don’t- god, why are you even-”

Rosé here, doesn’t give you any chance to breathe or recuperate the fast flow of thoughts. Her eyes remain unimpressed with a tilt of her head, closing in with the newly uncovered area at your waist, and the twist of her lips brings forth a sense that’s been lost to hidden waves of time.

She inhales, coaxing you much to the point where you’re looking up to the sky above for some safe passage.

“Mmmmm.”

You might as well be fucked from this point on. At least you’ll play into the game Rosé’s putting up with her mouth all over you.

“Oh, oh fuck-”

It’s all in the simple movements and adjustments - the hair being pulled back to the cuff of her ear, the way she bottoms your cock down to the base and rests for a second, the graze of her teeth across the topside, sending your hips chasing for more of that addicting bite. She hollows out her cheeks to the right pressure of suction, bracing her hands on your thighs as she begins to pick up a steady rhythm. Down, side to side, then up. Down, side to side, then up. You could picture her lashes fluttering with every slide down your shaft, humming right along the skin as if she’s proffering a way of reflecting, praising with little to no words but with plump lips and a warm tongue.

“Gotta say,” Rosé starts, after reeling back for a second, “I remembered why I loved this cock so much.”

You’ve got her hair in the grips of your fingers, thrusting your cock back past those pretty lips, hoping to shove her words right back down her throat - which works so much better than you initially expected. The brain is working triple the amount of overtime to register and compensate for the endless rush of stimulation your body is getting; the buzz of the alcohol fading with every new layer of spit lathered across the length, watching Rosé’s head continue to bob at a faster pace between your legs. She doesn’t let you off that easily when her hand coils itself at the base, the other cradling your balls with the right amount of pressure - prompting you to use both of your hands to grip her head, making the motion as seamless as possible. You could feel her throat go slack, opening up the edges to where your cock can fill in the space - the gags alone break above the audible ambiance of rain hitting the ground beneath the both of you.

“Fuck me.” And at this point, your level of thinking is so thrown under limbo. The sounds alone are music to your ears. A lost tune waiting to be heard again. Wanting. “Rosé, you-”

“Ummphgh,” is all you manage to get out of her, the spit and slippery slick of her mouth the only point of contact. You look down and see it in her eyes: glassy and welled up; like was meant to be used like this, a vessel to provide and clean up the mess of every lap her tongue makes to your underside and the seam of your balls. An angel like her, her wings clipped after committing a damming act, hoping to earn them back in any way she can. When you slide your cock out of her slack mouth - slap the member across her swollen lips, eyes closed and jaw lowered as you’re leaving behind the sloppy and unmarked territory that you’ll come back to not long after.

She nods and gags. You want to make her fucking choke.

All of this should be drawn up as a one-off, never to be spoken of again. She didn’t have to go this far, being on her knees for you like this. Neither of you owe anything to each other. Some of this might have some meaning carried with the way that Rosé speaks with her eyes, mixed with a concoction of want and sorrowfulness, opening her mouth so wide for you to take with no remorse.

And when you cum deep into her throat, it’s all in her eyebrows - the way she accepts, poisoning your morality just like that.

The pulses do die down eventually, and Rosé tilts her head to the side to give you a better look at her swallowing your release; wiping her lip in a slight relishment, damp hair falling in front and her fingers dancing along the line of her jaw - internalizing the rewarding ache. Her eyes shimmer in the low lighting, her skin covered in this spreading glow of pale and glistening. Most of her lip gloss is gone, now mixed with the layer of smeared spit all over your cock. You’re cradling her head delicately, thumb grazing the temple and some of the ends of her hair, giving you a list of things to fix.

Rosé smacks her lips, and runs her tongue against the upper profile of her teeth. “Well then,” she starts, “hope that was enough to calm your nerves for the time being.”

You’re trying extremely hard to slow your breathing, watching while she brings a wrist to her face, wiping up the damage.

“We’re so fucked up,” you barely say, clearing your throat.

“Between us?” Rosé implies, finally rising from her knees and patting your shoulders down as an out-of-touch way to comfort, “That’s old news, buddy.”

You pull her in a bit again, placing the distance of her face to yours a little over the double digits. There’s no point in ignoring her gravity, the way that you find yourself a tad magnetized, bringing out a side where it was for her and only her. She could be an entity of a higher being, probably God’s given gift from himself which you once had lost. A blessing and curse that’s managed to find their way back into your arms again.

“Now that I think about it,” you’re saying, combing some of her blonde locks before ghosting your hand just above her head, “You’ve always been the same as before.”

Rosé’s eyelids dip, peculiar, curious. That sly grin at the corner of her lip laced with the dimple trailing not far after, it’ll do you numbers. It’s happened before.

But she puts a hand to the side of your face, a soft smile to seal the whole act up as she starts to peel away. “Think you can walk to the hotel in a straight line without my help?”

“You’re gonna leave me outside if you get there first.” You answer jokingly.

She might as well if she wanted to, and you won’t be that far behind.

—

Hangovers. They’re the worst.

Normally in times like these: you’d lie in bed facing up to the ceiling, playing back all the events and instances in your mind to the best of your ability, and then get washed by the feeling of regret or questions of why you did actions a, b, and c. Fuck around and find out they say, that’s how the learning experience goes.

Although this would be the exception-

“That’s all it took for you? Just the voice by itself?” Rosé asks you the morning after, tending to the wounds on your hands, easily stacked at the wrists, and caring for them with a mother’s touch. “If it were me, I would’ve hung up by the first five seconds of silence.”

“Here’s the thing: I’m not you.”

Rosé rolls her eyes and puts the attention back to your knuckles. She grazes them with her fingertips once the dried-up blood has been washed away and sealed with a bandage. Her hands alone may look small, but the size has been apparent compared to yours. “You broke the glass from that payphone booth, didn’t you?”

“If I kept retelling you what I did, would you believe me by then?” You ask flatly.

“I’m just-” she stutters for a second when she zips up the first aid kit, “-surprised, honestly - and don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen you angry before. I didn’t expect it to be that serious.”

“Wow. Way to beat around the bush I guess.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I know you are. Slightly.”

Rosé leans back to get more of you in view, examining the new patches to cover the temporary pain left because of your actions. The repercussions don’t have to be said when it’s already shown. Good thing you brought gloves for a reason - a proper excuse to keep your hands warm when the weather gets colder.

“Are you okay?” She asks after a brief period of silence.

Your head twists back towards her. “Hm?”

“I’m being genuine. Are you okay?” she says to you again, this time leaning to place her elbows on the table. “When I picked you up from the bar, you looked wrecked.”

“Which I was. So, you’re not entirely wrong here.”

Rosé then curls her fingers, resting her chin on top of them. Her eyes were full of concern. She doesn’t have to do all this - the nice, good girl willing to reconnect and rekindle even though you and her both know that things ended in a rough patch prior. She didn’t have to agree to go on the trip with you, but the intentions here are good - for the most part.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The inquiries from her keep on coming.

“I think we should come back to this topic when I’m in a better headspace,” you tell her, and she doesn’t bother asking anymore. “What about-”

“Huh?”

“I was gonna say something about, well-” you clear your throat before wiping the lower half of her face before finding the right words to deliver the next topic, “last night when we-”

“Don’t expect you to remember much. Being drunk is a valid excuse,” she tells you, crossing her arms together with a little furrow in her brows. “One-time thing. No strings attached. Got it?”

“Are you sure?”

She nods convincingly. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you murmur, massaging your temple.

“Okay,” Rosé echoes, knocking on wood twice for good luck. “I say we go out then.”

“What? Where to?” You dart back while she stands up from the seat, shuffling away to her luggage. “Uh, hey-”

Rosé snorts a bit, lets out a hearty laugh, one full of pure mischief. “I’m hungry. And we can put off room service for another time.”

–

“How many cafes have we been to in the past hour?” you’re asking Rosé, jaw dropped at the abundance of people waiting for their coffee orders ahead of you two. “Jesus, with this amount of caffeine, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

Rosé’s head turns, sipping the last bits of her beverage from the previous place you two were at, shaking the cup now full of ice. “Don’t give me that.” She laughs. “Jisoo was the one who recommended the places to me.” Her head leans back to get a few ice cubes in her mouth since the crunches are satisfying to her. “If anything, it’s your fault that you can’t keep up with-”

“I’d rather prioritize my health than drain it all away with a lot of drinks and a heart condition.” you sigh, taking the hint of her waving the cup in front of you to throw out, looking back out to listen for the number of your order. (They’ve been alternating from counting into the high forties and low twenties. It’s all confusing how any of this is efficient.) “Though the pastries and drinks have been amazing to try, so I thank you.”

She looks up at you again, flipping some of her back over her shoulder, flaunting a little shimmy of her shoulders. Like she’s aware of the praise, the compliments, the credit, and everything else lying underneath the verbal nuances. “Perks of having me as your foodie guide for the tour.”

“You’re so stupid,” you say, gaze dropping down to your feet in disappointment.

A nudge to your shoulder is all she gives before turning her body away. “Such a bitch.”

“Preaching the truth,” you reply - a hum in the timbre, playing into the banter. “That’s why they paired both of us together: toothbrush and toothpaste. peas in a pod-”

You flinch a bit when she raises a hand, but you can’t help yourself to laugh as she surrenders the idea of making a scene in public. It’s all good fun in the end, a breath of fresh air.

Then the matcha order gets called up, perfect timing.

–

You and Rosé do celebratory cheers with the clear plastic cups, swirl the tea inside before drinking a good third of it down, nod, and acknowledge the amount in addition to the taste. She then asks you to give it a rating - where you place it pretty high on the given scale.

“That’s really good,” you say, wetting your lips for another sip.

“What’d I tell you?” Rosé asks after, all comfy with her drink in both hands, watching you take in another swig because why not? “This place might be the best one on the list.”

“You mean Jisoo’s list,” you tease. “But sure, you can claim this list as yours since she’s not here to protest against it.”

“Right. I’ll do exactly that.”

You take notice of the same gaze that she’s been holding for the past few minutes now. It’s probably too late to realize that it's a honey trap: the more that your curiosity gets the best of you, the more likely that you’ll forget about everything else. A good look at her rosy cheeks, the stray strands of blonde hair sticking out because of the fuzziness that her scarf is emitting, much to the point that you can’t even see her neck beneath all of that.

“Sorry,” you’re saying, leaning your head sideways more to get a closer look. Nobody’s falling for it, especially not her. “There’s a stain right about-”

Rosé keeps her hands right where they are in holding the drink, eyes glued to your hand ghosting her face, the slightest touch where you’re cupping her jaw to keep it in place. You do manage to get the small mess off but make no other move.

She turns her head slightly towards your hand, parting her lips; and a part of your head starts to flip internally.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Rosé proposes, you think it’s intentional like she wanted you to do that. You can see it in her alluring shade of whiskey, clouded with mystery, shrouding a burning sensation behind those irises, blinking prettily.

“If I told you, it won’t happen later.”

“Oh yeah?” Rosé tuts, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth, and dips her head a few inches. “I’m intrigued,” her voice is a witch’s spell. She scoots herself towards you, closing the bubble away from the world, the moment alone stretched longer than usual.

“I shouldn’t kiss you,” you tell her, practicing caution. A last reminder thrown up in an imaginary white flag.

“But you could, right?” Rosé says in the sheerest hint of innocence, but the message says all sorts of corruption, "Where's the harm in that?”

Setting yourself up for the mind-meld was always a tall task, especially with a girl like Rosé. You could rationalize how the universe has managed to put you on this tightrope, with no hope of making it to the ends; the only choice would be to embrace this fall from grace, and feel every emotion.

She inches closer, the intent clear as day. “Y’know,” the tension is already hanging low amongst the both of you, “I’d be okay with it.”

–

(Look. Saving yourself the embarrassment was always going to be a lost cause. Consider it as a premonition, the tug of anticipation of playing things out the way they are, rewind the clip or recording to catch something new every take; a wish to alter the cause and effect. No matter how you look at it, what’s done is done.)

–

The intimacy itself gets thrown out the window, and finding a proper hold would be a lesser worry to think about. Rosés frantically slithering out of her overcoat, biting your lip in what you assume is an accident, and pressing her into the wall catches her off guard and she bumps into your face. Your thumbs are at her cheeks, holding her face in place, and the hooded eyes get pulled away; you’re thinking, she’s thinking - and all she can say is, “don’t start having second thoughts now.” It’s another green light from her to pick up where you left off, feel her arms have no sense of direction until they finally rest around the crooks of your neck and shoulders, quick draws of air passing through each other’s lips until you and her eventually fill in that space once more.

Even if there’s no label between you two now, the knowledge is already present there in the low lights.

“Let me remind you,” you’re telling her, smiling as her tongue clashes with yours, scrunching up your neck as her hands are working fast to slip you out of your top. “You started this.”

Her chin tilts up, grazing the peak of your jaw, lips trained on yours and kissing like it’s second nature; since she exactly remembers how to wind you up, unraveling. The scrunch of your neck goes away once the top falls along the floor, making out with you for what feels like it’s been forever.

“Maybe I did,” says Rosé, landing another kiss on the line of your chin, hand caressing the back of your head, unwilling to let go of you. “And can I be honest? I don’t hear you complaining about it.”

“Now why would I?”

She leans back against the drywall, arm up as if you were holding her by the wrist, but you aren’t - at least, not yet. Puffs her chest up with the help of the arch behind. “That’s the question,” she answers, hand palming the seat of your pants, fingers curling slightly, “That’s always the question.”

A window of opportunity is here. You can see it. She could lay out all the hints in front of you and you wouldn’t need all of them to figure her out, because you know: she loves being so forward, only for her to be held down, give her little to no wiggle room where her hands can leave major damage, the teasing; you’ll shut her mouth up with a pillow to her face or your hand and watch her eyes crunch together until she breaks. There’ll be times when she wants to rush, and you’d go slow, then vice versa. The grip you have on her hip isn’t nice, and you’ll keep kissing her, be very meticulous in the approach, and make her go insane.

Her muscles, let alone her body tense at the touch, shying a smile away as if she’s afraid to admit it herself. “But I gotta say,” Rosé whispers, her breath canvassing over your lips. “Doesn’t this feel nostalgic? Like old times?”

And here is where you’re practicing plausible deniability: since she’s right. A brief flash of all the times; all the instances that occurred in the past. She’s got her shirt off, and it helps jog the memory a lot more too - how you’d hold her down and just revel in the whimpering noises that escape her mouth, embracing every acre of her body; it’d be so easy to mold into her, you know from experience.

“Okay seriously,” Rosé’s saying, the rush of bliss spilling all over her face when your hands trail up and down the sides of her waist. The smile she’s bearing is a whole lot more apparent now the more your mouth is left slack open, eyes ogling without doing a single blink. “I forgot how you like to take your sweet ass time in adoring me - fuck, it’s even worse when you’re not even saying anything, like, at all, I swear to God, please, just-”

You’re paying no attention as you’re scouting out the different pieces that need peeling away off her figure. The shirt’s already off from the start. You manage to stop your hands from dancing along the waistline of her pants, hold her leg up as you’re pulling from the cuff at the bottom, keep her second-guessing with a few kisses to her stomach, brush your nose along the lace of her panties and scrape a bit of your forehead into the line of her bra. There might be something wrong with you; but hey, she’s on the same boat as well.

Once all of that’s off and disregarded, you’re claiming long lost territory - marking up everywhere to be examined at the scene of the crime when it’s all done and dusted: her chest, her neck, the collarbones, her nipples already primed to the point, the subtle hint of muscle in the abs, you’re finding a way back.

Rosé’s breathing is heavy with heat over your ear now, palming her pussy folds now exposed to the open air. “Yes - okay. Okay. I get it- jesus,” she’s stuttering as the reaction starts to traverse throughout her body. Your fingers are dancing along the dangerous area, playing with fire. You can remember the nerves being so responsive, and electric, it’s beautiful to watch in real time. “Look- you win, I’ll help. Whatever you need. I’ll do it.”

“That so?” you ask. She’s holding herself in place as best she can along with your hand, an acknowledgment, take account of the slick soaking the grooves of your fingers. You kiss her and smile against her lips - teetering on the edge of cruelty and excitement. “Jokes on you sweetheart, I knew you’d always be good for me.”

The devil is already in the details: pinning her to the wall and burying your fingers into her cunt. She keens when you slip in one finger, then two. Her sighs, singing this harmony that urges this need for it to be silenced; so you get your lips to the line of her collarbone - or, her lips resting right above the cuff of your ear, leg curling to the backside of your thigh, rising to the end of your ass. You let it slide when she pulls you in deeper into her body with her arms, the weight of your front crushing her chest a bit, which she’s okay with.

“There.” Rosé does a mix of a bob and a shake of her head, “yes, oh-”

You’re building an idea. One that hasn’t seen the light in your mind ever since the preceding one was ripped apart from you so suddenly. She keeps on gasping as you find the spots - the familiar ones where you’ve killed her before, pressing deeper and deeper into the stretch of that satisfying warmth spreading into your hand. The trembling in her body is already a stark implication of your craft becoming true. A little of a wiggle here, the push of the stretch, opening her wide. Her eyes fixate on yours, and her mouth loosens with each parting breath.

“Y-you-”

“There she is,” you murmur, the lower half of your face twisting into a sinister smile.

All she could do was nod, like she was admitting; almost as if she wanted this.

“Hold still for me,” you’re instructing, and the tone in the phrase is so gentle that she agrees to the request easily. She’s surrendering herself to you. An unspoken truth in itself. You can see the twinkle behind the rings of her irises, her shoulders drop as a result of all the muscles and bones finally relaxing after being so pent up. Something shifts in you, maybe an act of desperation; a moment where your ego is fractured. It happens when you’re pressing your cheek against hers, whispering into her ear as you put your fingers back into her cunt: “You’ve missed this, so much, haven’t you?”

Rosé winces. You can feel the clamp in her pussy and jaw.

Her nose scrunches as well, doing everything she can to not unfold the stricken nerve, so she mouths instead. “Yes. God, yes.” She can’t focus at all when her head hits the back of the wall and you’re leaving your lips into her neck. “I regretted it - so much, so fucking much. Wanted you to forgive me, to come back and-”

Shit. She got you there. The honesty alone might come as a shock to you.

“I tried so hard to move on. To forget,” she barely breathes, her voice clearer than ever, like she’s ignoring the fact that you have two curling digits inside that unbelievable cunt of hers, gripping, thighs pressing together into your hand and keeping it there; a makeshift shackle. It didn't take much to push her buttons and rile her up, get her cursing and spilling out incoherent nonsense since she can’t think straight due to the rubbing from the bottom of your palm. “The apology was there, but you were already gone-”

The more she speaks, the more she sends your common sense down into a spiraling cyclone. Your hand keeps working her leaking slit while the other hikes up her leg - let her carry the weight in holding your body as she’s mindlessly humming against your mouth; even though she’s still trying to speak, that’s fine as it is. Maybe you’re doing yourself a favor jumping face first into this hell, or Rosé herself is just helping you get there faster-

She knows what she wants. It’s a bit pathetic, a contrast to her condescending attitude that’s been peeling away little by little. Her slick is so smooth around your fingers, twirling and sliding with no care for her responses at all. You could kind of hear her say ‘I'm sorry’. Almost, you’re not entirely sure, but the endless nods and welled-up tears prove that there’s a psychotic factor occurring in your mind.

“Gonna cum for me?” you ask, and she puts on this faint smile before her head lolls up and back towards the wall. “Your hips are shuddering by the second.”

Rosé doesn’t say anything except for the staggered breaths from your hand working her and giving no care to fucking with your fingers. She tries to grip onto something; a hand, shoulder, the back of your head - whatever she could try to get her mind to not focus on you. It’s pointless. The precipice and final peak of her high is there in her eyes; locked to your face, focusing and unfocusing.

She cums. And she looks strikingly astonishing when she finally melts down.

“Cat got your tongue?” You ask again, expression slightly satisfied as the arms around you hold her down, pinning her. “That’s too bad, ‘cause I was gonna say that you look good like this-”

Her hips buck forward, pussy gushing a bit more on your fingers, wetting them. “God, y-you- fuck-”

A pinch of her clit is all you give her and she’s practically not there anymore.

The cries coming out of her reverberate around the room. Her mouth is still hung open when you relieve some of the pressure of your face on hers, eyes slowly trying to blink through the orgasm as much as possible. The front of her body falls forward, her cunt piping hot - or well, that’s just the final part of the warmth washing over with the need for another outlet to take it all in.

“Maybe I should just let you have it, huh?” you tell her as you get your hands to her waist and thigh again. “Do you think you deserve my forgiveness after what you did?”

“Yes, yes.” Rosé answers. You’re finding it hard to be convincing - as if she couldn’t say it any other way when you’re hovering her over to the bed and the nodding starts to become more frantic, desperate.

When she finally lands back first on the bed, you don’t give her any room to breathe as her body naturally arches when you’re pressing your weight on top of her again. And that’s the venom working its magic through your mind and body; she’s managed to get you craving for more without doing much.

This is her checkmate to you. She wants you so fucking bad that if you don’t get your dick inside her in the next few minutes, the damage to follow after would honestly be catastrophic.

In all fairness, you want her. It’s that simple. You’re willing to hold her down and fuck her senselessly, give her no care until she’s a pure puddle of mush. The hand holding you is calculated, precise; palm to the side of her face as she sighs at the touch. Gentle, yes. Her head tracks yours as you admire the winding mess that’ll get worse eventually.

“I want you to say it,” you tell her, accidentally leaning down to bump your nose with hers. “To be sure. Rosé, I-”

“Need you-” Her body tenses while her mouth drops to a new low, the sudden shift in her body too much to bear. You manage to wrap yourself around her, sliding slowly; spreading her legs wider until that ache rests on your muscles and hers. The drag of her fingernails on your back keeps your attention on her, zeroing in on the tightness of her waist when you’re adjusting to the right angle and depth, suspending you not to think about anything else besides her. “Like this- oh, yes- right there, fuck it’s so big, holy shit-”

“Christ,” you hiss; Rosé’s front rises to where your stomach is, squirming until you get a proper hold of her hips at the crease where the top of her legs are, putting her in place. You’re shaking your head here, trying to stay conscious; Rosé’s eyes fall to the back of her head, blinking lethargically. Her cunt’s smoothing out all the ridges and veins, clinging with a melting grip that you’d want to bury yourself in for as long as you’re with her.

She bites down a cry, and the whines can only be covered so much when she’s eating away at your face, hips snapping up slowly.

You use the adjustments wisely, watch as her expression carefully unravels right in front of your eyes, until you have a proper hold of her legs where it’ll hurt, pulling her into your cock. The first smack of skin and drive up her spine snaps - like a cable cut, a live wire - the thread of curses and the cauldron of praises fall out so nicely past her lips. She locks her arms around your back, get her pussy in a position where you can take it deep and wreck her like clockwork-

“Okay, okay. I get it now- jesus girl,” you moan out, the sound partly broken, “You win. I, fuck-”

So you manage to bury your dick inside her, saying her name and it freaking destroys her. Some of the slaps of skin match your heartbeat from time to time, the pace nice and consistent, kissing to comfort as she swallows down the first wave of sobs.

“Yeah, yeah. You know - you’ve always known,” Rosé groans. “Ugh-”

“Talking too much,” you mutter right back at her, breath hot and all over the skin of her cheek, pressing, a slight grin forming between your lips. “You don’t sound sorry enough.”

Her face then matches the same lazy smile, tugged at the corners. You’ve barely made a dent into her and it isn’t enough. The focus is clear; right in her eyes, lidded and glossy. But she flutters her lashes shut, nodding profusely again, when you’ve nudged your cockhead into the spot where you’ve killed her before, another move made. “Yes I- I am. I am, I am, I am.”

There’s not much to follow up on. The pace is already set. The one-two; slide out and drop the pin right back where it belongs. Rosé pulls you in with her lips, ankles linking to the backside of your thighs, holding her by the middle of her waist. It’s a natural transaction of sorts, the opening of old terms - matching what one wants along the other.

Maybe you’re returning the favor in a way with her - which you are. Your vision is already becoming hazy, the clamp of her cunt all over your cock the only point of focus and consciousness keeping you sane. Nothing else outside you two mattered at this moment, hidden away within these very walls of the room as Rosé’s hips started to stutter again when you bottomed her out.

And when she whines, a high pitch rather than a lone note, the part has never been made clearer.

You remember how you’ve fucked her in this fashion: burying your face into her chest, nails digging into the scalp of your head, holding you so close and tenderly - like she was afraid of losing you again, powering through the second time she cums all over your cock, the mixing of her sobbing and sniffles when you’ve pushed her over that edge once more, urging you to keep sinking into her willingly - even when the precision starts to lose its fine touch.

Even when her body starts to go limp, you play the nice gesture of raising her legs a little higher, getting her ankles planted right to the small of your back, opening up the deep, melting hollow of heat underneath you.

“Rosie. Oh, Rosie- my Rosie-” you mumble softly beneath the repeating hymn of your name on her tongue. “My god, you’re fucking crazy.”

“I want it- want you,” she sighs, palm to your cheek as her eyes lock with yours again. Christ, she knows what the fuck she’s doing, you need to fuck her properly, get your cock embedded right in her cunt where the warmth is at the hottest, filling her up and sliding smoothly along her slick walls to the point where she’ll have to repeat in the request - will you? Please, you fuck me so well - I swear, right there, this pussy’s always been yours, nobody else’s-

“How I’ve missed this,” you confess. The drag of her fuckhole is that lethal, and reverts you to old ways. The regret will cross your mind again soon, you’re sure of it.

“Cum baby.” She tells you, basically letting you do so. The velvety walls are just too much for you to handle. You could feel the coil tighten in your abdomen, the grip of her legs in your hands now leaving their red marks across her pale skin, cock hitting the same spot of her cunt over and over, relentlessly pounding and grinding her lower half into a mere puddle. “I want you to cum.”

The air within you gets sucked right out of your lungs, boiled over to a stream of strained groans and heavy exhales - two more strokes inside her creaming cunt before you grasp on the last bit of energy to tug yourself out, painting all over the fine plane of Rosé’s waist, pumping your load out. A hand gets planted to the side, holding you upright, her voice also in its high octave, begging and speaking in tongues as the ribbons of white find their place across the blush ambered skin.

“Fuck- holy fuck,” she sighs again, eyelids lifting up as you hobble over from the sudden blood loss from your head, bumping into hers as you tap the numb of her clit with your tip once, twice, the loose sobs sounding heavenly, pulling you back to your senses. “Oh god - it feels so good all over me. Yes.Yes. It’s so good, keep teasing my pussy like that, I know you love it, shit-”

Even after getting her brains properly fucked out, the slurs of her words spilling out are still coherent. You take a moment to breathe, calm down the irregular heart rate as best you can, and watch as Rosé takes a fingertip to her stomach and collects some of the mess left by you. She’s so shameless, tattered, reaping the reward in all of its glory.

“Satisfied?” You ask, rubbing her lip. Her blush is amazing to look at, a slut like her owning the part as if she’s meant for it. It’s true. The afterglow makes her ten thousand times more alluring than how she was back at the cafe when she planted the idea of those dirty thoughts slowly formulating in the back of your mind. All you have to do is just look at her-

It’s easy to read and take a step back; because giving her more would be a guarantee on the cards. Her palm lands on the left side of your chest, feeling your heartbeat. You indulge in pulling a wisp of her hair off from her forehead, those doe eyes looking up at you while she treats herself by licking up your load off her fingers.

She hums. It’s only the two of you. Everything you or her ever needed is trapped in this space.

Rosé teases with the tip of her tongue, showing the evidence being down into the space of her mouth - in her throat, seeing her neck bob up while her head tilts to this sultry gaze, a damming smile forming again, hinted with a small peek of her teeth. She then manages to get a hand around your length - fingers still soaked with your cum, languidly pumping without care - since the reaction could be substituted as a reflex. “I think you have more to offer for me.”

“God, Rosé-” you say, and she just laughs; the sound alone is impossible to ignore, but her snark, the words and things she tells you from time to time - it alters your brain chemistry. She’s always been like this.

“What? Am I wrong?” She asks, ghosting your upper profile to give you the hint that she needs some breathing room, rolling herself over where her back is now in view, and not to mention her fucking ass-

“No, you’re not,” you answer, hovering over the nape of her neck, pressing a few kisses down the curve. “If anything, you’re doing a terrific job of keeping my mind off of certain things.”

Her knees dig into the mattress, lifting her backside to the front of your hips, her slick still there, smothering the top of your length. You hold her down from the shoulders and slide your knees up to the proper placement. She’s giving an offer, alright - one that you simply cannot refuse.

“Good.” Rosé chuckles, breathing low as you’re grazing the head of your cock over the pucker of her ass, teasing it around her folds. “I hope I can keep up the work for you. Make you not worry about any other thing besides me. God that would be amazing. Can you? For me?”

“Make me fuck your brains out as my only worry,” you concur. “Doesn’t sound that bad to do again.” Her head dips down into the sheets when you’ve got your cock slowly working its way back into her creaming pussy, hips becoming flush with yours, relishing in the perfect fit - the gorgeous press of those walls, it does something to a man.

You’re imagining the widest smile on her face, knowing that she’s won you back. It doesn’t make sense yet, the bits and pieces of your mind not lining up with the actions. Rosé’s yelp gets muffled, in response to the press of her lower half into the mattress, hands pressing both asscheeks together, tightening the noose around your length, letting the drag make your cock throb even harder.

“I’ve fucking missed this,” she rasps, the last exhale shoved out of her once you’ve managed to nudge your cock back inside her. The latter of everything is this: the steady breaths, the audible slide of slick, and the slap of skin.

A hand reaches out to her hair, holding her head down to the mattress along with the rest of her body, arm slithered to the underside where the waist is, a placeholder as your hips snap forward. The whimper she lets out is a clear implication that your bag of tricks is doing a number on her.

“Taking me so well. God, Rosie. This pussy is amazing. Look at you,” you praise, growling as she continues to babble beneath your touch.

And the innocent giggles can hide so much of the absolute pleasure she’s enjoying. She’s a real-life venus fly trap: pulling you in with her smile, her eyes, and her charisma; only for you to be wrapped around her little finger and quite literally, her leg. “How cute. You were full of shit not that long ago. For a second I figured you’d be having second thoughts.”

You smack her ass and grab both sides of cheeks on her face. A statement. A warning.

“Watch your mouth,” you grit, and you swear that you’ll stay true to your word.

“Alright, just- ah, fuck me, like that. Your cock hit that same- hngh! Please, just fuck me like you mean it. Rail my ass until I’m on my knees apologizing. I promise, just dick me down-’

The pace picks up and you’ve lost all remorse. You’ll bounce her cunt on your cock regardless if she’s asking for it or not. In the present case that she is, giving it to her was an easy decision. Her pussy is the missing piece of a puzzle that you always wanted to complete anew, and it’s right in your hands and on your hips.

Rosé’s face twists over her shoulder, eyes fluttering in unadulterated pleasure, tensing and unraveling each passing stroke you have on her. The secret’s already out: you missed her, and she missed you. You’ll have the desire to take this moment away and put it in a chest, only for it to be tossed to the bottom of the sea, where no one else will know of its existence.

“Have me over and over,” she says, “if that’s all you ever wanted, I’d let you.”

You weren’t sure what you were getting yourself into, and when you’ve made her cum the second time, and third soon after - she’s a sobbing mess, voice wrecked, you’re also there with her, she’s got you by that much.

–

The first snowfall meets the cloudy skies when the light peeks through the drapery. Or at least when your vision is coming around while Rosé’s posture straightens when she sits up - clutching the comforter from the bed close to her body as she looks over her shoulder to you. Her friz of bed hair is apparent at the ends, not to mention her bare back, the first hint of red marks at the bottom of her neck - you’re drawing the assessment up as you go.

“Cold?” you ask, leaning your head back into the pillow behind. “That’s a shame.”

“Says the one who doesn’t have anything on along with me,” Rosé chuckles, swirling around facing you. You’ll be left there to just observe and stare more times than you can probably count on your own ten fingers.

Then she lets the blanket fall; her version of a curtain raiser.

It isn’t anything new really, but you catch yourself blinking a lot faster than usual; the blotches of red spread across her chest, mixed with the paleness of her skin. Her waist emulates this hourglass shape that almost looks unreal for one to have; there’s also neck and collarbones, and you’re looking everywhere from her face to her hips - lustful would be an understatement of her efforts.

“You could give me one of your hoodies again,” she’s saying, sliding her hands into the crease beneath her shoulders, looking down to the crimson marks.

“Tempting.”

She tilts her head the other way, a soft hum reflected off her smile. The rosy blush is a highlight; the reruns of all the moments with her keep coming back, and you’re certainly here for all of them. “You can’t turn me down.”

“And if I did, it would be a tragedy,” you say, pulling her into your embrace as she spins around again, her hand scratching the side of your head, nose buried into the curve of her neck, “thankfully, that won’t happen with you.”

“Let’s go exploring the city today,” Rosé proposes, back arching to the adjustment of your hold. “I can put in a reservation for that one restaurant with the fancy snails and seafood.”

“Isn’t that like-” you snort, “eighty percent of the restaurants around here anyway?”

“Only if you’re not looking deep enough.”

“Your call,” you agree, turning your head to put a proper kiss, tasting the sweetness of cherry or strawberries. Her fingers trail across your forearms while yours are grazing her waist, her breasts - you’re one for physical touch, a little too much for your liking but in this case is it justified? Absolutely. Who wouldn’t? “I can carry you to the shower if you’d like.”

Rosé’s eyes close, fluttering. Lips pulled inward to a smirk. She’s enthralled with the notion - the affinity of how you treated her before. “Mmmmm. I think: yes please.”

–

(So you do carry her. Frankly, your fingers digging into the plush skin of her ass, sinking her back onto your cock; palms holding the tile, then slipping - her back to the wall as her feet dangle past your backside. Rosé’s moaning into the shell of your ear one second, kissing you the next - like the world would end at any given moment, hands pressing your face deeper into hers in the wash of rain above, encouraging you to give in.

She was doing whatever it took to creep herself back into the nook of your mind, and so far it’s working; rewriting your nerves and synapses, corralling with her tongue and lips in all the ways that swept off your feet before, her grin against your chin all the easier to bite down and swallow. “You swear not to tell anyone about this, promise me.” The only telltale point of accountability laid out on the table, in the space opened between your lips and hers - a brief pause, stalled negotiations, ending with an everlasting proposition that you’ll submit to when she finally says:

“Not a soul. Promise.”)

–

You’re shrugging your shoulders up to your ears, hoping to keep in some of the heat trapped in your body. An instinct; and with the right amount of layers of fabrics, it makes the job a whole lot easier to do. Simple as that.

Rosé eventually did manage to steal one of your hoodies from your luggage. Not that you were complaining about it. As much as you hate to admit it, the girl did have a knack for styling different articles effortlessly to the point where you can’t even tell if she’s wearing your clothes or her own. She’s got a red scarf for today’s outing, properly complimenting the other shades below while she’s fixing her appearance in the mirror of the restaurant, patting down her hair with you coming right behind to transfer some of the warmth onto her.

You’re getting a few whiffs of her perfume. Cinnamon and something rustic, cozy, and she just gives you a beaming smile off the reflection in front of you. Her hand goes into the pocket of her overcoat: a small digicam, turns it on and points it to the mirror - telling you to act candid or cute, whichever one happens to come first. The pull of your arms brings her closer to you, a familiar movement and rhythm when you leaned over earlier while getting ready, talking all sly and prettily as she creams all over your cock. She’s thinking about it also, even while the camera clicks.

“Would you look at that,” she exclaims, capturing the photo as a personal keepsake, and showing you the photo on the screen soon after. “We look good in this for once.”

Rosé notices your whole body freeze, rolling your eyes, “Uh, was that supposed to be an insult?”

Her face shifts to a quick scowl, taken aback by the question suddenly. “Why? Would you rather have me tell you that you’re fucking ugly instead?”

“Not true. But, hah. That does sound a lot more like you.”

Your gaze goes back to the glass, and Rosé takes another funny photo for the memories, looking over to the corner of your eyes as the snaps from the camera continue for a few seconds. “How’s my jacket?”

She pulls the hood to her nostrils, eyelids snapped shut, and inhales. The grin she has all over her face proves to be a clear indicator that the signs are all pointing towards positive. Her figure is still in reach of you, her front opposite to yours. “Comfy, for one,” she then looks up to your chin, syrup eyes looking up with a gentle gaze. “It’s a distinct smell. A one-of-one.”

“Corny.”

“And?”

“Pretty,” is what you end off with, petting her hair which earns you a nose scrunch. “Want me to add on?”

“You could tell me that I’m special, your angel, or something. Maybe say that I look good, y’know - to boost my ego. You being my one and only, the dream guy I’ve wanted for as long as I liv-”

“Don’t push your luck,” you’re grinning, because she’s planting the idea so well, the keywords and points of inference to decode and analyze. She’ll inflate your ego so much that you’d have to hold her down in your hands and fuck some proper sense into her - ‘cause it’ll happen again - probably because she deserves it, which is true.

–

Later, and by her arm linked to yours, Rosé pulls you into this music club. A jazz bar, or- just a place where they were having an open mic night, the songs having the earworm effect to the point where your feet are following hers.

The place opens up inside where the seating arrangements are segregated in pairs in the middle from the stage and outwards with the usual booths set at the sides. Some people are sitting, others are dancing, and then there are a few who are just casually conversing and really having a great time. But the wave of nostalgia is hitting a little harder than usual as they’re all riding along with the music.

“This place is nice,” she tells you, gently bobbing her head along to the cozy ambiance of the band playing on the stage, tugging the cuff of your sleeve towards some open seats to rest your legs and take a breather.

When you do finally settle your bearings, the seat under you becomes a lot more comfier, taking in the sights and sounds of the live music being performed right in front of you. It wasn’t that long also for the drinks to come flowing in; only this time, you’re more in line with your inhibitions and common sense all because there isn’t any impending stress plaguing your mind.

Once the setlist’s been played through, the main lead of the band calls out to the audience for anyone who would be interested in singing on the open floor. Pretty straightforward: just name the song for the band members to play and give them a few minutes to get adjusted to the demands of the piece; gotta say, they’re pretty good at what they do.

“I’m gonna go up there.” Rosé snatches your attention with her spontaneous plan. “It’s been a while since I sang in front of anyone”

You chuckle, because you remember how she was back in the high school choir years ago. “You’re serious?” The question comes off as rhetorical alone, but you sense that burning passion inside her that fuels everything in her enthusiasm. “By all means, go for it.”

“Got a song in mind?” She asks, hand resting on your forearm.

“Don’t have anything in particular,” you answer with a shake of your head. “Surprise me.”

With that, Rosé shoots her hand up high into the air. The band leader spots her out instantly and calls her up to the stage. Everyone’s eyes are drawn towards her - a mix of applause and whistles to solidify the encouragement, and here you are stuck in your seat hoping that nothing goes wrong while she’s up on stage. You have faith, and it’s just enough to stick by.

Her introduction is cute to watch; the way that she sounds sends your heart flipping for a millisecond: “Hi my name is Rosé. I’m not from here, but I’m super excited to perform for you guys tonight and I hope that you guys enjoy it. Thank you.”

You’d have to admit, she does look good when the lights are all on her.

She picks two oldies that you remember vividly because of your parent's music taste, and the final song catches you off guard, because of the way that she presented it-

“I’d just like to dedicate this last song to the number one that I hold most dear to in my heart. So if you’re listening to this, wherever you are, I hope you know that I will always root for you - even from afar.”

-being a classic Bruno Mars song since that’s been one of the few artists she’s been playing on repeat for the entirety of the trip. Her head moves and tilts in alternating directions, really just feeling out the music.

Once the final chords of the song get played out, the club erupts with a mix of cheers and claps, congratulating her for providing a wonderful show. The gratitude comes out naturally and she gives her thanks, occasionally landing her gaze over to you before looking elsewhere. She realizes the yearning, like how she sensed it while examining the art pieces up close as you were a few steps away.

It really gets you thinking, just how much you’ve fallen deeper back into the abyss with her.

–

At some point, you realize that you aren’t getting enough sleep as you’d like.

And no, it’s not because of the exhaustion of burying your cock deep into Rosé’s cunt, the slide of her folds becoming a relapse of an addiction long locked away. The lines become blurred between right and wrong, considering the incessant begging she keeps putting towards you where you give her exactly what she wants.

She’s laid on top of you, skin touching skin. You make do by clinging onto her small body since she likes that.

Rosé looks up, palm to your cheek, thumb canvasing the surface. She leans down for a peck - you lean up to meet her in the middle. Everything about this feels safe; your heart’s beating with a rise in tempo, every move of her hand and head an electric current across your body, the quick blitzes of craving for one another, pulling her close, wrapping her in your clothes, blowing air in the sensitive spots that get her going, whimpering.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: the ex.” She says to you, both hands now to the sides of your face, holding you like an award - a trophy.

“First of all, ouch.”

“Don’t take it to heart since you dicked me down not too long ago.” Her face turns over, listening to your heartbeat, legs tangling underneath the sheets. “It sounded a whole lot better in my head, so I thought why not say it out loud,” her tone filled with relief. “I’ve always spoken from my mind anyway, so how is this any different?”

“That’s-”

“I’m kidding,” Rosé laughs, “well- partly. I didn’t mean to hurt you again if that’s what you wanted to hear,” in a way she’s right; what also doesn’t help is her hand slithering down your front, to your hips, fingers coiling your length in record time.

You gasp, tensing up all the muscles in your body. “Fuc- Rosie-”

“These thoughts that I have, they’re the worst,” she’s telling this like some gospel - a fabled story or prophecy from an oracle, twisting and jerking your hardening shaft while sharing the madness of her hippocampus. “Well? What are you gonna do about it?”

When she slides you right back into her volcanic heat, your mouth drops. “I think we can figure that out together.”

She sighs, pressing her lips against your cheek, grinning. Her lower half has a mind of its own: grinding down and settling, where she stays.

–

You make love with her again. And she screams; it could be heard far and wide past the walls. A guarantee, you said. A promise. It's only you and her, after all.

–

There are multiple ways for one to sign off on their death sentence: a contract, a hearing, a proclamation; where one’s resolve is pushed to the brink where everything that transpires after has to be seen to the end until the lingering thoughts and repercussions are nothing more than just a distant memory. You knew what you signed up for when this trip had its inception, what’s to come when you’re put face first with someone who was supposed to be part of the last chapter in your story. Things like these can be rewritten on a new page for starters, but still keep all the details intact.

Rosé could be your judge, jury, and executioner for all you know - and still be the one to lure you into the dangerous pits of temptation.

“Holy shit,” you grit, voice tattered; Rosé’s head dips down as she plants both of her hands on your waist, and adjusts her legs until her heels are rooted into the mattress, testing the angle with an unprompted thrust by you.

“Don’t move too much,” she commands, the slide of your cock in her pussy slow enough to make you want to rush into it. “I’ll ride you like this. You don’t even have to do a thing.”

“God-” and the giggle she lets out in tandem with her devilish grin serves to be too much for you to bear. A lift up in her squatting position, and her petite ass slams on top of your balls - the deadly pin drop. “Fuck- you’re so good at that.”

A rise and fall. A one-two in stopping and gyrating. She’s riding you so delicately - in contrast to your style of holding her close to your chest and impaling her upwards. You feel the edge of her palm at your chin - to your bottom lip - and you bite down gently into her hand.

“I wanna feel it - all inside me,” she’s telling you, a phrase projected into existence, a claim. “Want your cum,” her confidence brightens so much when she’s the one in control, “so fucking bad.” She slides her feet out from under her, grinding harder against your hips, laying her body flat against yours, raising her ass again and back down; the angle is much more deeper than you anticipated. “Using this pretty cunt all for you. I know you like it.”

“For fuck’s sake,” you growl, and it’s a swear in itself, “can’t get enough of you - this pussy is a dream.”

“Uh huh,” her face crinkles when she ups the pace. “Tell me all about it. I’ll be your good little girl for you, babe.” This role isn’t her forte, but if the opportunity presents itself, she’ll own the part with flying colors. You could hear and feel the slick spread up to your waist; every gush, smack, and dragged-out moan was all part of a symphony created by you two. She effortlessly bottoms your cock out, and she whines.

Your arms slither around her back, keeping her in place. She whispers a ‘yes’ in your ears, and licks your temple.

“Grab me, fuck me. Make me yours,” she murmurs, happily kissing along your cheek as you spread yourself wider, getting the proper measurements right to ruin her.

The rest of the world fades out as Rosé’s breathing fills up your brain. “Rosé- I’m gonna- fuck-”

“Oh god- Yes! Baby, I’m close- keep going-”

When you inevitably cum inside her - filling her up, you’re coaxing through her sobs. Driving your shaft deep where each exhale is a staccato. Your lips find her neck, marking up skin, drinking in the sweat, fucking through her orgasm to the point where she’s pliant and quivering - tiredly nodding in approval and satisfied.

–

You’re no diplomat, but the advisable action of keeping your phone on do not disturb, limiting contact with anyone other than Rosé was entirely justified.

(By common sense, how could anyone keep in touch with their significant other after the heinous acts that they’ve committed? Our lives are not defined by any one action, but rather the sum of our choices. Everyone has their reasons - more or less - and sometimes, some don’t even need a reason at all.)

The messages do pile on throughout the week. Various texts at different times, all on different days. Each one is more desensitizing than the last.

jen: can you please call me?

jen: i’ll explain everything

jen: i’m worried sick

jen: pls just come home

You’ll deal with clearing out the notification bubbles sometime later when the time is right.

Rosé’s in the bathroom, door open to slip some of the excess steam out, towel to her bust. Most of the water is soaked into the cloth; her hair is half dry - half damp, combing a little at the ends with a brush, leaning on the door frame. “You think you can help me with something real quick?”

“Hm? And what would that be?” you ask, slipping on a shirt.

She’s in the middle of the walkway now.

“Just need some attention in a few spots,” Rosé says, very nonchalantly. Pulls apart the towel from the two folds, lets it pool at her feet. Her being naked isn’t enough to sway you into pushing her back into the shower and well- yeah. She knows it’s gonna take a lot more than just that. “Preferably the ones where you didn’t touch earlier, to be more specific.”

“Could’ve said you wanted more,” you laugh. “Didn’t have to sugarcoat it.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Rosé asks, deadpanning. She sways her body where her bare ass is now in view, hips moving side to side on the balls of her feet, looking over her shoulder to solidify the image. “We got a little more time on our hands and besides, it’s Christmas Eve.”

You’re back following her in a heartbeat.

–

You may be sloppy and shameless, but you are also very intricate in how you approach things. It’s in how your mouth moves: precise, calculated - licking down her slutty little waist, to her clit, getting everything you’ve ever needed between those glorious thighs of hers.

On your knees like you’re in reverence, you’re worshiping Rosé’s pussy; hoping that she could give you the blessing of eating her out like it’s your one-way ticket to heaven. The insides of her thighs press inward, her fingers in your hair pulling you exactly where she wants.

Rosé almost slides off the bathroom counter when she finally cums. She’s yelling her heart out, hissing through her teeth. Neither of you are thinking about the possible noise complaint that you’ll get for the sixth time this week.

“Fuck, yes,” she huffs, pressing your head harder with her legs. “Yes- yes, just that.”

You raise yourself and give your fingers the fill, nipple between your teeth while the knuckle curls inside-

She grasps at your neck - like you’re going off to war and she’s bagging on the chance she’ll never see you again, “Baby, I can’t say this enough,” she rasps, whining a high pitch when you hit her favorite spot, “I literally need you to ruin me,” and you nod, because you will.

Doesn’t take that long for her to cum again soon after, figuratively off the cliff face first. Her body goes limp, eyes glossy, panting as if she’s dehydrated. She keeps her legs closed, your hand caught in the crossfire, hoping that you’ll stay once the sun shines after the storm.

Once the clouds of lust finally pass the both of you:

“Good use of our time actually, what do you think?”

Rosé looks up to you, hand on her cheek, wiping the dry stream of tears.

“We can still go,” she sighs. “I just need a few more minutes because, fuck, can’t think straight when you’re staring at me while I’m like this.”

“Saying that I went too far?”

“No- but,” her groan makes you chuckle, “that’s not it. It never is, I-”

“I?” you carry on with the overhanging thought.

“I know that you have different sides, but this- this one is just- I don’t know, to me, it just feels right.”

She manages to get herself up from the edge of the bed, legs a bit wobbly but manageable. You’re patting down her overcoat and adjusting the scarf around her neck, cupping her face. Her hands find yours stacked on top.

“Not letting me go, hm?” Rosé asks, humming. “That’s not very kind.”

“Want me to carry you? ‘Cause I can most definitely do that, if it makes it easier,” and it comes off so casually. You’ll stay true to your good intentions, worrying about the punishment for the crime later.

Rosé nods, and looks down, kissing the crown of her head. She’s entrapped with this spell of desire, unsure of who got it first. It’s boundless, even when you’re hugging her. Boundless, and you’ve concluded that it’ll stay.

–

(The muddled wet-suck of her cunt. The grip. Her listless sighs and whimpers of praise plague your brain. You're having your fill; filling her up with your cock like old times. Like it's meant to be.

You fuck her again, and all it takes is one look, and she knows. It's plastered in those rosy pink cheeks at that lip bite that makes you crave her more - it's maddening.

An untethered devotion: you could give her everything she ever wanted.

If it takes the space left open in her heart, you'd pledge yourself to get her back without a second thought.)

–

The time’s ticking; the sands in the hourglass are almost at the bottom. Part of you is torn between finally getting this trip over with and stirred that you and Rosé will probably never see each other again in the coming days. Aside from the rough, raw sex, you also realize that it’s been pretty refreshing to reconnect with the girl that you shared a good third of your life with and fall into old habits as if nothing had ever happened between you two.

You’re starting to reminisce on how it had all gone wrong.

Rosé, without a care in the world, stares up into the deep blue sky. The Eiffel Tower still has some guests visiting, sightseeing, and enjoying the present company that they have. You have your phone in your hands, taking pictures of everything within distance. Each click that’s pressed is a reminder of what little you will have to cling to once this fever dream is all done and dusted.

She’s a bit out of arm's reach from you, enjoying the brisk weather and the overall ambiance that’s happening with the people around her. Her digicam in one hand, phone in the other. At some point she’s recording a guy that’s playing with his accordion, going down his list of Christmas carols, happily nodding along to the joyous tunes. She keeps on snapping photos wherever she happens to see or notice first. Canvassing the area, like a lighthouse with her phone in hand-

Until her camera finally lands on you. She’s snapping a photo of you. You’re snapping a photo of her.

(It’s a gunshot without the smoke. Yours and her version of Halley's comet flying over you. The realization settles in: you both fucked up.)

You stand there motionless - phone lowered and you just look at Rosé. She does the same. Time halts to a standstill as the both of you just admire one another. Your expression is stoic while her’s is filled with an expression that’s told by her glossy eyes and uneven breathing.

She moves without fail, running towards you; before you know it, she’s jumping in your arms, clinging onto you so hard that it’s nearly suffocating. Her sniffles are a lot louder now, and you start rubbing the back of her head in the same motion that you know brings her comfort.

“Hey-” Rosé stutters, burying her face into your collarbone. “I- I just, God, I’m such an idiot-”

“There’s no need for that,” you whisper, “I know. I know.”

Like always, Rosé’s face is in your hands yet again; wiping away the tears and cradling her as if nothing else had mattered. You chuckle at the sobs she lets out, and she hits your arm. “Can we-” you’re rubbing her head still to help gather her thoughts, “can we go back to the hotel now? I think we’re good for today.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll do that. Okay. Let’s go back.”

–

(Midway on the walk back, you decide to bet it all on the line. If it doesn’t happen now, the chances of it happening later become less likely.

“I need to stop by somewhere for a sec,” you’re telling Rosé with a sudden clutch of her hand to stop her. “Wanted to surprise you with a gift.”

Rosé furrows her brows together, but shakes her head, smiling. “Promise you’ll meet me back at the hotel?”

“Won’t be long, I promise.” You reassure, kissing her and her hand soon after.)

–

You’ve never been so fast to come back to someone in your life, bouquet of roses in hand like those tv melodramas that always milks the simple moment for absolutely no reason. This might feel like one of those moments, all honesty considered, but who’s really to judge when you’re preparing for the inevitable.

The keycard slots itself in, followed by the click of the lock once closed. You notice that the lights were already dimmed - the actual preference you and Rosé agreed on after the first night, the only difference was the trail of undergarments leading to the open area of the room.

And that’s when you see her.

She’s knelt on the bed, a singular rose in her hands. Her outfit is uncovered by the layers of pants, hoodie, and scarf - revealing a lingerie set on her that you’ve never seen before, painted in scarlet red. It highlights her natural complexion, not to mention her hair - she’s the literal image of your long-lost wet dreams come to life.

“Like what you see?” Rosé asks, staring while you remain motionless.

You drop the bouquet in your hand, not for dramatic effect of course, but in utter shock at how well the fabrics meld onto her clad body.

She takes the hint, moving herself closer to you, on the edge of the bed while your hands ghost her figure - unsure of where to even begin.

“I’ve said this countless times before,” you say, heart rate spiking when her palms land on your chest, “but you look amazingly good in that.”

Her hand pulls you by the neck, and gives you a quick kiss after that. “Why thank you,” says Rosé, lip caught to her teeth when your hands slide across the lower plane of her back, resting above her ass. “I had a few other options in mind, but I always knew that your favorite color was red.”

“Aw. So thoughtful.”

“Fuck you.”

“I will.”

Rosé laughs at that. Aside from the figurative meaning, she’s aware that you can back that up.

“Do you know why? Why I broke up with you then?” Rosé asks, face shifting to a wistful gaze. Your body freezes at the sudden question, wide eyes locked with hers as open as they can be. She twirls the rose in her fingers for a few seconds, places it at your middle, finding her words.

“Still can’t put all of that together, you know.” You’re telling her.

“We were young back then. We still are.” She confesses, palm to your chin as you’re doing the same. “I thought that you didn’t care how we were - like you didn’t love me anymore. Even at first now, you were such a fucking dick-”

“Ros-”

“Shut up, let me finish. It made me realize at that moment where I- I tho-” her words are becoming more and more shaky, you can tell in the irregular breathing, “I thought you fell out of love with me.”

The harsh sting of truth still hurts when you’re thinking back on it for a second. It wasn’t a one person show, however, but you contributed to most of the downfall of the relationship in the past. You’ll own up to the mistakes somehow, someway; if you had the chance, you’d do it without a second thought.

“It made me realize, this whole trip, I saw the old you,” Rosé confesses, keeping her emotions at bay as best she can, “Like how did you know that I’ve wanted a dream trip to Paris for the longest time? How long did you work on this before we- oh, right.”

You’re laughing a bit here. Could be the psyche of trying to not come to terms with the feelings. “Use your words, it’s okay.”

“You treated me so well this past week, putting up with my shenanigans and such, forcing you to walk wherever I go but I’m just- fuck. It fucking sucks with how we are now.”

“I’m still hurt too,” you admit, wiping a tear off of Rosé’s cheek. “I hoped that us being here would give us some closure - which is working, but I also hope that we can still be happy as friends once all of this is over.”

Rosé nods, sniffling. “Won’t be easy, but we can try.”

You seal your lips with hers, finally breaking the dam of longing that you’ve been holding back until now. Her mouth burns a hum down her throat, hands weaving across your shoulders, the passion instantly infectious.

She pulls away with a heavy sigh, “Prove it.” The words match her eyes of determination and urging. “Make love to me.”

You’re not far from her, and you’ll follow no matter what.

Her face is hot: scorching and engulfing at the same time. She’s quick to slip you off of your jacket - your hands fiddling with the lace decorated all over her body, pulling on your bottom lip, giving you no chance to regroup and re-hit the areas that you want to take; she’s prioritizing in keeping you close, unwilling to loosen her arms once the grips have been set.

The fingers find the small latch of her bra, feeling her chest rise in your other hand.

She’s peeled you off of your shirt, claiming scratches on your skin.

You’ve got an angel within your reach - from the echelons of heaven and earth above. She’s gracing her presence onto you to the point where you will do anything to prove your devotion to her, hoping that she’ll grant you your deepest wishes - and make you forget about your darkest regrets.

Rosé’s so responsive and you love it. Her octave goes up a key when you’re fondling along lone breast; dividing and conquering in two places at once with your other hand palming the dampness of her panties. She pulls you onto the bed, a lasso of truth that you’ll always submit to. Whispering sweet nothings, begging you to keep going; telling you more, more, and more.

Your eyes, no matter how many times you’ve dozed off into the distance, have always landed back on Rosé in some way or form. Amidst everything, you’re magnetized to the way her eyes looked now: dangerous, wanting, hooded - as if the shades of lust have completely taken over her thoughts and with her as the vessel to carry all of those bad deeds out, as if you were the only one who could control this growing feeling.

When she finally settles on the pillows, the heat’s already become too infectious, her face flushed and lips generally parted, waiting for your return. You go for her neck, and her body tenses, back arching and heels sliding up the sheets, unsure of where to rest as you’re catering to her lovely neck.

“How bad do we want this?” you start, fingertip to your lip before wetting it. “You up for it?”

Rosé bites her lips as always and nods. “Fuck,” she gasps, taken off guard by your lips to her collarbone again. “I want it.”

A press deep into the slick center of her panties only solidifies what she’s implying.

Her hands work with yours, sliding her out of the last piece like clockwork, her tongue clashing against yours as she shuffles herself up against the headboard, but you lean down to keep her in place. The sooner you pin her down to reach her soft spots, the more likely she’ll break within minutes - it’s all part of the plan.

Giving her a heads up wasn’t an option, and that’s proven so when your fingers slide up against her slick folds, getting a feel for what’s to come when you eventually push inside and spread her open, teasing by dipping no more than your fingernail into her cunt, rubbing her clit to up the sensitivity.

“You fucking tease, I know- ah-” she spits, squirming at your touch, the friction becoming a necessity. Her inner thighs press together, holding your hand hostage. That only prompts you to traverse your fingers deeper into her pussy, and she moans. “R-right there.”

She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, or her legs, let alone her entire body in this state. The pleasure is too much to bear, and the snowball effect keeps on building. You kiss her again to keep her mind off the finger fucking you’re doing to her; she digs her nails into your forearm, pulling you by the neck to deepen the lip lock. As much as you’d love to eat her out into the night, the way that she is right now is just enough for your satisfaction.

“God, yes- fuck-”

You know that she’s almost there; all it takes is a little push. She’s grinding her hips against your hand, the three digits inside her too much to handle. Each whimper and moan and sigh she lets out is nearly bittersweet to hear and witness - pitiful that she got herself like this for you, and there’s nothing that she can do about it.

“Gonna make you cum so much,” you say huskily, pressing your forehead against hers as you feel her eyebrows mesh and rise, unsure of what to focus on. But you know exactly what it is, and it’s that euphoric rush that she won’t admit to having a craving for. “Can you do that for me? Be my good little girl and do as I say?”

Her bobbing goes frantic; she doesn’t care either way, it’s happening regardless.

“These fucking fingers,” Rosé grits, her first words that aren’t an ‘mmm’ or ‘ah’ or ‘hah’ in a while. “Baby, baby, holy shit, you’re fucking me so well with your hand, I’m so close- shit, I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah? Let go, Rosie. I want to see you cum for me.” She pulls you in to keep her mind off of your hand, hips bucking at an insane rate. You could feel the shake in her thighs, sliding in and out of her cunt - the press of your thumb on her clit an additional point of pressure. Her eyes open and close, lazily matching the pace of your fingers and steadying.

All it takes is one more slide; one more press, and she’s fucking gone.

The sight is the holy land you’ve managed to see time and time again: watching her cum on your fingers. It’s in the rosy blush spread on her face, and you’re pretty sure that she’s squirted a bit onto your arm, but you bear no mind to that.

“There we go, would you just- look?” You’re enamored, amazed. Your Rosé is so pliant and willing to let you have control so easily that it shouldn’t be this straightforward to do.

“God, the fucking mess. Rosé-”

And the sigh is just heavenly.

She’s shaking her head in disbelief. Your fingers are still inside her, hauling past the edge of her orgasm that she can’t do anything about it.

You eventually give her a minute or two to breathe. Because she deserves it.

Unfortunately: one thing was never going to be enough for someone like Rosé.

Because she’s the kind of person who will always want to see things to the end. Usually, there’s a pause, a breather, probably the overhanging thought of what you’ve done to her again for the thousandth possible time on this trip - in these four walls - a glass of water would also suffice, or a bathroom break, but not tonight.

Rosé’s fingers are fast around the button of your pants, and you get the hint right away. You can easily tell from the glint in her eyes that if you don’t take her cunt and fuck her apart the way that she wants, there’s certainly going to be irreversible damage. This is all you are doing. It’s the match of madness that you don’t want to admit but accept wholeheartedly.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re insane?” You ask, hand coiling her waist, pulling her close, thumb at the edge of her belly button.

“Hmm, I think someone has, but I might need a refresher of sorts,” Rosé replies, a sultry smile as she watches you lick up her mess spread across your digits. “Add that to the number of things you’re willing to fix.”

“Who said anything about fixing?” You dart back, reining her in by the waist, listen close to the stack of laughs, break down with every rumple and fold you do to her arms and legs.

She glances at your throbbing cock waiting at her entrance, slipping the tip right in as a test, the rest to follow along until the noises coming out of her are broken, relieved.

“Okay,” she’s saying, shimmying down your length, and raising her hips. “Impress me.”

So, you get one thrust in for good measure, her hands braced around your back and legs finding a foothold around your hips. “How’s that so far?”

Rosé’s fucking arch. Her pussy grips around you like a fist - hot and tight. She looks up and then at you, softer, prettier, and you’re beginning to wonder if it was ever worth getting stranded with her for a week and not ending up like this. It’s in the sound, the feeling; fucking her in this fashion: sliding yourself in and out of her so nicely. Clinging. Dragging. Every night after the first has always been like this. And the things she says:

“Bet that feels good, right?” Pulling you from the back of your head, leaning down. “Just keep- keep, fuck, baby, like that. Holy shit, I fucking can’t-”

Here she goes again: the praising. She’s scratching your scalp, patting your back. Nails down your spine. The tempo has her gasping in a sweet tone. “Have you like this and fuck, goddamit,” you sigh, and she looks at you like she knows what the fuck you’re talking about.

You snap into her hips a little harder the next stroke. Pounding deep in her cunt was the eventual endgame. Her stomach dips with her next breath. Sucks her lips in.

Oh, and that whimper; that bubbling whimper mixed into a wail of some sort. She’s looking at you; deep into your eyes where she wishes to see that part of that universe she knows she should’ve never left in the first place. Her smile is lazy. She’s got that fucked-out gaze written all over her.

“Too much?” you say, diving into the curve of her jaw to where she moans at the contact.

“Never,” she mumbles, cock drunk at the continuous pressing you’re doing inside of her.

“Good,” you rasp.

“Baby, baby, baby,” Rosé purrs, nails clawing away the skin and sweat off your back, clutching, “Please keep fucking me.”

You bite a patch of skin away from the underside of her chin. You would rather be on the back foot here - dialing it down, but she won’t utter a complaint; she wants to feel this, how hard you can be with her. She’s taken you plenty of times before, getting her so wet at the thought of fucking her raw and dumping your load until it’s dripping down her inner thigh, watch her gasp and beg for the taste when you pull yourself out and she’s almost at the edge too.

“Not leaving you until I’ve had enough,” you’re panting, carving your dick down to the base, thumbing her clit, a twisted evil smile painted across your lips when she’s wailing out of her mind - the mere image and sound of it is obscene.

The pace is unrelenting, it wasn’t long until she’s cumming over your cock again, and again, and again - cutting off all the tension that’s building up in her spine as you’re holding the shivers spread across her body, unable to fight back but let you take her pussy so fucking well that the noises are bouncing off the walls, mix the heat into the open air, slide yourself out and slap the head of your cock on her swollen folds before letting her walls clench around your shaft. She might be fucked out, but you know that she still wants it.

“Please-’ she’s pleading, and you know. You can tell from her face and body alone that she’s not done yet.

You’re leaning down on top of her again, hooking your arms underneath her shoulders that makes the upper profile of her back fold at a ridiculous curve, and fuck her down that you’re hitting all the right places-

Her chest is heaving, nothing more than just sputtering pants - something that Rosé doesn’t register in her head right away; the air gets trapped at the bottom of her throat, swallowing, her eyes crinkle as there’s no sound coming out.

You land your lips on hers to ease her mind. “In your nose, Rosie. Like so. There we go. Leave your pussy to me. You’re so good, you’re so so good.”

Rosé’s head knocks into yours; a fierce wail pierces your ears. You can feel the clench a little tighter when you bottom yourself out; her stomach is moving in a concerning motion. Her gaze on you is almost a mix of shock, tears welling up in her eyes.

You’re kissing her again, swallowing her cry. “Shhhh.” you comfort her. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” you hush, wrapping your arm to her lower back so she can stay close. “You can cum again baby, I won’t hold you back.”

Her head goes sideways, the first domino to fall. You can see her mouth shape into something coherent - probably a dragged-out wheeze, okay, fuck, just, yes.

“More, please, give me more,” she says. “Your cock, its- fuck, baby- I-”

“I know sweetheart,” you croon, impaling your cock deep in her cunt. “I’m working with you here. You’ll let me use your pretty little pussy whatever way you like, huh?”

It’ll be seconds before Rosé cums again, the wear and tear your minds and bodies are having are reaching its peak. The other times of fucking were just a competition of who can get off the other first. This time it was different; now it was getting someone over the edge first over the other - no telling how far this has gone on the scales of fucked up.

She mouths a ‘yeah’, and the situation has never been more clear. You have to fuck her. You can’t help yourself. The nodding is only prompting you to keep going, her voice completely shattered. “Just- use me.”

Right in the clamp of her melting cunt. In the tightening of her legs.

“Fucking-” she’s sobbing at this point; you’ve got yourself in the prime position to where your cockhead hits the deepest spot of her cunt. “s-so good. That’s so fucking good, you’re pounding me so well-”

She shrieks when you’ve pushed her past that brink. You’re entirely certain that it was your doing.

This was the swan song you’ve sought out to hear. A hymn played in a time of reflection - collecting your thoughts and offering them to Rosé, hoping that she can accept your blessings and absolve you of your crimes, ordaining yourself to all good actions from this point moving forward. You’ll take this liturgy for as long as you’d like; worshiping her body and listening to all the psalms that are coming out of her mouth, holding her close as she rides out the lasting remnants of her orgasm - your name as a saint’s prayer and one that she’ll keep on speaking in tongues with over and over and over until she believes it to be true. You confess, through these harsh thrusts into her cunt with your cock, choking on the vice with a vicious finesse at the angle.

(You’d wish you stayed at the cathedral a little longer than you did that day; confessing your sins was always going to be easier than pouring a heart out for someone who ripped it right out of you.)

“Amazing,” you praise, and Rosé does this mix of a smile and a wince when you’re wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Her hands guide yours down to the crease of her hips, enabling you to rock her cunt down like the lovely woman that she is.

Her voice is rattled, helpless. Like she’s been chopped up, the cracks clear as day where the faults formed. “Want- want it- I want your cum, so fucking bad, please-”

You grin when she grins, finally reaping the reward when you tug yourself up and splatter your cum all over her body. Her chest does this circular motion, arms digging deep into the mattress beneath her, wanting her skin to be soaked so well with your release. She can’t stop moaning. She doesn’t want to stop moaning.

“Finally,” she sighs, whimpering, mouth twisting to a satisfied smile at the corners. “God, it’s so fucking much.”

Her hand picks up the mess spread across her waist, wraps it around your cock in no time flat. The laugh she lets out when you groan is just sinister.

Two can play that game.

She freezes when you slide your cum-soaked cock back into her dripping cunt; listen closely at the mere gush as you slide in once more.

“Babe-”

You push.

“Think I can give more, just for good measure,” reassuring, and you hold her down so hard that the next load you give is caught deep inside her cunt.

Pushing it all back in, where it stays.

Her eyes pinch - and there’s no voice to be heard. All that’s shown is her slacked jaw, the air in her lungs passing through, soon filled with the shape of your lips pressed against hers.

"It's so- it's so fucking warm inside me, baby-"

"Yeah?"

Rosé sniffles again as her body tries to shudder out the cum leaking from her slit. You don't let it happen though.

You keep breathing her in; she brackets your hips with what little strength she has left. It doesn’t take much, and you know.

Because Rosé’s got you right where she wants, to the point where your bodies are so well molded into one where each heartbeat and thought are the same, feeling the suction of her pussy wrapped around your cock like it’s the missing piece. Half of ones together make a whole. Your cock fits so well. Above the soreness and debauchery. Once the mess is finally made. Where you’ll want to keep your cock warm and settled until you or her have finally had enough. She’s speaking nonsense still; and you just- keep- fucking going. Fucking into her cunt like it's the only thing you know how to do. Even when the throbbing subsides.

Until you decide to fully embrace her.

The heat’s still present where it stays; you don’t even make a move to clean yourself up - it’s too early for that. Instead, the sheets are pulled over you and her, take her fingers in your hands, and hold them right as they are.

You look at the clock on the nightstand; a little before midnight. “We’re showering together, right?” Rosé pouts her lips, burrowing her head into the space of your collarbone, hand held up and over scratching your hair.

“Yeah,” she says, nestling her head further up against your chest. “A few minutes here, please. With me. Stay with me.” The disarm is already in effect, and you wonder if you’re at the right place and at the right time; where your heart should be, it’s a brief period of pensiveness.

–

You blacked out. When your vision comes to, there’s nothing much for your eyes to see except the endless void of darkness that stretches over the room until the glow from the streetlights below breaks through the window. Each blink you do makes you wonder how much time has passed - along with the countless questions of what’s to come next. The thrum of your heart pounds heavy against your ears, but you’re breathing, and alive. You also notice that the space on your right side is a lot lighter compared to earlier, the quick rush of anxiety plaguing your mind.

That all changes when you look out the window again, specks of white floating down gracefully.

It’s snowing again.

“Oh, you’re up,” Rosé’s voice instantly reels you, towel wrapped around her neck and in some comfortable clothes. “I was just about to wake you.” She crawls back on the bed to your side and kisses your cheek. The moment alone holding your heart in limbo. “Sorry, I thought I’d get ahead and use the shower first. You looked so peaceful sleeping.”

Only she would be the one to blame for that.

“Why are you dressed up?” You ask, fixing your posture and leaning into Rosé’s face for another quick kiss. She draws away playfully, wagging her head a ‘no’ that makes you lean back as a result. “We would’ve saved water if we went together.”

“It’s fine,” Rosé tuts, ruffling your hair. “Go shower and get dressed. I wanna go for a walk.”

“Really? Why? Right now? It’s late.”

“But it’s also Christmas,” Rosé adds, walking away while you’re finally sitting on the edge of the bed. “We won’t be out for long. And besides, what’s wrong with a little more cardio?”

You give her a smirk at the end in agreement. Her feet are cemented in place until you reach forward with an arm, pulling her in. Once reeled she tilts her head in surrendering because she knows that you'd be clingy without explicitly saying it.

She's back on your lap. She's yours. She can be yours again. A wish that you want to make true.

"Gonna let me go?" Rosé asks, giggling, and you kiss her.

"Maybe," you answer, leaning up for another peck since it's not hurting anybody. "Just wanted to tell you Merry Christmas."

–

When the snowflakes hit your skin, part of you on the inside is jumping for joy. It’s even better as your ears are filled with Rosé’s contagious laughter, running up the sidewalk and picking up clumps of snow in her hand.

You make sure to be right behind her, for as much as you can.

–

“This whole thing has been a blast,” she says, slowing her pace when you and she are on the edge of a bridge. In the late hours in the city, where anyone could get away with anything, it’s just you and her - five feet apart from each other, walking along, wandering wherever your feet go. “An absolute dream come true for me. For us.”

The snow starts to land on your head along with your shoulders.

“Part of me makes me wonder,” Rosé continues, hands wrapped around her long scarf, keeping her neck warm, nodding her head side to side when her eyes eventually land on the sea of locks put on the fencing of the bridge. She knows exactly where she is. You know exactly where she took you. “Would any of this be different if we didn’t go our separate ways?”

“It’s a pretty good thought,” you tell her. Your exhale shows your warm breath dissipating into the cold air, causing you to bunch up your shoulders to your ears to make the heat stay. “Makes me wonder if you’d put it in your old diary back in middle school.”

“Hey. Fuck you.”

You shrug your shoulders with a smirk and walk closer to her. “I know you. You would.”

Her feet stop at a random padlock just underneath the railing. She slides it into her palm, examining it. It’s not anybody she knows in particular - just the fact that what stood out to her was the neat handwriting of the initials drawn up in a Sharpie. You feel her gaze on you when you approach her side, taking a closer look at what’s in her hand, slotting your palm underneath.

She keeps staring at the lock, leaning your face into your chest. You bury your nose in her hair, thoughts trailing to someplace where you don’t want to think about anything else.

You point at another fancy lock decorated with gems. She points out an old-fashioned one next to you.

‘Hey,” she says once more, looking up. The lift in your eyebrows serves as the appropriate response. Silence starts to grow between you two, the gust of wind blowing through your bodies.

Rosé tries to read into your expression: stoic and mysterious. She knows that you’re not one to vocalize your thoughts out loud - instead, you stay quiet and listen obediently, waiting for your turn to speak when it’s the right time. A soft smirk spreads across her lips, knowing exactly what’s going on in that brain or yours.

You wrap your arms around her and rest your chin on top of her forehead. “I think you have a general idea of what I’m thinking about right now.”

She’s laughing into your chest, unable to look up. You look down to see what was taking her so long, only to realize that she’s hiding her tears away from the world.

Somehow, like before, you know exactly how to comfort her when the emotions are starting to boil within her. “Rosie.” You’re saying her name softly, clutching her tighter now, the grasp of your fingers reaching to where you wish for them to stay.

“I just wished that maybe-” and her voice breaks. Composure is starting to weigh down on your shoulders; heart rate rising in uncertainty. “Maybe if weren’t such idiots back then, we-” and the sentence doesn’t even get finished there. She’s trying so hard to put her thoughts into words, “like maybe in another life we weren’t like- well, this.”

Her face is back in your hands, the tears building and spilling all at once. You give her a look of sorrowfulness - hopelessly, desperately, longing to make her realization a reality.

“Memories, Rosé,” you’re telling her, “they’re all just memories. We don’t need the memories. Depreciating yourself isn’t gonna make anything better because we both grew.”

The tears well up in your eyes, too. You may be broken, but she’s also the same.

"I hope you can forgive me for a lot of things; for cutting you off and leaving you in the dark," she tells you, jaw twitching - unable to make eye contact, linking her fingers with yours, "but if there's one thing you choose to never forgive me on, my dear, is the fact that I wasted all your precious years."

(I know, you’re saying to her, in tandem with a verse that you’ll recite as penance once you and her part ways. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care about any of that. I just want the both of us to be there for each other, no matter what happens in between.)

–

As of now, you’re mentally checked out from all the logistics once everything’s been checked in at the airport, waiting to board. Rosé’s dozed off on your arm. She thought that it was a good idea to get less than the usual six hours of sleep and her current state serves to be the consequence. The scarf draped around her shoulders was yours, adamant in wanting to save another keepsake from you; she claims that it looked better on her. (Which is a bit of an insult, you think. Though it’ll do the job of covering up the bruises along her neck just fine.)

But, things are played out differently in the final act of the return trip.

You hear her flight announce the boarding phase and tap her shoulder to wake her up. She shoots up instantly, blinking. Everything else falls into place: gathering her belongings, rolling up her luggage to where she can grab and go, fixing up her appearance with that one pair of sunglasses that she likes so much, but doesn’t wear just yet. You walk with her to the main walkway of the gates, getting all of the last looks you’ll possibly have in these last few moments.

The familiarity with distance affects the healthy human mind to think of it as some sort of curse rather than a luxury - depending on the situation, you’ll take it with a grain of salt.

Her arms are folded with her handbag and jacket, staring at you so eagerly. “So, you just gonna stay quiet this whole time or-”

You scoff, because it’s the truth - and so like you. “Uh- well, I was just wondering,” you say, scratching your head shamelessly. “Are you sure you want go forward with this?”

Rosé bobs her head for yes. The decision’s already been made; no point in changing it. “Unless you want to create a shit storm with our friends when we get back, then by all means go for it.”

“Right.” you deadpan. “Just for accountability.”

“If things do go south, you know where my flight’s headed. And given the present situation that you’re in, I’m in no position to make that choice for you,” she says, looking over to the tv board to see where her boarding gate was at. “Guess this is it, " she declares, sighing, "any last things or words you want to do or say?”

You say something. And you do something. You pull her in for a hug, get the last whiffs of her coconut scented shampoo in her hair; she kisses you. You kiss her forehead as her eyes flutter shut; you hold her a bit too long for your liking, but tells you that she doesn’t mind. Don’t be far away, okay? At least let me catch up for once.

She tells you: never. It’s a running inside joke. The classic game of cat and mouse, an old fabled goose chase; you’ll keep going after her even when you don’t expect it to happen. She’ll lure you back in so easily that all it doesn’t sound terrible as it seems.

–

When you do settle on the plane, you have your moment of getting the window seat. Your eyes are getting familiar with the arraignment, how cramped the leg room is, the assortment of movies you know that you’ll sleep through. There’s a lot of things circilng around your head; either one at a time or all at once. This fever dream is coming to and end, and you’re left torn to not tell the tale.

You check your phone and turn off do not disturb, taking in all the notifications that you missed the past few days. The work messages, fill-ins with coworkers and friends; then there’s Jennie’s messages.

“I’m so fucked.” You manage, muttering under your breath. Tongue tip to your teeth to mentally prepare youself for what’s to come.

–

(You keep thinking about that night on the bridge, holding Rosé in your arms - in midst of the cold weather hitting you. She tells you that this getaway was everything to her, and it’s the simplicity in the delivery that makes you want to share those snap-shot moments with her even more. Nothing else mattered to you: managing to fall in love with her all over again.

We can try, you’re saying, we can always try again, and she smiles through the tears. You and me. Together. Properly.

“I’ve always loved the idea of starting over. It’s exciting. All of these things. All of these moments we spent together, it just felt right,” and her gaze goes crestfallen. “Never really thought that I’d come back to you, and I couldn’t be more proud.”

And once you’re way up in the sky, it does feel like some sort of whirlpool back into the reality of life, the final fade to black shot - you look out the window and ponder: a choice can be made still. All of the stars have to align at just the right time for it to happen. It can happen. You could alter the course of the story if you just made the right calls. Maybe you will.

Your gaze falls down to the ocean below - and maybe it’s a long shot, winding into a pipe dream.

You’ll never realize what you can do unless you take the chance.)

#blackpink smut #blackpink rosé #blackpink rosé smut #rosé smut #kpop smut #park chaeyoung #male reader #kpop fanfic #idol x male reader #kpop x male reader

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hischierslovergirl · 3 days ago

Note

G'mornin'! I just saw your post and I want to say it's always warming seeing someone getting back into writing!! And so please can I request:

Luke Hughes with "the first initial kiss being a peck, then they immediately go back in for a stronger, more passionate one" + "I'll give you a ride, don't worry."

Have a lovely day and take your time, no rush <33

Thank you so much for requesting and for your encouragement xx. This turned a bit longer than I anticipated, but I hope you enjoy!

Just when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse, your car decided to show you just how bad it could get. You’d already had a long and crappy shift of dealing with handsy old men, your manager and coworkers were seemingly fighting to see who could piss you off the most, you had spilled a red colored drink on your white top, and now you had to deal with whatever problem your car has now. Needless to say, you were over it.

Members of the club you worked at passed you by without even a simple glance in your direction as you stood there with frustrated tears welling in your eyes, phone to your ear as you tried to get a hold of anyone. Your hopes of someone coming to your rescue dwindled with each unanswered call until you had officially given up. You sank to the ground, knees pulled to your chest and back pressed against your car as you let out a sigh of defeat.

“Hey,” You heard a familiar voice call out.

You slowly lifted your head up from its spot between your knees and your gaze landed on Luke, one of the guys you grew friendly with during his many trips to the golf course. Though, truthfully, you had always been a bit more than friendly with him on occasion, always throwing subtle flirty remarks his way that he would bashfully return. He was a little on the shyer side than most of the guys you encountered at work, but you liked it. You liked him.

“Hi, Luke,” You weakly smiled at him, hoping the sun had set enough that he couldn’t make out the small streaks of mascara underneath your eyes.

“Is everything okay,” He carefully asks, taking a few steps closer to you with his hands shoved into his pockets, “I thought your shift was over a few hours ago?”

You decide to ignore the fact that he remembered you always got off at three on Tuesdays, but it still made your chest warm.

“It was,” You confirm, your eyes flickering to his usual group of rambunctious friends a few feet away from him before finding Luke again, “My car isn’t starting, and I can’t seem to find anyone to come pick me up, so I’m stuck here until my parents get back from the city in a few hours.”

“A few hours,” Luke lets out in disbelief before he shakes his head, his curls bouncing around in disarray, “Absolutely not. I can take you home. You’re not waiting out here for hours.”

“Luke, no,” You stressed, finally rising to your feet so you’re closer to eye level with him, though he still has quite a few inches on you, “I can handle waiting a bit longer. It’s okay. Plus, it’s way out of your way.”

A fact you knew courtesy of the time Jack had invited you to a party they had sometime last summer. A party that you left early because of the multitude of girls hoarding the one person you had gone there for.

“Doesn’t matter,” He stubbornly stands his ground, hesitantly taking a step towards you, “I’ll give you a ride, okay? Don’t worry. Making sure you get home safe will never be out of my way.”

Luke didn’t take no for an answer, and that was exactly how you ended up in seat of his expensive car with his music softly playing in the background. You had never been alone with Luke before, let alone in such a confined space, and it made you nervous. Any of the usual teasing and flirtatious remarks you would throw his way were left in the parking lot of the country club, only awkward casual conversation falling from your mouth now.

Luke kept stumbling over his words, occasionally veering off into a rant of sorts whenever certain things were brought up, and it made a smile twitch at your lips. After a few minutes he would realize that he had been talking far too long, though you didn’t mind, and he would mumble a bashful apology before directing the conversation into something different. By the time you were nearing your house, a bout of silence had fallen over the two of you and you watched everything flashed by.

“This is the one,” You pointed to the house on the right side of the street, “You can just drop me off at the end. I can walk the rest of the way.”

Luke brought his car to a stop right in front of your house, quickly throwing it into gear and grabbing the key before he was darting out of his seat. You watched him with furrowed brows and curious eyes as he jogged to the passenger door before carefully tugging it open. He was sporting a shy, timid smile, his hand grasping at the frame of the car as he patiently waited for you.

“Thank you,” You sheepishly mumble, hugging your bag to your side as you slip out of the seat.

“Of course,” He clears his throat, awkwardly shifting on his feet, “I’ll walk you to your door.”

Luke walked close enough to you that his hand kept brushing your arm, making warmth spread up your neck and to your cheeks as you kept your gaze on the ground in front of you. Once you were standing in front of the door, you finally turned to face Luke and you couldn’t help but admire the way he looked under the warm porch light. His features were soft and delicate, his curls framed his face in a way that made your mind run rampant with the idea of running your hands through them.

“Thank you, again,” You swallow thickly, “For taking me home. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” He nods, and you swear his eyes drift down to your lips, “It’s the least I can do after all the gatorade’s you supply for me and the boys.”

His joke brings a quiet giggle out of you as you playfully shake your head, “I definitely make sure to keep my cart stocked when I know you guys are coming. Though I can never seem to have enough for Jack.”

“Yeah, he throws them back like they’re going to disappear,” He chuckles, his lips tugging upwards into a smile.

“I believe that,” You airily chuckle, your gaze quickly darting to his mouth before looking away, “Well, I’m sure you probably have better things to do tonight, but I really do appreciate you.”

You hastily stand on your toes to place a small and delicate kiss on his cheek, your eyes fluttering closed for a fleeting moment until you were flat on your feet again. When you meet Luke’s eyes again, there was a certain glint to his eyes that made you nervous, but he gave you no time to dwell on it before he was surging forward and slamming his lips on your own. Your reaction was instantaneous, your bag falling from your shoulder as you wrap your arms around his neck and you kiss him back with everything you had in you.

Luke’s hands found purchase on your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin as he brings you further into his chest. His mouth is moving against yours, unyielding and fueled by months of suppressed feelings as you lose yourself in the moment. It felt like the two of you were connected for hours when you regrettably pull away from him to catch your breath, his hands sliding to the small of your back to keep you close to him.

“I’m sorry,” He eventually breathes out, his chest heaving against you, “I just— Um, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time and I—”

“Luke,” You tenderly cut him off, peering up at him through your eyelashes, “I’ve been thinking about that for a long time, honestly. Actually, I was wondering if we could do it again sometime?”

#youvegotmail!📥#from: star2fishmeg #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes imagine #viwrites ⌨️

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hyukascampfire · 1 day ago

Text

𝓖INGER & 𝓢NAP ` ꕀ. k.th

you were the last person taehyun expected to appear on his doorstep. sweet and fluffy and oh-so-proper; he never thought he’d see you again. but... there you stand. and, much to his own chagrin, he fears that nobody else could get him more bothered. ׄ ⋆ ִ

་༘ ՚՚ ꒰ 🪵 ꒱ ･ 7.9k

ρairings gingerbread!taehyun x frosty puff!reader

𝒢 ‧̥ smut, fantasy, strawberry shortcake au

⍵arnings brat taming, brat tamer!taehyun & brat!reader, his cum is frosting, creampie, ofc no sex ed in strawberryland, thigh riding, oral m!receiving, cumming into mouth, cum eating, corruption of innocence & innocent!reader, banter, chubby!reader and buff!taehyun, manhandling, he throws her around a bit and she's so into it, they don't like each other but also def do, he likes to teach her manners, reader is also spoiled & rich and taehyun is not, hair pulling, he gets mean, no protectiom, let me know if i missed some!

✎୭ ashlynn's note this collab has been seriously so fun. writing fics is fun, but there's something about talking your friends and scheming all the yummy ways you can incorporate certain things into your fic. @thetxtdevil mae baby, thank you so much for being the best and even coming up with this idea. your mind amazes me... like actually. everybody did so unbelievably good, and i'm blessed to have been a part of it. now... let's get foody and smutty lol. some of this was written in a benadryl haze, but that's the fun part. i'm sorry mine came out a lil later than everybody else's, but hopefully it's still fun!

... back to the masterlist ⌇ back to strawberryland

Raising your fist to the door, your knuckles rap against it with a few thick knocks. The door is frosted around the edges in little swirling white puffs of icing, framing the gingerbread door. It’s the same all around his house: gumdrops and candy canes and the like, all twinkling with sugar crystals.

It’s all so sweet—unbelievably so. The man that calls it home is the very antithesis of sweet. He does not take after the gumdrop, nor the sweetness of the icing, and most definitely not the brown sugar and molasses of the gingerbread. Taehyun is the quick snapping of a leg, or the sharpness on your tongue when you get to the cinnamon and nutmeg.

You loathe it. Even being stood here, knocking at his door, you hate. He is everything uncouth and abrasive—he is everything you should not entertain.

Here you are, entertaining it. The door swings open. Your fingers and toes have begun to slow with the cold, like frosty-whip in the fridge. Through the forest, stepping over sugar bushes and cocoa streams, you had fought the bite. Why did he have to live all the way out here? Secluded, as though the rest of Strawberryland were beneath his meddling. You know why: it’s that he believes it. He is exactly as your parents told you he’d be, all those years ago. Of course, they were right. They always are.

When he catches sight of you at his door, his distant eyes morph, and his lip tugs into a scowl. The rise of his brows ruffles your feathers with an infuriating ease. “Is there something you want?” he asks. His tone is infuriating, too. It’s the kind of question that means much more beyond the words said. You catch exactly what he means—how he intends to get under your skin.

Hidden behind the door, he has one hand on the handle. It's an unspoken thing, too. He wants you to remember that he could close it. You can’t let him, or else you’ll have drug your pretty new furry winter boots through the powdered snow for him to slam a door in your face. “Yeah, actually. There is.” You run preening fingers through the ends of your hair. “We’re partners for the bake-off.”

“I don’t do the bake-off,” he says. His eyes would be chocolate and smooth if it weren’t for the way he wields them sharp. “Sorry. You’re gonna have to find somebody more your speed for that.”

Barking an incredulous, perhaps even snobby, laugh, you look around. Snow comes down on the ground, sweet and creamy. It’d been enough of a battle to come here. If you were going to give up so easily, you would’ve turned your little bottom around perhaps two hours ago. Does he think you hadn’t considered that? It was a long walk; you had plenty of time to mull over the many things he might do. Sometimes, you imagined him diplomatic and affable. You stomped those wispy thoughts out. Perhaps it’s been years since you’ve spoken with him, and perhaps what happened between the two of you is dusted over, but you know better. Here he stands in front of you: bitter as ever.

“You’re just gonna leave me without a partner?” you say. Your jaw trembles, seized finally by the cold. “Everybody is already paired up. Literally everybody.”

Shrugging, he says, “I don’t see how that’s my problem. I didn’t sign up for it.”

Your brows knit. That means somebody else had signed him up. You have a sneaking suspicion who might’ve—Blueberry Kai always tells you that he just feels excluded. It’s hard not to laugh when he does. Taehyun? Excluded? He is exactly where he wants to be. Where most are sweet in Strawberryland, the snappy gingerbread finds it easier to justify his bitterness when he lives off in his little gingerbread home, out and away in his own neck of the forest only to be found by a winding gumdrop road, where he can pretend he’s above it all.

It’s entirely ironic. Him, better than you? Gingerbread, and all his ruggedness? His unpolished edges? Once, you’d believed that the two of you weren’t so different. That you could be friends, even. Seeing what he’s grown to be, you think you understand why your parents stepped in. Back then, though, as just that soft little girl who followed the charismatic boy around with crystal stars in your eyes, it had been the worst thing to ever happen to you. He had been so gravity-defying, moving through the soft, marshmallow edges and the sugar-whipped reality of Strawberryland as something different.

No. Not gravity-defying. Rather, in the powdery and sweet sweet Strawberryland, you think that he is the only thing with gravity.

“That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” he echoes, letting a little patronizing laugh out along with it. “That’s sweet.”

It’s hard not to shift or cross your arms over your chest, abraded by the dripping sneer.

“What? It’s not. It’s not fair that, just because you don’t want to at least give it a try, I can’t participate,” you say. Really, you should just crawl back home and beg to join somebody’s duo, but you can’t lose like that. You can’t lose to him. If you leave it like this, then he’ll have gotten the better of you.

“Can’t get everything we want, huh?” he says, straightening up and taking the door in his hand once more. “Just because everybody else has bent backward to give you what you want doesn’t mean that I will.”

“Wait,” you say, sighing in a white swirl. “Don’t close the door. Don’t you know your manners? It’s rude. You’re just going to let me freeze out here? I walked all the way out here, and even got snow all over my new boots, just for this, just for you to slam a door in my face? I mean, a gentleman would at least invite me in to warm me up.”

Lips twitching into a laugh and his eyes suddenly alight, he says, “A gentleman, huh?” He pulls the door open a little further. The warmth from his home, warm and spiced and oh-so-inviting like oven-warmed gingerbread, brushes over your twinkling skin. “Sure. Show me your manners, then. I want you to ask me nicely.”

Your jaw tightens. Sending him a once over, sharpening your eyes, you decide to just do it. His tone is nasty, but you don’t want to be disqualified for not having a partner. Even if he’s the worst you could’ve been paired with in all of Strawberryland. Or maybe the best, because it’s a gingerbread house competition this year. “Will you just do it?”

“I said ask nicely. Say please.”

He wears a mean smile—he’s having fun watching you squirm. So, you make a conscious effort to straighten up. “Will you please be my partner for the competition?” you say, making your voice sugary and batting your eyelashes in an overdone way. He thinks he’s funny.

Stepping out of the doorway, he motions you inside. It might look gentlemanly if it weren't for the sting in his eyes. You swallow down petty words and push through, your arms full with supplies. Arms aching, you finally let them clatter down over the countertop. The inside of his home is fresh-baked and spiced, aromatic like a true gingerbread cookie straight from the oven. You’re sure the glowing fire helps carry the smell in warm air. It wraps your cold bones up and smooths over some of the frayed edges. You’d been out there for so long… Nobody else had to walk that far for their partner.

Better just to get this done as quickly as you can. You just have to put up with him today, and you’ll be done, and then you can have fun with the competition. He won’t even show up for it; you’re sure.

“I’ll do it all if it’s that big of a deal,” you tell him, laying out the walls and warming the icing between your palms. “You can put the peppermint on, I guess. So then we can say we both worked on it.”

Hair the fluffy brown of true gingerbread and dusted with snowflakes like powdered sugar. Taehyun shakes his head, and it moves with him. “No,” he says, the corners of his lips still turned up as though he knows something you don’t. He rolls the sleeves of his gaudy, knitted Christmas sweater up to his elbows. The corded muscle there, flickering with movement, catches you off guard. Gingerbread, built like that? Tearing your eyes off him with the effort of metal tearing itself from a magnet, you watch him approach the kitchen counters. “I’ll help. We’re partners, right?”

No matter what he says, there’s a twist of something sparkling in those sharp eyes that has you watching him closer—has you trying to gauge exactly what he’s playing at. “Uh… Yeah. Sure. If you want to, I guess.” You gesture at the walls. “Two for us, and ten for display. Can you start the walls?”

“Ten?” he says. “We’re making twelve gingerbread houses?”

With your lips pulled taut, you say, “Yeah… Twelve. Is that too much? I didn’t think any amount of gingerbread houses would be too much for you. That’s a little ironic.” Everything is warm in his home—even when you look down at your own hands to tug off your white woolen gloves, your skin that usually sparkles like frost rests just beneath the surface is tinged with the warmth.

“I can handle it just fine,” he says, taking the wall and base sections of one. “Just wouldn’t want you to ruin your pretty outfit. Twelve is a lot of icing.” He spits the word pretty out like it tastes bad. On his tongue, you’re sure it does. He never cared for pretty things the way you do. Your mommy always said that he was just jealous, but when the both of you were little, before your parents’ meddling, you learned that it was just a different lifestyle. One that you don’t understand, perhaps. Who doesn’t enjoy dressing themselves in lush furs and sugar crystals over their necks?

“I’ll be fine,” you say, snipping the tip of the piping bag open. “I wore these knowing they’d get dirty. They’re my baking clothes. My boots already got all messed up…”

“Oh,” he says. “You put on cashmere knowing you’ll get it dirty. Mommy and daddy paid a pretty penny for that, huh? And it’s your throwaway outfit?”

“Look. If you like it so much, I’ll let you have it when we’re done, yeah? Maybe you’ll make a pretty penny off selling it.” You ice a warm white line down the length of a wall. “Can you hurry? I’m already icing. I don’t want to be here all day.”

There’s a few long, thrumming moments of quiet, where only the sound of your piping back crackling fills his home. Finishing a wall, you tear yourself away from your work to spare a glance his way.

Taehyun’s jaw is tight, a muscle flickering where he grits his jaw in the low light that washes over him. There’s a fire blazing in his eyes, and though he doesn’t turn them on you, the smoke rolling from them is enough to make your skin warm. You’d successfully gotten under his skin. Why stop here, when seeing that look on his face is so fun? He looks as sour as an apple; as spiced as cinnamon. “Wall?” you say, sharp and haughty as you offer your hand out to him in an impatient demand.

Snapping his head up, he hands you a wall with the heat of a thousand ovens in his face. You feel the scald he intends for you with it, and you revel in it.

You bark commands at him, watching his shoulders grow tense and his lips twitch with each. Crush the candy canes, you tell him. Melt the icing. Sprinkle these over that. Soon enough, you’re sitting back and watching him work more than anything.

He doesn’t say a word. You see them brimming in his eyes, but he doesn’t let them burst out all venomous like you know he wants to. It’s quite the show.

“Would you at least help me hold this up?” he says, holding the walls of a house together with one hand. His hands are a mess of runny sugar and powdered sugar for snow, and yours are perfectly clean. You can at least help a little bit if you want to claim any part in the competition.

You reach for the piping bag, fat with the sweet sweet icing, and straighten a wall up. You trace the seams with it, thick and like glue. With a bit too much pressure, the side of the bag bursts. White rivulets of slow icing run down your fingers and over the table. You curse, dropping it to the counter. That’s all of your icing, flopped down and deflating over the surface all sad-like. It’d been so much, that you thought it would last you each house and then some. Of course, you hadn’t brought extra.

Bringing your sticky fingers up to your mouth, you suckle the mess off. It’s so very sweet—warm and weeping, nutty and spiced with something like nutmeg. It’s Taehyun: the smell of it, the way it spreads over your tongue… You stick your tongue out to catch it where some drips down your forearm. “Mmm,” you say, sticky-armed. “Tastes good.” That’ll be good on the gingerbread houses; maybe the two of you do have a chance at winning.

When you look up to Taehyun, he stands frozen in place, his hands still holding up a half-constructed gingerbread house. His eyes are different. It’s a look you don’t recognize—a look you’ve never seen before. Rather than deep and warm, his eyes are blackish and heavy. A swallow goes down his throat; a tense, barely contained thing.

You frown, your lips still a sugary mess. “I didn’t mean to make a mess. Sorry. I’ll clean it up…”

Clearing his throat, Taehyun says, “Yeah…”

He watches you clean the counters, where the icing had pooled, and now the bag is empty, with the same intensity. You can feel it on your skin in a foreign, itching way. You swipe and scoop and work at the spill, and still, he watches. He does not speak.

You survey the houses you’ve managed to finish. They’re pretty, and absolutely competition ready: looping swirls of icing like shingles on the roofs, peppermint chunks all red and white catching light where you’d sprinkled them into the frosting, gumdrops lining the paths true to Taehyun’s own home, and powdered sugar sifted over the entirety of it like snowfall. It’s all great, but there are only four. “What are we supposed to do now?” you say, lips pouty. “That’s all the icing I brought. We literally can’t make any more.” You wipe at a smear on your cheek. How’d that get there? “I think I’m gonna have to come back tomorrow… Can you hold on to the houses for me?”

“Yeah—yeah, sure. Tomorrow,” he says, blinking something away. He straightens. “It’s a long walk. I think you should get going.”

You want to say something snarky or ask him why he wants you out of the house so fast, but it’s true. Night’s creeping over Strawberryland, and you have no icing, and tomorrow’s the last day before the bake-off. If the two of you don’t work harder tomorrow than you did today, then you won’t even make qualifications. You’ll lose before even starting.

You never lose. Not like this, and certainly not to the man standing before you.

ꕀ

“C’mon. You can do better than that, can’t you?” Taehyun says, drooping icing from rooftops like icicles as you sprinkle crushed candies over the top.

You grit your teeth. If he’d been snappy yesterday, he’s made it his mission to be your worst nightmare today. You think it’s his sort of revenge for ordering him around how you did. “What would you like, then?” you say. Maybe it’s feeding right into what he wants, but your life has lent you a short fuse. “You don’t even care about winning. Why does it matter? Let me do it how I want.”

He’s in another sweater. The sleeves are bunched up to the elbow just like yesterday, but you think he’s making a point with it this time. The shifting of his muscles is a bit too intense for piping icing. You’d made it through three more houses, wrangling your inner demons with each passing snide remark or nasty smile the whole time. It doesn’t help that he keeps his home terribly toasty, and you run cold down to the core. You melt and melt until all that is left of your temper is a puddle on the floor beneath you. Gone.

“We’re partners, remember?” he says. He doesn’t even look at you as he says it. “I don’t do things half-assed, Frosty.”

You’re sent reeling with the old nickname. It’d been sweet then, back when it was just the two of you against the world, but now it’s gone sour like milk. It even comes from his mouth soured. It’s something that you thought you’d left a million lifetimes ago, never to hear again. With Taehyun, though, it’s hard to pretend that you are no longer that.

He will not let you forget that, at one point, the two of you were friends. An unlikely pair, especially looking at you now. You thought it was all nothing to you, but seeing him has kicked up dust.

“You don’t?” you say, shooting him a quick glare from the side of your eye. “That’s funny.”

Strong brows shooting up, Taehyun quits mid-piping to look at you. “Funny? What’s funny about it to you?”

You can’t settle the obnoxious smile that curls at the edges of your mouth, mean and taunting and falsely sweet. “Oh, nothing.” You shake a sifter full of powder against your palm. It falls like true snow down over the house.

“No, tell me,” he says, his eyes trained and heavy on your dismissive shrug. “Tell me what you think of me. I wanna hear it.”

Oh, this will be good.

“It’s just that,” you say, “you’re not really known for doing things the best way, you know? Living all the way out here, an ass when anybody tries to talk to you… Well, really, it’s just that nobody likes you. But, don’t worry! I’m sure there’s at least somebody that does.”

His face falls, the twinkle of delight at taunting you that he’d been holding in his eyes gone away. All that’s left is the peaking of something deeper and roiling from out of the cracks. You get the funny feeling that maybe you’ve taken it a step too far.

But, you never lose.

“Is that what it is?” he says. “I work for my shit. You? Everything you’ve ever had has been handed to you.” He measures his words delicately. Like a measuring cup full over the top, he cuts the excess words and coarseness off. He doesn’t say all that he thinks, but you see all he leaves unsaid toiling furiously behind his eyes.

His eyes. They’re clear and, sharp as they are, they pin you. It’s a reflection of that look he gave you yesterday: deep and swirling and wild. It’s more than that, this time, though. It’s laced with anger and bursting at the seams of him. You’re not sure he’ll be able to hold back whatever it is that storms just beneath his skin, this time.

“It is,” you say, punctuation your words concisely. “It’s exactly why my parents said I shouldn’t hang out with you. They said that I’m above… all this.”

Oh, you’ve absolutely taken it too far now. You don’t really mean it. Sure, that’s what they told you, but you don’t really believe it. For some time, you did, but not now. It’s too late for sorries, though. Taehyun’s jaw goes tense.

For a long, awful moment, you just stand there and burn in his silence. It’s worse than any words he might spit. It’s hot—hot, hot, hot, and you turn liquid in it.

In a blink, nothing more, you collide against his countertop. Something clatters and thuds behind you. The gingerbread houses? That doesn’t matter right now—all that your dizzy mind can manage is his body crushing you and his fingers biting into the plush of your cheeks.

Where he had fractured, like true gingerbread, he snaps. You can see it in his eyes; even you know when you’ve pushed too far. Perhaps you ought to have seen this coming.

His knuckles curl white around the edge of the counter beside you, and his fingers dig deeper into your face. He’s oh-so-hot up against you. “I’m sick of your fucking mouth,” he snarls. His breath is hot as it fans over your face, too. “Someone needs to put you in your place. Where are your goddamn manners?”

Your heart thrums in your chest, and your pulse goes wild in your neck. You can’t form the words to answer him.

“Quiet now, huh?” he says. The husk in it makes the place between your thighs feel weird. You don’t know what’s wrong with you.

He shut you up real quick. You’ll give him that.

That funny feeling does flips, roaring to life when his fingers hook under the waistband of your bottoms. “That’s your problem.” His eyes send a chill up and down your spine. “You’ve never been told no. You’ve always gotten what you wanted.” Peeling down all the layers, he tugs your knitted stockings and your little fur skirt, and your sweet frosty panties, too. They bunch at your feet. Between your thighs, right where those foreign, throbbing waves reign, cool air laps at a wetness there. The hair all over your body rises. You’ve never felt anything like it. “Not with me. I'll set you straight. I don’t put up with spoiled brats.”

“I’m not a brat,” you say. “You’re just an ass.” They’re the first words that come to you. Damn your temper.

With the same hand he’d been holding your face in place with, he curls his fingers right into your scalp and yanks hard, baring your neck to him. You lose a strained squeak, tears pricking the corners of your eyes at the sting. If your heart had been racing before, it runs wild, now. You strain your eyes to look at him and his curled lips. Painted with a sneer, he says, “Watch your mouth.”

A swallow goes down your throat hard. It’s all unfamiliar: the aching between your thighs, the burning in your blood, and the dazing of your thoughts. “Taehyun, I… I feel weird. It feels weird.”

Something knowing passes over him. “Yeah?” he says. “Show me where. I can help.”

Show him? You hesitate, searching his eyes for an ounce of joke or aversion. You find none, and that pounding is syrupy-sweet, and he says he can help. That’s all you want; all you need. Taking a trembling hand, you bring it down your body, running the palm down the planes of your belly and resting it just over the spot where the lower bit gives way to the apex of your thighs. Going any further—the thought tightens your throat and pinkens your cheeks the color of strawberry frosting. “There. It feels weird there.”

Taehyun smiles a snappy, spiced smile. He likes that. “Want me to make it feel better?”

Your thoughts feel replaced by something powdery and weightless. You give him a dumb nod.

“Say please.”

Something bratty crawls up your throat, but you want help, and he’s the one who will give it to you. He’d meant that: teaching you a lesson. Melted around the edges already, you say, “Please, help make it feel better.” Your voice wavers.

“There we go. That’s how good girls talk. That’s how you ask to get what you want.” He nudges your thighs apart with a knee and slots it between them, pressed right up against that coolness. Right up against that need. “Grind down on it.”

Neck aching at the angle, you say, “Grind?”

He brushes his clothed thigh right up against you. The friction is delicious—sweet and melty and just what you need. It shoots yellow sparks throughout you.

It feels so good. Your mouth waters in anticipation.

“Grind,” he says. It’s harder, this time. Not a sweet suggestion.

You bring yourself back down on it, gasping at the contact, and you do. You grind, tummy tightening at every brush of the fabric hard and delicious. Your chest constricts, one hand flying up to dig your fingers into his shoulder and the other fighting the hand he has still in your hair. It aches and hurts, and so does the friction as you grow more gaspy and frantic.

It feels so, so good. You want more—you want him to touch you there and everywhere else. He smells just right all over you, nutty and musky like a gingerbread twist. “Taeh—hyun,” you mewl. It burns, but something slick eases the burn a little bit. Just enough for you to enjoy that burn.

“That’s it,” he coos. It’s not a sweet coo; it’s the type of sound one might make when you play right into their mean game. It’s mean. “Make yourself a mess on my thigh. I don’t even have to touch you. What would mommy and daddy think of you now, huh? What would they think if they saw their precious princess fucking herself on my thigh?”

No. That would be the end of you. You whine, thighs twitching. Something twists in your center, scary and foreboding, and still you chase it. None of your thoughts are solid enough to stop. Each time he flexes a muscled thigh or presses it harder into you, you shudder and curl your fingers into his shirt harder.

“Don’t like that, huh?” he laughs. “Then you haven’t learned your lesson. You’re no better than me; I mean, look at you.”

You want to cry when he pins your hips back to the counter, stilling your wild bucking. Squeezing your eyes shut, you claw and reach for that wave, even as it recedes from you. “Why?” you say, voice thin. It’d been so yummy—the sweetness still rests on your tongue. Your heart thumps hard, longing for it.

“I said, look at yourself,” he growls, taking his hold on your hair to crank your head down.

Right where you’d been on his thigh, there’s a sticky, marshmallowy mess. Your mess.

Taehyun releasing his grip on your hair is almost a relief, but he doesn’t even give you time to relish it. The walls of his house blur around you. All that you register in between the motions is his shoulder in your belly and your limbs dangling from you. You dig your hands into his back to balance yourself, but he’s got you.

He has you slung over his shoulder. He’s carrying you like you weigh nothing at all. That place between your thighs flutters anew. In all your life, you never worried too much about the plushness of your belly or your thighs. It is who you are; all mallow and soft around the edges and starkly sweet. But you did get nervous when somebody tried picking you up. Usually, you protest and giggle it off. Watching somebody strain to pick you up when they lift other girls like sacks of flour is just something that makes you feel a little strange.

But, Taehyun does not strain. He doesn’t huff; he carries you right down the hallway and into his room, and he even manhandles you down onto the bed with a bounce without so much as a sound. He is a solid pillar beneath you, and then he is a solid, muscled chest above you. With strong fingers, he pins your hands to the mattress above you. With the other, he leads your shirt up.

He’s so warm against your cold skin. His breath like waves from the oven over your mouth, he says, “You think you’re so much better than me because you have all this?” Curling his fingers around a necklace circling your throat, he tears it off with a clattering of a few snow-drop beads.

You gasp, glaring right into his eyes. “What the hell?” you hiss, arching your chest to wiggle beneath him. Your necklace. Who does he think he is, breaking your stuff? That was one of your favorite necklaces, and now it lies all over his floor. Still, your center pounds and longs for the return of his touch. Everything about him just calls for more from you. You don’t know how you went so long without him, or how you made yourself forget just how drawn you are to his magnetism. Maybe he is just what your parents turn their nose up at, and you too, but that does not make him any less a powerful personality.

He knows exactly who he is and what he wants, as solid as the gingerbread cookie. And you, plush and impressionable as whipped marshmallows, take to him just right. It’s something you once knew, but the sneered words of adults obscured that memory.

“Don’t whine,” he says. “I want to see your pretty neck without all that shit. That’s your problem: you’re spoiled.” He reaches down to mess with his pants.

His length springs free. Cheeks flushing, you take it in. You can’t look away, even as embarrassment crawls spindly legs over your skin at the interest you take in the sight. You’ve never seen anything like it—long and hot and weeping something thick and white from the slit at the pinkish tip. A pearl of it dribbles down, landing on your belly in a string where he holds it.

Taehyun collects that wetness and then urges more from the tip with a few drags down the length of it. Wrapping his fingers around it, he begins to slowly work his fist up and down it. It’s nothing short of impossible to tear your sights off it—it’s another thing that inexplicably fans the flames of something roaring in your center. “Do you want to touch it?” he says, watching your tongue dart out to wet your lips.

The sight of him growing restless over his pumping fist is enough to get you nodding.

“Fuck,” he says, sharp and under his breath. He lets his hand off it. “Go ahead. Touch it. I won’t tell anybody you did.”

When he frees your pinned wrists, you reach out a slow hand. You curl your fingers around it the way he had. Your fingers don’t even touch around jt. The weight and warmth of him in your palm makes your blood tingle. Looking up, you search for guidance in those intelligent, swirling eyes. His bangs hang over his eyes as he watches.

Placing his hand over yours, he drags it up and down his rigid length the way he had been doing a few beats ago. “Like that,” he says. “Just like that.”

You pump your closed fist up and down him, encouraged to squeeze harder and flick your wrist faster with each tight breath he lets slip. The skin of your palm gets stickier and stickier, the slick sounds sending your ears and core burning just the same. You like that it makes him feel good—that he’s making those noises just for you.

He twitches under your fingers. “Feels just like I thought your pretty hands would…” he says, stomach tight. “See—what happens when you give up that bratty fucking act? Shit… harder—give it to me harder, Frosty…” Shivering at the name, you oblige him. You reach your thumb up and collect more of that beaded liquid from the slit, and you work your arm harder. Faster. Your forearm begins to burn, but you don’t let it slow you. All you want is more of this; more of him. Finally, he lets sounds out from his chest freely. He grunts and hisses through his teeth, letting his head fall back. “Holy shit. I’m gonna—gonna ice your face, okay?” he says. “You said you liked the taste, huh? Wanna taste it again? Give me your tongue…”

Whatever that means, you push yourself up and situate your face in front of his length, your tongue out. Taehyun’s sounds tighten, and his hips begin to stutter and chase your hand. He picks his head back up to look down at you half-lidded—to watch. With only a few last runs of your palm down his length, skin so slick that your hand just slips and slides up him, he growls through gritted teeth. The weight of him in your working hand twitches once more, and from that weeping tip he shoots dancing ribbons of white. It lands on your tongue hot and sweet, melting out all spiced and snappy.

Snappy like gingerbread. Like gingerbread icing. Swallowing it down, you meet his gaze. He pants, chest rising and falling, but there’s something clear and knowing in his heavy eyes when you do. You think you know now, why he’d been so dazed as you made a show of licking that same sticky icing off your hands and said how good it tasted.

When you release him from your palm, it glistens with his sweet essence. He softens in front of your eyes just the littlest bit.

Eyes just as hungry and still catching his breath, Taehyun says, “Open your mouth. I wanna see your tongue.”

Belly doing wicked twists, you do. You stick your tongue out for him, still laden with the headiness of his taste. He does taste good.

“Swallowed it all down?” he says, eating the sight of you with your mouth dropped open up. “You really are so nasty. They all think you’re so sweet—you think you’ve got them all wrapped around your finger.” He pushes you back down to the bed with a palm. “Well, not me. I know that you’re just as filthy as you are spoiled. Somebody had to deal with you.”

Like always, snarky words swirl in your mouth. All it would take is letting them fall off your tongue. But you don’t—not with the feeling between your thighs, and not with the way your blood, frost turned to snowmelt, begs for him to fix it. Not when you know that all it will get you is more of Taehyun’s wrath.

It’s not like what he says is true, or anything. That’s what you tell yourself anyway.

“Taehyun, please. I need it…” He takes a marshmallow thigh of yours, pressing it up so that it melds with your belly. Cool air reminds you once more of that strange wetness between them.

Dark, blown eyes catching the sight of it, his lips quirk into a scoff. “Need what?” he says, reaching a hand down. At the contact of his fingers, just as they had against his thigh, your hips jolt and an explosion like the breaking of sugar glass shoots down the muscles of your thighs. He scoops that stickiness up from its source, bringing the soft cream up to his mouth. Tongue darting out, he has a taste of you just as you had tasted him. “Shit—you taste good too, frosty. You’re so sweet, how’d you turn out like this? That’s okay. I’ll deal with you, and then you’ll be just as sweet as you taste.” That fat tip of him presses flush to the source of all your want. “I’ll straighten you out.”

You don’t know what that means, and you are absolutely sure that you don’t deserve it, but any sass is staunched with the utter sweetness of the stretch in your center. Taehyun presses his hips up into you, slowly and internalizing the dropping open of your mouth, the pinching of your brows into a worrying line, and the press of your palms to his broad chest. He takes it and metabolizes it down like cream cake or the plumpest fruits, and he gives you more. More, all the way up until there is no length of him left to give, and nowhere else for him to go.

You feel so, so full. No amount of twinkling jewels or new skirts hold a candle to this. You don’t know what it is, and you don’t know why Taehyun knows, but whatever. Who cares? Breathing out a shudder, you squirm beneath him to search for that dazzling feeling he’d made you feel earlier.

“Stay still,” he barks, steadying himself beside your head with a sturdy, powerful arm. When had he lost his sweater? You don’t know. You might drool over the definition and warm skin there if he didn’t pull the length of him out until just the tip of him threatens to pop out, and then drive right back in before you could. A gaspy breath falls from your mouth, devolving into mewls and whimpers when he does the same over and over and over again, quick with snapping hips and the smacking of his skin against the soft skin of your bottom. Your thigh quivers in his hold, his fingers digging into the fluff of your thigh as he holds you into it.

Each and every time he slides up against something inside you that makes you feel different. Different from what you felt when you were on his thigh, and different from anything else you’ve felt in the entirety of your life. It’s deeper, right at the very bottom of your belly, sending your veins lazy and your hips twitchy. You want to chase it as much as you want to hide from its power, so all you do is stay in a hazy limbo of sharp gasps and long, drawn out mewls for more.

“No,” he says, his face right in yours. The smell of him, manly and so very sweet like oven-warmed gingerbread, settles over your bones and wiggles its way through your thoughts. It does something to your melted mind, planting a need to cling to him right in the center. Your hands perch all over him: the hair at the back of his head, his working waist, his biceps that flex and strain with his effort, and finally around him so that you can push your cheek to his chest and feel his heart racing there. “You’ll take exactly what I give, and thank me for it. You don’t get to ask for more; not with your mouth.”

“Why?” you say, whining. “I want it—so bad. Please? I’ll be so… so good…” Your voice bounces with each collision of your bodies, and your toes flex and curl at the twisting in your core. Nonetheless, you want more. Whatever this is—this syrupy, pure goodness—Taehyun has shown you something that you will never be whole without again. He has bloomed a flower right in the chest of you, something hungry that will want and want this, and you fear that he will be the only one able to satiate it.

The thought of the smile he’ll wear, should you come crawling back to his doorstep just for this…

Taehyun stops, pushing off you with a curled lip. “What will it take to get you to fucking listen?” he says. He pulls himself from you, leaving you to whine and long for that feeling once more. You want to complain and pull him back over you, but with the fire churning in his dark gaze and the sight of his length, covered in that same white, whipped stuff you’d left all over his thigh.

You’d made a sticky, frosty, frothed mess all over him once again. Really, what would people think of you now? Your mom? Your dad?

Manhandling you again, he flips you onto your hands and knees and shoves your face into the bed. Any yelp or gasp that tears from your chest is muffled into the sheets. Taking the swell of your hips, his fingers like bites against the powdery, soft skin there, his voice comes from behind you. “Won’t you just listen to me? If you’re gonna be mine, you’re gonna have to start learning how to hear no.” Curling your hair up and pulling it like a handle, he snaps your head back into another stinging, awful tug. It turns the arch of your back into something that you can imagine is a sight to be seen. If the burning where you feel his eyes raking down the curve of it has something to speak of it, that is. You squeeze your eyes shut as if that’ll help you any. “You don’t get everything you want. That’s not how this works.”

You don’t say anything. You have nothing good or sweet left to say.

“Say thank you, and I’ll give it to you good, okay?” he says, running a flattened hand down your spine. “That’s all I want to hear. Show me you can be good.”

The last thing you want to do is to thank him. That would mean admitting that you’ve lost, and that ruffles your preening feathers. But you want that goodness back, you want his hips snapping into you and that tight knot back in your belly. You’d do anything for it; even forget your ego.

Your mind is gone, anyway. Whatever your rational self would do, it doesn’t matter. There’s one thing that you want right now, and getting it is so easy. “Thank you, Taehyun. Thank you so much… I’m sorry I’ve been a brat, and I’m sorry about what I said to you. Please, just… help me. Please, I need you so bad.”

You? Sorry? It’s absurd, and yet, you entirely mean it. Maybe it’s your lazy brain talking, or maybe he really has won.

“See? So sweet when you act right,” he says. “Let me show you what happens when you do.”

You could cry real tears when he sets that same pace, his hands bracing on your hips to pull you deeper into each thrust and the front of your body bouncing against the sheets with each. Your cries grow hoarse and beyond needy, and your insides twist and turn even more dangerously.

You are on the brink of something divine. Something that will melt down so well, good on the tongue and as smooth as chocolate, but as sharp as the snapping of gingerbread.

And, snap, he has.

“Yes!” you cry, straining your shoulders as you reach behind you and curl your fingers around the place where he meets your skin. “S..So good! Right there—thank you, Taehyun!”

He doubles down on you. His length hits a spongy spot in your core, pounding up against the walls there and turning your insides against you. It’s almost too good. “There we go,” he says, voice shaking with a growl. The delivery of his thrusts grows sloppy. You think he feels just as good as you do. “That’s what—” Falling over you, he supports himself with each strong arm dug into the mattress beside your head, his solid front melded to your soft back. “That’s what I like to hear. Here you go—fuck, I’m gonna give you what good girls get, okay?”

You hope it’s more of that melty icing he shot from his length earlier. The knot in your belly tightens, just on the brink of a glittery, bright explosion. “Mhm!” you say, your voice cracking. You want it—you want it so bad. The intensity of it, turning over in your veins and rendering your thighs jelly, sings in your ears. It’s a frightening greatness, but you rage against the urge to drop your hips into the mattress and run from it. You need to finally taste what you’ve been chasing. “Taehyun! Right there—please, don’t stop!”

You were demanding more from him again, but Taehyun didn’t stop this time. Not when his growls and whines against your shoulder tell you enough about how he’s feeling. He tongues and nips at your shoulders, the only sounds echoing off the walls of his room, the hollow smack of his hips against your bottom, and the only smell of the sweet mingling of his gingerbread sharpness against your heady marshmallow. It’s good enough to eat.

Crying out with a frantic whine, the feeling deep in your belly changes once more, and you’re writhing and squirming against him. Your hips buck and chase and run, wild and just as explosively as the tightness shooting down your thighs and up through your lower back.

Everywhere. You feel it everywhere. It’s in the continued bouncing of your body, in each nudge of his tip to a sweet, spongecake spot deep inside you, in his breathless pants into your skin, and in the curling of his fingers into your hair when he releases a hip to do so, and in your pleads when he chases his own delicious release. Your throat tightens, and suddenly the sheets are all too warm around you, and you realize with blistering intensity that another one of those knots builds up in your belly. It’s quicker, short, and bright. You’ve barely even made it through the last, but still, it comes.

“Holy shit,” he growls, hips stuttering and then stilling. He reaches a hand down between your thighs and finds a very sweet button. The breath in your throat catches, and in nothing more than a blink of an eye, you crash again, and then your bodies are two twitching, elated things. He presses himself impossibly deeper into you before shooting that same hotness, sweet ropes of sugary icing right into you, and your fluttering insides hold him tight and eat it up. Your heart pounds in your chest, running amok in your ears and your neck, and you try to catch running breaths to no avail.

Occasionally grinding up into you, though there is hardly any space between your joined bodies to do so, Taehyun shoots more lazy spurts for a few long moments. His breaths slow against your skin, and yours do in your chest. Slowly, you recover as two entangled bodies, all clammy and melted like left in the oven for a bit too long.

Pressing hot, wet kisses to the back of your neck, and then down your spine when he pushes off you and pulls himself out, his tongue darting out against your skin for some, he says, “Taste so good… So sweet, even on your skin…” He brushes the wild tangles of hair from your face and adds, “I wonder if you’ve gone all sweet inside, too? You look like it…” The mess of you, your thick creaminess staining your thighs and his runny load pooling from your hole, is all over. It even makes the sheets beneath you dirty with dribbles of his release as it drips. “I told you I’d get you sweet.”

If that sluggish, sugary thing moving through your veins is sweetness taking over you from the inside, perhaps you have gone sweet. Or, perhaps you now have every reason to become his worst nightmare—just if it gets you this.

You’ll play sweet for now. The softer kisses he seasons your skin with are no less enthralling than the delightful goodness still ebbing away between your thighs. You think that, for the first time, you have lost.

And, to your very own dismay, it tastes so very sweet.

... back to the masterlist ⌇ back to strawberryland

✎୭ ashlynn's note BRAT TAMER TAEHUN, amirite?

﹙📋﹚ @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @immelissaaa , @luv4cheol , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @hyucktapes , @bewitchless , @prince-jjae , @blankliving , @yaoizee , @stormy1408 , @missychief1404 , @izzyy-stuff , @miukuui , @lunesdesire , @304files , @sunoolver , @cherricola-star , @lickingan0rchid , @xylatox , @hmusunoo , @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @joycelyjjj , @sunoolver , @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @apeachty , @fandomtrashsblog , @bewitchless , @yezzns2 , @hhoneyhan , @ethystclove , @darkdayelixer , @calumcxke , @biteyoubiteme , @bamgeutsz , @soobabby , @little-shiny-starr , @bambammtori , @bunniebun-posted , @heeambi , @bunnisoobin , @hwanghyunjinismybae if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

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keferon · 18 hours ago

Note

Mecha headquarters is attacked. The building collapses. Blurr goes in and doesn't come back out. And Swindle's the one that's got to deal with the fallout. As far as nightmare scenarios go, this is pretty high up on Swindle's list.

----------------------------------

Swindle only pulls his phone out of his pocket when he reaches the shadows off to the side of where rescue crews are digging through the rubble of mecha headquarters. Digging they only started because Blurr, the face of mecha, went into that building and didn't come out. Digging they are only continuing because they believe they've found signs of life buried in the rock. Which is why Swindle's phone has been buzzing nonstop for the past several minutes.

He looks at the names next to the missed calls. Shockwave. Shockwave again. Pharma. Unknown number. (Shockwave?)…. The list goes on.

Swindle doesn't know how Shockwave or Pharma knows already, but they must. Swindle's first call since Blurr disappeared under that ton of rubble had been to emergency services. Every call since has been to call in favors, pull strings – exert as much influence as he can to keep the details of what's going on out of the news. To keep the potential damage this could do to a minimum.

Somehow, it hasn't been enough. Which means this situation is fast heading towards something more than what Swindle can handle on his own.

Swindle pulls a second phone from his pocket and hits the number on speed dial.

"Hello?" A voice answers within one ring of Swindle dialing. Onslaught. He relaxes slightly.

"You watching the news?" Swindle skips over customary greetings, security measures – there's no time for them now. He knows it is Onslaught on the other end of the line. Onslaught will recognize it is him by his voice. That much, they still have to be able to trust.

What exactly will be on the news, Swindle doesn't know. But, it's a safe bet that at least some of the basics of the mecha attack will be broadcast. Beyond that, it all depends on how much Swindle's contacts came through.

"Yeah. Mecha was attacked. They're saying no casualties, so why are you calling me?" Onslaught asks.

"That's all they're saying?" Swindle asks in return. "No casualties?"

"That's all. No casualties," Onslaught confirms. "Showed some footage of the fighting. Pretty standard stuff. Cut in some impressive footage of Blurr's mech. What's going on? Not that I'm not glad to hear personal confirmation you're not dead, but this line is for emergencies."

"There is one. Shockwave." Swindle says the name as though there's no further justification needed for why he's calling on this line. And really, there isn't. They had agreed to that from the start of this venture. "He's been calling me. Non-stop."

Swindle thinks he hears a soft curse on the other end of the line then, "Why would he care? What's his interest?"

"Blurr," Swindle says. "That footage, of his mech – was the actual fight. A fight he never should have been in. But he did it anyways because there was no other option. He went into the building and he never came out. He's the reason they're still here digging – the reason I'm still here."

"And the reason Shockwave's calling," Onslaught fills in.

"Yes. Him. And Pharma." Swindle adds.

"Pharma is a medic, you know. With ratchet going more or less of the grid and First Aid and Ambulon tied up with Vortex he's the highest ranked medic in mecha. It would be his job to supervise pilot injuries." Swindle can tell even over the line that Onslaught doesn't really believe his own words. But they need to make sure they've covered everything if they're going to stay ahead of this.

"He shouldn't know though. I called in favors to delay the news of Blurr's status until after excavation is complete and you said yourself the news only confirmed no casualties yet," Swindle points out. "I've sent no internal communications. Pharma shouldn't know yet. He's too close to Shockwave. Neither of them should know. But they've both been calling since the collapse – within minutes of each other."

Swindle definitely hears Onslaught swear at that. "I don't know exactly what the connection is between Shockwave and Pharma – but I don't want Pharma – or Shockwave – anywhere near this, anywhere near Blurr," he finishes.

"Blurr's alive?" The question is stated matter-of-factly, though Swindle wouldn't have blamed Onslaught for expressing a note of skepticism. If the man is still alive, there's no way he's walking away from this without serious injuries. Swindle would bet every dollar in his accounts on it.

"Possibly. There are signs of life under the rubble. We paid Blurr to be the part of a hero for the media. Turns out when it mattered it wasn't entirely an act. He saved a lot of lives today – including mine." If Blurr is pulled from that rubble alive, Swindle will give every dollar it takes from his bank account to ensure it stays that way. They need Blurr. More than he knows.

"I never told Blurr the truth behind why it was so important that mecha hire him," Swindle's voice drops as he says the words.

"I am not repaying what he did today by letting him find out firsthand whatever it is Shockwave does in those labs of his. We're not going to sit back and watch the creation of another Vortex. It was bad enough when we didn't know. Now…. Right now, I need you to distract Shockwave and Pharma."

"How long do you need?" As Swindle had at the beginning of their call, Onslaught skips the unnecessary validation and asks the question that gets at the point. It has Swindle breathing a sigh of relief.

"A few hours, minimum. But I'll take anything you can give me, just stall them as long as you can. I've got to go." Swindle hangs up without waiting for Onslaught's reply. A stretcher is being carried out of the ruins towards a waiting helicopter.

Swindle manages to make it onboard just before take-off. He rides all the way to the hospital with Blurr. Handles all the forms. Tells the receptionists to put the bills on his card. He knows (hopes) Blurr could do it when the time came (the man certain has the money; Swindle's been writing his checks) – but he shouldn't have to. All Blurr should have to focus on is his recovery, and what comes next. Blurr should have friends, family, a partner – someone to support him in this.

Swindle knows – has known since early on in working with Blurr – that that is not the case. He's observed enough to see that Blurr asks for help if he truly needs it, but no one just offers it to him. Because no one knows to. In this case, Blurr cannot ask, so Swindle manages instead.

In an ideal world, someone would stay by Blurr's hospital bed, simply so the man didn't have to wake up alone in unfamiliar surroundings with no explanations. But this is not an ideal world. And Swindle is not that person. His time runs out long before then.

Fresh blood has been spilled. The predators are circling. Swindle has a show to put on. The best he can do is leave his card on the bedside table as a reminder and hope Blurr actually calls if he needs anything.

I. LOVE THIS. SO FUCKING MUCH YOU CANNOT EVEN IMAGINE

Absolutely in love with this conspiracy thing Onslaught and Swindle have going on. Because YES. OF COURSE. Gosh this is why I love Combaticons. They’re on their own side. Whatever system they are forced to be part of - it doesn’t have full control on them. They’re doing their own thing ehehehehhehe

#maccadam #transformers #tf mecha universe #mecha art #hmm….how tf do I tag it #mecha cbc art #swindle #mecha writing #mecha cbc writing #mecha bs writing #blurr #Onslaught

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wlwxreader · 3 days ago

Text

Not a Crush

not my gif

Jackie Taylor x fem!reader

Summary: despite what the entire team thinks, Jackie doesn’t have a crush on you. So why does it make her skin crawl when she sees a guy trying to flirt with you?

Warning(s): jealous!Jackie, possessive!Jackie, oblivious!reader, pre-crash!Jackie, Nat being a little shit, simp!Jackie

Word count: 2.6k

Masterlist: tba

No matter how much the team teased her about it, Jackie Taylor did not have a crush on you.

Did she like your soft smile? Yes. Could she spend days on end listening to a recording of your cheerful and sweet laugh? Why, of course. Did her heart stop whenever you looked at her a second too long? Maybe, but it was only because she thought you were beautiful —in a platonic way.

She did not like you. She didn’t think of you every night before she went to bed. Nope. Not at all. And Nat could shove her own words up her ass, because she sure as hell wasn’t a simp for you.

Yeah, as if.

“Hey,” you waved your hand in the air as you walked towards the field. You had just changed into your football uniform, and looked around. “Is everyone ready for practice?”

“Yeah,” Nat said, stretching her arms. “We were waiting for you for like, I don’t know, ten minutes.”

“You’re the last one. You know what that means,” Van smirked at you, and if it wasn’t for Tai’s presence next to them, you would have walked over to smack them in the face.

“Gotta run for ten minutes around the field,” Lottie said in a singsong voice. You narrowed your eyes at her.

“I’m gonna get you, Matthews,” you threatened with mock anger.

“What’s going on?” Jackie, who had been talking to coach Ben about something, asked. Her smile grew a little bigger when she noticed you within the other team players, and you swear you heard Nat and Shauna giggle to each other.

“Y/N was last,” Nat said. “She has to run for ten minutes.”

“Okay, fine—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jackie said. Her voice, always soft and bright, was commanding. She wasn’t the Jackie who played around anymore, she was captain Jackie, and everyone in the team knew it.

“What?” Van asked, offended. They looked between the both of you, mouth ajar. “That’s not fair! It’s a tradition you started, Jackie. Last one has in the field during practice has to run while the others train. Y/N was the last one today.”

“Enough, Palmer,” Jackie gave them a stern look. “Y/N was late because of me.”

You gave her a surprised look, taken aback by her lie. You should not have been bewildered, though— Jackie always had your back no matter what, using her easy charm to cover up for your slip-ups

“Making out before practice?” Nat asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Jackie’s cheeks turned a bright red color, but she didn’t dare to look at you. Instead, she clapped her hands together a few times, and everyone around sobered up.

“Divide yourself into two teams,” Jackie raised her voice. “Whoever team wins, gets to rest while the others run a lap.”

Everyone groaned, looking around to start to form the groups, trying to be as equitative as possible.

“Shauna, you’re captain of team green. Team blue is my team,” Jackie called, and the brown eyed woman nodded, wasting no time to craft the perfect team in her mind as she looked at everyone in the field.

“Okay, cool—”

“Y/N,” Jackie interrupted her best friend. “You’re on my team.”

“And in her heart,” whispered Nat.

Thankfully, neither Jackie nor you hear it.

If Jackie did not like you, she obviously also didn’t feel any ownership over you. She wasn’t jealous, she wasn’t possessive; there was no point in being those things, as you were both just two good friends.

But sometimes, someone would walk up to you and Jackie forgot her inner mantra, throwing it out the window of her mind. The person would smirk and lean in close, feigning they could not hear what you were saying, and Jackie would feel something dark and uncomfortable burning inside of her.

Sure, you weren’t hers, but that didn’t mean anyone had the right to talk to you, so obviously trying to flirt it was painful to observe.

They didn’t have the right because— because— well, because she said so.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jackie said, walking up to your locker.

Her voice was high-pitched, and you turned to look at her. Anyone else would have thought nothing of her tone, but you knew her; it was the same voice she used when she wanted to be rude but knew she couldn’t.

“Hi, Jackie,” you said, completely forgetting about the man who was talking to you about the chemistry test you both had next week.

Jackie walked with purpose, and she stood in front of you. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her body. You sighed in relief; it was starting to get cold, and her warmth was welcomed.

The woman smiled when you rested your head on her shoulder, and big green eyes twinkling as she started the man down.

“What were you talking about?” she asked, even though she wasn’t interested in the least. She knew how men were— she suffered their unwanted advances on the daily. It was all an act to get you on their bed.

“Oh,” the man said, clearing his throat. “We were discussing the next chemistry exam—”

“Well, I hope you study hard. Bye.”

You barely had time to close your locker before Jackie was pulling you away from that man.

“Hey— Jackie,” you complained, pulling your books closer to your chest. “What was that for?”

“That boy is a womanizer,” Jackie said through gritted teeth. “He just wanted to get in your panties.”

“You think?” you asked, turning slightly to look at the boy, who was leaning against your locker and staring at you. When he saw you looking back, he smirked and waved. “I think he just wants help studying.”

“You’re too naïve,” the blonde said. “He has tried that same trick with half the school.”

“Really?” you whispered conspicuously. “I thought he was just being friendly.”

Jackie shook her head, leaning in to kiss the side of your head. Her arm was still around you, and it made you walk awkwardly. You still didn’t complain.

“Boys are never friendly just because, Y/N,” she said. “They only got one thing on their mind.”

“Kissing?” you raised an eyebrow at her.

Jackie’s laugh could be heard all around the halls, a melodic sound that carried you out of the building.

“Every year it gets colder earlier,” you complained, shivering slightly.

“Are you cold?” Jackie asked, finally pulling away. You almost moaned in complain at the lack of warmth on your side, but before you could voice your discomfort, a weight was placed on your shoulders.

You looked to your side to see Jackie’s team letterman jacket resting over you. You smiled, putting your books in one hand to put the sleeve on.

“Thank you,” you said, with genuine gratitude. Jackie shook her head, simply reaching over to grab your books so you fully put on the jacket.

“Wanna hang out in the field?” she asked. Once you had the jacket on, she wrapped her arm around your shoulders again, because she wanted to but most importantly, because she could.

“The one time we don’t have to train, and you still wanna go over there,” you rolled your eyes, but followed her steps when she changed course.

She laughed again, turning to look at you. With bright big eyes, and lips pulled into a tight smile, you thought no one would ever be as pretty as she was.

As you walked, Jackie peaked behind you and saw the same man, looking over with frowned eyes. As she heard you talking about your day, she raised her arm enough for everyone to see the back of your jacket, where Taylor stood proudly over her team number.

She’s wearing my jacket, not yours. Dipshit.

To say she was ecstatic at his scolf was an understatement.

Yeah, she thought, let everyone know she only wears my number. Let everyone know she’s mine.

That time, she didn’t try to correct herself.

“I think Jackie has a crush on me.”

Van, who was tying up their cleats, stopped suddenly.

“Uh?” they asked, blinking a few times.

“I—” you cleared your throat, your cheeks suddenly turning red. “I think she might like like me.”

“Oh, shit,” Van said, rubbing their face.

“Did— did I say something wrong?”

“Yes!” Van let go of the laces, irritated. “You weren’t supposed to find out until November. You just lost me ten bucks!” they groaned. “Thanks, buddy.”

“What?” you gave them a puzzling look. “Wait— you have bet on me?”

“No,” Van waved their hands around. “Not on you. On your inability to see what’s happening right in front of your face, to be exact.”

“Okay, rude,” you said. “I’m not that oblivious.”

“Oh, no. Of course not,” Van said. Their tone was laced with sarcasm. “You joined the team two years ago, and only now you have realized.”

“Wait, she has liked me for two years?” you asked in a whisper.

“Duh,” Van gave you a long look. “Jesus, you’re a lost cause.”

“Screw you.”

“What made you realize?” Van asked, with genuine curiosity. They put their feet back down on the ground, leaning over the bench to look at you.

“She, um—” you looked around, making sure no one else was in the changing room. Feeling guilty over spilling such deep secrets, you moved over and sat down next to Van, so no one else would hear. “She kind of lied, the other day. So I wouldn’t have to run around the field.”

“She always lies,” Van scoffed.

“Jackie never lies,” you said, firmly. You gave the redhead a look, one that would have been threatening if it wasn’t coming from you. “She’s an honest person.”

Van chuckled. “She will lie to save your ass,” they said. “Because she’s the fattest crush on you.”

“Fuck,” you whispered.

After practice a week later, instead of going back to the changing room with the rest of the team, you grabbed Jackie and pulled at her hand, forcing her to move toward the bleachers. She went willingly, allowing you to take her wherever it was that you wanted her to be.

She would walk through fire if it meant holding your hand.

In a platonic way, of course.

“Jackie,” you said in a serious tone. You took a deep breath, and stared into big green eyes who looked back with passion. “We need to talk.”

She frowned her eyebrows, quickly picking up on your mood swing. “What’s wrong?” she asked, moving closer.

Jackie’s hand rested on your waist when she saw you starting to pull away. She hated it; hated whenever there was distance between the two of you. She wanted you close to her always, holding your hand and laughing with you.

“I think— I think you might be interested in someone.”

Jackie gave you a puzzling look. Her, being into someone? Not a chance.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” She asked, as confused as she has ever been.

“Don’t make me say it, please,” you moaned, like a petulant toddler. “This is embarrassing.”

“Well, I can’t read your mind, can I?”

You looked away from her, incapable of looking into her eyes as you spoke.

“I think I might like someone, too.”

Jackie froze at your words. Her jaw dropped, eyes open so wide it looked like they might jump out of their sockets.

“Youâ€¦” she gave a bewildered look. “You like someone?”

You nodded, and her hand tightened on your waist, as if she needed some support to keep her from falling over.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered, closing her eyes. You gave her a concerned look.

“Jackieâ€��”

“Is it that boy from the locker? The one who kept trying to flirt with you?”

“No. It’sâ€¦” you cleared your throat. “It’s not a boy.”

“Oh, no,” Jackie blinked away the white spots that were starting to form on her vision. “Nat? Tai? Or—” she gasped, looking at you accusingly. “Don’t tell me it’s Shauna.”

“Why would it be— No! It’s not Shauna.”

“It’s not?” she gave you a look. “Thank god.”

“It’s you,” you whispered.

“Me?” Jackie asked, trying to make sure she had heard you properly. “You like me. Me.”

“Yeah. I like you, Jackie.”

She leaned in close to you, looking at your lips. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for her kiss. Instead, you felt her weight over you, literally on you.

“Jackie? Oh my god!”

Safe to say, it took the Yellowjackets over a month to get over the little spectacle you and coach Ben had pulled off when Jackie fainted.

You had wanted to keep it a secret, of course— Class Queen and captain of the football team, fainting because a girl had confessed their feelings to her? The rumor would be too juicy. But you also couldn’t control yourself when Jackie fell on top of you, eyes closed and mouth open, and it took you approximately ten seconds to take all the information in before you were screaming for help.

The help came in the form of Ben, who had come over running. He frantically looked at the team captain, laying on the grass as you fanned her with your hand, and he ran back inside to get Bill’s help.

It didn’t take long for the girls to come out of the changing room, and soon enough they pulled the pieces together; your conversation with Van they had told the entire team (which had led to Tai waving around fifteen ten dollar bills around the showers), your nervous attitude over practice, the tension they had felt before they left the two of you alone…

“Holy shit,” Nat said, smirking as you tried to wake Jackie up. “She fainted. She actually fainted.”

The story soon spread, faster and more explosive than gunpowder around fire. Soon enough, Jackie Taylor’s untaintable reputation got washed away by the new knowledge that she was a hopeless romantic.

Two months later, people would still whisper about Jackie whenever she walked down the corridors of Wiskayok High School.

“You think you will still be Class Queen after… what happened?” you asked, taking notice of how many students were staring at the two of you.

“Of course,” she smiled that charming smile you loved so much. “I’m Jackie Taylor, baby. This highschool would be nothing without me.”

“You’re too full of it,” you rolled your eyes.

She wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you in close to her. She kissed your cheek, smiling.

“It doesn’t bother you?” you asked once you reached your locker. “Y’know, everyone still talking about it?”

“Let them talk. They aren’t mean, anyways,” Jackie said, raising her shoulders. You gave her a look; she would never notice just how many people thought ill of her. She thought too kindly of the world, but that made it two of you. “As long as it makes them talk about how you’re my girlfriend, I don’t care.”

You put the books you no longer needed back into your locker, and once you closed it, she pressed you against it.

When her lips pressed against yours, you stopped worrying about the whispers and the teasing from the team; Jackie was right.

Let them talk.

#yellowjackets #jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x you #ella purnell #x reader #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews #shauna shipman #natalie scatorccio #van palmer #taissa turner #misty quigley #lesbian #wlw #yellowjackets fanfic #Ella purnell x reader

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azzifuddslover · 16 hours ago

Text

UNRAVEL — chapter two

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

tw: minimal swearing

themes: fluff, angst, little jealousy

word count: 6.1k

a/n: oh my goodness i’m in love with this chapter! i’m obsessed with this concept and them in general, so so cute my babies fr 🫶 please lemme know how u like it, feedback, etc. also if u wanna be on the tag list, tell me please! enjoy reading my lovelies 𝜗𝜚

the familiar ringtone echoes in azzi’s quiet room, pulling her from her consuming thoughts. she swipes to answer the facetime, and there was paige, her face glowing on the screen. her blonde hair was thrown in a messy ponytail, with a couple strands left loose, framing her face.

“hey!” azzi smiles in the phone, “i was wondering if you’d call.”

“sorry, practice ran longer than usual,” paige explains, her heart quickening at the sight of the brunette.

“typical. you need a break, p,” azzi says, voice laced with concern.

“nah, it’s all good. coach just wants to push me ‘til i reach my ‘full potential,’” she quotes with her fingers, rolling her eyes playfully.

“you’re already the best, though,” azzi notes, scrunching her eyebrows downward.

paige tries furiously to fight off her blush, quickly covering her cheeks with her palms. “you’re the best, az.”

azzi simply rolls her eyes at the comment— she attempts to ignore the swirling feeling erupting in her stomach, unsure what they mean.

“i miss hanging out so much,” azzi whispers, leaning herself back against her bed. “i miss you.”

“i miss you more,” paige replies, sharing a similar look of longing.

“how long has it been since we’ve seen each other? like, seven months?” azzi asks, prompting her elbows up.

paige nods as she pulls her lips into a straight line. she doesn’t let azzi know how much she thinks about her, how much she desperately wishes she was near every moment of every day. god, she would do anything to be close to her favorite person right about now.

the two girls continue their conversation, filled with collective laughter and buzzing energy radiating off them. amy, paige’s mother, peaks her head in her daughter’s room, observing paige throw her head back, chuckling at something azzi had said moments prior. she silently smiles to herself— she’s never seen paige like this before, being so consumed by a person, let alone her so called best friend. she automatically knew there was something more, something paige wouldn’t allow herself to admit.

when paige and azzi eventually end the facetime, after talking for about three hours back and forth, paige immediately knows what she needs to do. she pushes herself up off her bed, rushing out of her dark room, jogging until she reaches her mother’s room, where amy is sitting peacefully, with a book in her hands.

“mom,” paige says, “i need to ask you something.”

amy adverts her eyes to her daughter, who’s practically bubbling with anticipation. “what is it, paige?”

“before you say no, please just know it’ll make me the happiest girl in the world,” the blonde pleads, “i was wondering if maybe.. i could go visit azzi.”

amy turns her knowing smirk away from her daughter with her book, which she eventually closes and sets down in her lap. “and when would you do that?”

“i don’t know, preferably really soon.”

amy takes a moment to carefully consider paige’s words, yet she already knows her answer. for months, all paige would talk about is azzi. how talented she is at basketball, stories she shared on facetime, how much she misses hanging out with her— how much she misses her, in general.

the corner of amy’s lips tug into a small grin, already anticipating her daughter’s reaction. “i guess that’s fine.”

the young girl lets out a squeal before running up to her mother, pulling her into a tight embrace. “thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“we need to discuss the details first,” amy reminds her while she pats her back.

“of course! but i don’t wanna tell azzi— i was thinking kinda like a surprise visit,” paige replies, eyes sparkling with excitement.

as she pulls away, amy catches the light in her daughter’s eyes— an unmistakable blend of pure joy and determination. “that sounds fun. when do you want to go?”

“maybe next weekend, if that’s okay with you? and azzi’s parents, duh,” paige suggests, eagerly.

the lingering smirk on amy’s face widens, the warmth of paige’s enthusiasm wrapping around her. “alright, that’s fine by me. i’ll give katie a text.”

paige plops a kiss on her mother’s cheek to indicate how grateful she is. “thank you so much, mom. i’m so excited.”

“i know you are,” amy glances at the blonde.

as paige walks out of the room, amy watches her with a mix of affection and a touch of nostalgia, realizing how important this trip is for her daughter. how important azzi is to her. she knows it’s more than just a visit; it’s filled with friendship, growth, and a chance for something deeper to blossom.

several days pass, yet paige’s excitement to visit azzi only heightens. she can hardly believe she’s going to be with azzi in a matter of days, counting down the hours like a child waiting for a holiday.

every minute feels charged with anticipation. she’s been spending her evenings planning out the trip, jotting down all the things her and azzi could do together— basketball drills, movie nights, anything, really, as long as they’re by each other’s sides.

luckily, days prior, azzi’s parents were kind enough to agree, allowing paige into their home for a couple of days.

as the day of her departure approaches, paige packs up her bag, triple-checking to avoid leaving anything behind she might need. she grabs her bathroom necessitates— skincare products, toothbrush, floss, toothpaste— as well as a couple of causal, cozy outfits. she also stuffs in some smaller items, like her phone charger, deodorant, wallet, body spray.

once paige is all packed and ready to go, amy grabs her car keys, preparing to make the drive to the airport. no matter how many times amy suggested she comes with her, paige insisted she goes by herself— wanting to experience traveling alone for the first time.

paige slugs her duffel over her shoulder, slowly making her way out of the house and into the car. she pulls on her seatbelt, eager to feel the thrill of independence, but also eager to see her best friend for the first time in months.

the drive to the airport feels like it lasts forever, her anticipation growing beyond limits. however, she relishes every moment, imagining azzi’s face when she sees her.

“are you positive you don’t want me to go with you?” amy questions her daughter, throwing a swift glance her way.

paige nods lightly, “yeah, mom, i’m sure. i need to travel alone eventually.”

“i understand that, but you’re only 16, paige. it’s dangerous,” amy notes, concern laced in her tone.

“people my age fly by themselves all the time— it’s no big deal.”

amy lets out a soft sigh, “alright, if you say so. but please be careful, and stay with them the entire time— no funny business.”

paige rolls her eyes, “mom, i’m literally going there just for azzi. why would i leave?”

amy shrugs, “i don’t know, but you’re a teenager, who knows what y’all do.”

paige chuckles, a grin appearing on her face, “it’ll be good, trust me.”

the two grow silent, listening to the rhythmic beat of the music playing from the radio. paige’s gaze lingers on the window as her imagination runs free. she can’t wait to be close to azzi— to hug her, feel her warmth against her own frame. more importantly, she can’t wait to simply talk with her, in person. azzi seems to get paige, to understand her, better than anyone else in her life. she understands how she’s feeling— she even lets her rant on and on, listening to every word of her nonsense. paige and azzi’s friendship made them think so similarly, basically the same people at this point. the two practically live in each other’s skin with how well they know one another.

regardless of being long distance, paige and azzi’s friendship has remained well in tact. they facetime everyday, talking for hours on end, or until one of them falls asleep on call. each conversation they have feels like a lifeline, bridging the gap between their separate lives.

as the car finally rolls closer to the destination, paige feels a rush of energy and nerves. she can’t help but think what if things are different? she shakes her head, dismissing her doubts. deep down, she’s confident their bond will remain strong even after not seeing each other for months.

“are you ready to go?” amy asks, glancing over at her daughter once she parks the car.

“more than ready,” paige smiles, voice filled with determination.

the mother and daughter pair stroll into the airport, paige with her duffel bag loosely in her grip, and amy walking alongside her.

paige’s mother helps her get through security and everything she might require help for, and before she knows it, it’s time to board the plane.

“remember to call me as soon as you land,” amy squints her eyes, a hint of motherly concern in her tone.

paige playfully rolls her eyes back, “you know i will,” she assures her, “thanks, mom.”

with a final hug, paige steps out of her mother’s tight hold, gathers her belongings and begins walking over to the appropriate gate. the airport is bustling with activity, people going in and out at a rapid pace. yet, all paige can think about is azzi.

she boards the plane with no issues and eventually gets situated and comfortable in her seat. luckily, she has a window spot with nobody sitting directly next to her.

as the aircraft takes off, she gazes out the window, watching the ground fade away beneath her. she tries her best to contain her excitement, but the thought of being with azzi only fuels it further.

the few hours paige is on the plane, she takes the time to relax, watch a movie or two, and eventually heads to sleep peacefully. however, shortly after falling asleep, she stirs awake at a sudden shake of the plane.

she takes a deep, steady breath as the plane carefully lands at its designated runway. she feels a rush of relief crash over her once she realizes she’s made it safely to virginia. the sound of seatbelts unbuckling and the conversations of passengers fills the previous silence of the plane. she takes a moment to gather her things, heart racing as she is getting closer and closer to seeing her best friend.

paige takes the time to give a quick call to her mother, assuring her she’s alright and has made it to virginia safely.

with her heavy duffel thrown over the shoulder of the blonde, she scans the crowd, looking for the familiar faces of azzi’s parents, katie and tim. just as she spots tim, he waves enthusiastically, a wide smile plastered on his face. they previously agreed to come pick her up, which made paige feel much more welcomed.

“hey paige,” katie tilts her head, observing the young girl who continues to radiate eagerness.

“hello mrs. fudd,” paige lips turn up, nerves still swirling in her stomach.

katie gives her a soft, fast hug around her shoulders, “please call me katie, you know this.”

paige lets out a small laugh, “right, sorry.”

tim and paige exchange a quick hug as well, welcoming one another. “how’ve you been, kiddo?”

paige shrugs, “pretty good. basketball is really crazy right now.”

“ah, same for azzi. poor girl barely has any time for anything outside of basketball,” katie notes.

“i know, she’s told me like a thousand times,” paige chuckles at the memory of azzi ranting on and on about her practices.

tim and katie share a knowing look, subtle smiles on their lips. the three walk through security, then off to their parked car outside. tim takes the drivers seat, while katie positions herself in the passenger spot. jose, azzi’s brother, is seated on the right side in the back, mindlessly scrolling on his phone, clearly bored out of his mind. paige takes the seat next to him on the left, and gently setting her bag at her feet.

“hey jose,” she says.

“what’s up,” jose looks up, a smile on his face.

a comfortable silence hangs in the car as they travel down the road. finally, katie speaks up. “azzi’s going to be so happy about this.”

“i sure hope so,” paige says, “i know i am.”

azzi’s parents laugh, glancing at one another once more. “she’s been talking about wanting to see you so much, i’m glad it’s finally happening.”

paige’s eyebrows shoot up, “she talks about me?”

katie looks at the blonde in the rear view mirror, “practically everyday, paige.”

“it’s so annoying— always going on and on about paige this, and paige that. she’s like, obsessed with you, i swear,” jose adds, breaking his silence.

katie gives her son a look as paige’s eyes widen. she figures he’s kidding— there’s no way azzi is obsessed with her, even though paige definitely is.

“actually?” paige whispers, eyeing the young boy.

jose nods rapidly, a flick of annoyance on his face. paige feels her cheeks redden at the thought, although she is still unbelieving.

the car comes to stop, indicating they’ve arrived at the fudd home. paige’s heart pounds in her heart, her purse quickening at an abnormal rate. she swings open the car door, flinging her stuffed bag over her shoulders once more.

“i’m so excited for her reaction,” tim laughs, eyes crinkling.

“me too,” paige says through her wide grin.

katie unlocks and opens the front door, revealing an unusual silence. paige scans the room, looking for her favorite curly headed brunette. she gently sets down her duffel next to the empty couch, still questioning where azzi is.

“she’s probably in her room,” katie speaks up.

paige nods, slowly inching down the hallway before reaching a door labeled ‘azzi.’ she smiles, because it’s just so azzi.

she opens the door quietly, heart racing once again. inside, the room is dimly lit, fairy lights casting a warm glow. paige takes a moment to admire the chaos— books piled high, notes scattered across her desk.

looking to the left, her eyes finally lock on the familiar face of her best friend, who’s currently engrossed in a novel with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, not bothering to look up. paige smirks at the sight of azzi like this.

“you’re such a nerd,” paige says, eventually announcing her presence.

azzi looks up and is immediately taken aback. her lips part as shock washes over here, not quite understanding how paige is here, in her house, in her room.

not wasting a moment, azzi throws her book down, allowing her blanket to flow to the ground. she rushes paige, yanking her into her embrace— her arms wrap tightly around her back, squeezing the life out of her, trying to convince herself this isn’t some sort of sick dream.

“how are you here?” azzi murmurs against the blonde’s frame, who’s holding her equally as tight.

“my mom agreed to let me come here, after i practically begged,” paige laughs, casually adjusting her hand to be placed on the small of azzi’s back, “your parents picked me up from the airport.”

azzi nuzzles her face against the crook of paige’s neck, “i missed you so bad.”

paige’s smile only grows, stepping back until both she and azzi are sitting on her bed, still wrapped in each others warmth. azzi couldn’t get enough of paige, her best friend, being so close like they haven’t seen one another in months.

“i missed you, az.”

the two girls finally pull away, settling in a comfortable silence, the weight of being separated still hanging in the air.

“i can’t believe you’re really here,” azzi whispers, eyes roaming the blonde’s face.

“me either,” paige whispers back, holding eye contact.

a moment goes by with the pair just looking at each other— paige can’t seem to find a singular flaw in the entirety of azzi’s face. she’s one of the most stunning girls she’s ever laid eyes on. the way her brown curls hang around her face perfectly, to her cute dark brown eyes full of admiration. she could stare at azzi for hours.

paige clears her throat, breaking the moment before it becomes too heavy. “so, what do you wanna do?” she asks, a look of longing still apparent on her expression.

“um..” she takes a moment to think, trying to get her mind off the blonde in front of her, “we can watch a movie?”

“that sounds nice,” paige nods, agreeing with the idea.

the two girls make themselves comfortable on azzi’s messy bed— azzi lays closer to the wall, while paige lays out besides her, not quite touching the younger girl.

paige and azzi settle on one of their favorites, the parent trap. paige lets out a soft yawn, trying to keep her exhaustion at bay�� she doesn’t want to go to bed yet, considering how little she’s talked with azzi so far.

throughout the course of the movie, the girls make small talk, discussing their favorite parts of the movie and basketball related things. paige brings up an nba game, to which azzi rolls her eyes, not caring if it isn’t about steph curry.

“azzi, paige, dinner is ready!” katie yells from down the hall.

the pair is slow to get up, eventually pulling themselves from their positions on azzi’s comfortable bed. they make their way down the hall, fingers nearly brushing, but paige pulls away before any touch can occur— it’s not that she doesn’t want to, she does— it’s the fear that prevents paige from pushing for anything further.

azzi’s family, including paige, find their designated spots at the dinner table. paige naturally sits next to azzi, scooting her chair slightly closer to her best friend.

as they eat, barely any conversations develop, as they are solely focused on the food in front of them. it isn’t until tim speaks up does the silence break.

“so paige, any boyfriends we should know about?” he questions before taking another bite of food.

paige coughs, choking on her food at his sudden question. paige glances at the brunette next to her, who is shy to meet her gaze.

“um, no— no boyfriend for me,” paige politely smiles, quickly turning her attention back to her plate.

azzi shifts in her spot, adjusting her legs quietly. paige lets out a jagged breath, noticing the growing, slightly awkward silence.

“azzi has a boyfriend,” jon, one of azzi’s brother, smirks.

paige feels her heart skip a beat at his comment— she’s never thought to ask azzi about her love life, it simply was never a conversation they ever had.

“he’s not my boyfriend,” azzi defends, throwing her younger brother a look. her lips pull into a line as she squirms in her seat.

paige’s gaze drag over azzi’s frame, her curiosity growing to an excessive amount. azzi briefly meets the blonde’s line of sight, a flash of vulnerability passing between them.

“really?” paige whispers, trying to keep her tone light despite the sudden tightness in her chest. “i didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

azzi fidgets, a mix of embarrassment and defensiveness swirling in her face. “it’s not serious or anything… we’re just hanging out,” she explains, her voice a bit quieter than usual.

as the meal wraps up, and the conversation flows between azzi and her family, paige can’t seem to shake the uneasy feeling in her chest. azzi has a boyfriend— well, a boy she’s hanging out with. she watches azzi laugh with her brothers, only intensifying the longing in her chest.

eventually, paige and azzi head back into azzi’s room; paige makes sure to widen their distance as the feeling from earlier still suffocates her. once inside, the familiar comfort settles around them again, but it feels different now, filled with unspoken words.

azzi flops on her bed, pulling a blanket, one of many, around her shoulders. “i’m so glad you’re here,” she says softly.

“me too,” paige murmurs, avoiding any sort of eye contact with the brunette.

a moment of silence stretches between them, the conversation from the dining table still making an impact. eventually, azzi breaks it, looking more serious than before. “is something wrong?”

paige looks at the ground, feeling embarrassed to be so upset over such a small thing. why is this having an effect on her? they’re best friends, not anything more.

“why didn’t you tell me about your boyfriend?” paige looks up, a hint of sadness in her tone.

“he’s not my boyfriend,” azzi repeats, but continues, “i don’t know, though. it’s nothing serious, so i figured it wasn’t really important.”

paige takes some time to digest azzi’s words. not long after does she reply, “i understand. i don’t think i’d tell you if i was seeing someone either.”

azzi’s lips scrunch, although she understands where the older girl is coming from. relationships, dating, any kind of love talk was unusual for them.

“what’s his name?” paige asks, trying to avoid anymore silence between them.

“jayden,” azzi smirks, eyes twinkling in the glow of light.

paige hums, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “jayden, huh? sounds… nice.”

azzi notices the slight tremor in paige’s voice, “yeah, he’s cool, i guess. we just hang out, like i said.”

“just hang out,” paige echoes, her mind racing with what that could entail. she bites her lip, trying to suppress the wave of emotion swelling within her. “what does that mean?”

azzi breaks eye contact, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “we talk, go to the mall, things like that,” she replies, her voice trailing off.

paige swallows hard, the weight of azzi’s words settling in, “but you like him?”

azzi hesitates, her fingers twist the fabric of the blanket that’s wrapped around her. “i mean.. maybe a little? i’m not in love with him, or anything.”

paige nods slowly, but the pit in her stomach doesn’t ease. “i see.”

more silence stretches between the two girls, unsure what to say next.

“are you… okay?” azzi asks, noticing paige’s change in mood.

paige flicks her head to look at azzi, “yeah, sorry— it just caught me off guard, y’know.”

azzi nods, understanding where she’s coming from. “i get that,” she whispers.

azzi turns back on the movie they were previously watching before getting interrupted for dinner, making herself more comfortable on her bed. paige lays out on a beanbag, not bothering to share the bed with the younger girl.

they watch the parent trap quietly, not wanting to force any conversation. eventually, night rolls around and the movie ends, the soft glow of the screen flickering out. azzi yawns and stretches, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“wanna call it a night?” she says, glancing at the clock.

paige nods, though she feels a pang of reluctance at the thought of leaving the comfort of their time together. “yeah, that sounds good.”

azzi smiles gently before gesturing to the empty space next to her on the bed. “you can come over here. there’s plenty of room, and much more comfortable than the beanbag.”

paige hesitates, wondering if the tension from their previous conversation still hangs. “you sure?”

“of course,” azzi assures her, her voice light and genuine.

with a sigh of relief, paige moves off the beanbag and shuffles over to the bed, where azzi lays fully under the covers. she settles in besides azzi, the warmth of her friend’s presence instantly soothing her. they lie side by side, yet the distance between the girls is evident.

paige adjusts her position, allowing herself to face azzi, although she’s turned towards the wall. she stares at the back of azzi’s head, thoughts still consuming her. her mind goes back and forth, wondering why it matters that azzi’s talking to a boy. she’s her friend, why does she care?

she tries to convince herself it’s something else, a reason that doesn’t involve any sort of feelings towards the girl in front of her. she takes a deep breath, focusing on the rise and fall of azzi’s shoulders instead. yet the truth lingers, unacknowledged and nagging.

paige stirs away, eyes pulling apart ever so slightly, just enough to glimpse at the brunette laying peacefully asleep next to her. it remains dark, telling paige it’s the middle of the night.

the older girl realizes the distance between them has shortened, making azzi only inches apart from herself. their legs are twisted together, while her hand is loosely on her forearm.

feeling bold, trying to ignore the speed of her pulse, paige gently intertwines her fingers with azzi’s. an innocent act of affection that feels natural— considering they’ve done it countless times before— yet it’s filled with more tension than before.

azzi shifts slightly, a light sigh escaping her lips, but she doesn’t fully wake. instead, she instinctively squeezes paige’s hand, a sleepy smile on her face.

paige swears she feels her heart skip a beat. “az,” she whispers, but azzi only moves closer, nuzzling deeper in her pillow.

with a gentle smirk, paige rubs her thumbs against azzi’s hand, feeling a comforting warmth spread between them. it feels perfect, their shared moment— paige tries desperately to ignore how much she enjoys touching azzi, regardless of how little holding her hand is.

as the world outside fades away, nothing but the sound of azzi’s soft breathing in the air, paige allows herself to relax, drifting off to sleep with a new sense of peace, knowing that they’re connected, even in the dark.

two days pass with paige staying with azzi, enjoying her company and wishing she could stay with her, forever. the laughter they share throughout the day and the quiet moments spent talking about whatever comes to mind, each day filled with a new layer of intimacy and admiration for the other. they walk hand in hand, convincing themselves every pair of friends casually do it, while they steal glances at each other, lingering just a minute too long.

as the third and final day of paige’s stay settles in, paige curls up in a blanket, positioned on azzi’s bed— the soft glow of the moon casting a silver light through the window. azzi has been unusually quiet the entire day, lost in her own consuming thoughts. paige sensed it ever since earlier, but hasn’t questioned her about it— as she drifts asleep, she silently hopes her best friend is doing alright.

around midnight, the soft sound of rustling pulls paige from her dreams. she painfully opens her eyes to see azzi crawling through the window, eyes red with tear stained cheeks. “azzi?” she whispers, her heart racing as she sits up, becoming highly alert.

azzi looks up, her eyes wide and glistening with fresh tears, “i’m sorry—“ she begins, voice shaky, “sorry for waking you.”

paige quickly moves until she reaches the brunette, pulling her down to sit on the bed, facing her. “what’s wrong, az? where were you?”

“i went to see jayden… he said he wanted to see me,” azzi whispers, shame laced in her voice, “he tried to kiss me and i panicked, so i pulled away. after that he kept saying mean things, like how he never liked me, how i’m not even pretty…”

paige swears she hears her own heart crack at the vulnerability of azzi’s words. without hesitation, she wraps her arms around azzi, pulling her close in a comforting manner. “i’m so sorry, az,” she mutters softly, feeling her friend’s body against hers, “you deserve to be treated so much better than that.”

azzi’s shoulders tremble as she leans further into paige’s grip, already feeling better with paige’s presence near. “i don’t know why i’m crying, i didn’t even like him that much. it’s just the things he kept saying…” she continues, letting out a small hiccup.

paige rubs her hand back and forth on azzi’s back, trying to soothe the girl. with this doing, azzi grows too consumed in how good it feels to be in the arms of paige.

paige pulls back slightly, just enough to view her face. “you are so special, azzi. please don’t let some boy make you feel any different.” with that, she leans in and kisses azzi’s forehead, her hands coming up to cradle her face. she drags her lips down to her cheeks, covering every inch of her face with soft, featherlike kisses. azzi’s heart lunges in her chest, feeling her pulse heighten with every kiss paige plants on her tear-stained face. when she places a final, longer kiss along her jaw, she looks up, “and for the record, he’s wrong for saying you’re not pretty. you’re fucking perfect, az.”

she sniffles, a small smile breaking through her now fading sadness.

when paige pulls away, azzi’s lips apart, wearing a hint of shock in her expression. her eyes roam the familiar blue ones that she loves all too much as tension hangs between them.

“please don’t leave tomorrow,” azzi shuts her eyes, dread of paige’s departure now overpowering her thoughts. she leans her head to touch paige’s shoulder, as her hands find their way to the blonde’s waist.

paige leans into the touch of the younger girl, not willing to admit how much she loves the feel of azzi’s hands on her body. “trust me, i don’t want to,” she replies quietly, her pulse racing at their closeness.

“then stay,” azzi attempts a smile, “stay here, with me. stay forever if you want.”

“you know i want to,” paige whispers, her voice thick with raw emotion.

azzi searches paige’s eyes, lost in her bright blue irises. her gaze drops to her lips for a brief moment, before meeting her eyes once more. paige shallows, feeling the tension fuel between them. before the blonde has time to react, azzi leans forward, connecting their lips in a soft, tender kiss. paige kisses her back, soaking up and savoring every second azzi’s lips are on hers.

the kiss dies out when azzi slowly, hesitantly pulls away, regardless of her brain screaming to continue. she takes her grip off paige’s waist, looking down nervously— did she screw everything up?

paige notices azzi’s face, clearly racked with anxiety. “it’s okay, az.” she gives her arm one last squeeze before the two girls crawl back into bed, creating some distance to avoid any further tension.

azzi soon drifts off, sleep overtaking her body after wearing herself out from all her crying. paige, however, lets her mind run free, questioning and worrying if something as little as a kiss they shared has the potential to ruin their friendship. will things change between them?

paige forces her eyes shut, trying to focus her energy on getting some rest. those attempts are useless, though— paige barely gets any sleep that night.

the morning arrives slowly for paige, considering the little amount of sleep she got throughout the night. sunlight creeps through the window, casting a gentle glow in the room. she blinks, adjusting her eyes to the light. realization that today is the day— the day she leaves azzi— sets in, making her breath hitch in her throat.

sitting up, paige glances at azzi, still soundlessly sleeping, her hair tousled in a such a perfect way. for a moment, paige allows herself to savor the sight, the way her best friend looks so serene, completely at ease.

with a heavy heart, paige gently nudges azzi. “hey, sleepyhead,” she whispers, keeping her voice light.

azzi stirs, blinking sleepily at paige. “what time is it?” she mumbles.

“eight in the morning,” paige replies, forcing a smile despite the tightening in her chest. “i have to pack.”

azzi eventually sits up, the remnants of last night’s emotions washing over her. she shifts, feeling the awkward tension arrive in the air. “you’re really leaving, aren’t you?”

“yeah. i wish i didn’t have to,” paige nods, shallowing hard.

azzi bites her lip, a flicker of sadness in her eyes. “me too, p.”

paige lets out a quiet sigh, trying to hold her heart from crushing in her chest.

paige spends the next few minutes silently packing up her duffel, wishing to god for one more day, here— with azzi, her azzi. she stuffs her toiletries into the pockets, alongside the outfits she previously packed. azzi watches, mentally preparing herself to watch her best friend leave, again.

“do you want help?” azzi asks.

paige shakes her head, trying to maintain her focus and continue packing. “no, i’ve got it. thanks though,” she answers.

as paige zips up her bag, the room feels suffocatingly quiet with all the unspoken words around them. “i hate this,” azzi whispers, voice thick. “i really don’t want you to go.”

paige turns to face her, the sight of azzi’s vulnerable side striking a chord deep within her. “neither do i,” she says, stepping closer, “it’s alright— i’ll come back eventually.”

“promise?” azzi’s eyes search paige’s, looking for the reassurance she so desperately needs.

“i promise, az,” paige says firmly, tone full of sincerity.

paige finishes up packing her bag, trying to drag her thoughts from overwhelming her brain completely. katie starts up the car as paige throws her duffel in, reality crashing down on her hard. azzi decides to join her for the car ride to the airport, wanting to stay with paige as long as she possibly can. the two girls climb into the backseat together, the tension in the air palpable.

as they drive towards the airport, the city flashing by, yet paige feels as if the time has slowed. her gaze trails azzi’s figure, who’s staring out the window, lost in thought. “you okay?” paige nudges her softly.

azzi shrugs, “it feels too real now,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.

“i know,” paige sighs, equally as quiet. she reaches for azzi’s hand, giving it a squeeze, capturing everything she wishes she could say.

they arrive at the airport— paige’s stomach curls just looking at the large doors, awaiting her entrance.

katie parks the car and the three step out into the chilling air, not bothering to make discussion. they roam into the airport; the sound of travelers and announcements fill the atmosphere, but all paige can focus on is azzi— azzi, who she’ll be leaving in a matter of minutes.

“let’s get you checked in,” katie suggests.

as they walk towards the terminal area of the airport, paige keeps the brunette closer, grabbing onto her arm to avoid loosing her in the crowd of people.

after successfully checking in, the moments of paige and azzi are limited. paige glances at her, her heart beating faster and faster. “i wish i could take you with me.”

“me too,” azzi whispers, attempting to smile at the blonde.

a couple of minutes pass with paige and azzi remaining close in distance, dreading the announcement of her broading. when it later comes, paige arises from her seat, as does azzi.

paige doesn’t wait to pull her friend into her arms, wrapping them around her frame. azzi clutches onto paige as if she’ll never see her again, squeezing her eyes closed, wishing she could stay like this forever— in paige’s arms, surrounded by her warmth.

they pull back, hands continuing to explore each others bodies in a friendly manner. paige’s blue eyes meet azzi’s brown ones, sharing a look of unspoken affection— fear, love, and an undeniable connection.

“i’ll miss you so much,” azzi reminds her, eyebrows pinching down.

“i’ll miss you more,” paige smiles, ignoring the knot in her stomach. “love you, az.”

azzi’s breath hitches in her throat, “i love you too,” she mutters, leaning in to place a long kiss on her cheek, cupping the back of her head for support.

paige turns, eyes finally tearing away from azzi as she begins walking to her gate. she glances back, finding azzi still watching her leave, looking as sad as she feels. she offers a wave and a small smile, in a way to let her know she’ll be back, when the time is right.

paige immediately pulls out her phone, not waiting a moment to text azzi.

just landed. i miss you already. can’t wait to see you again, she texts.

the response is quick: missing you loads more. facetime when you get home?

the corners of paige’s lips quirk up— obviously, she replies, excitement bubbling through her.

with a smile, paige tucks her phone away, feeling the familiar warmth spread through her. she knows she won’t be seeing azzi for a while— months, maybe more— but she knows their connection, their friendship can withstand the distance between them.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi #uconn wbb #paige x azzi #basketball #uconn huskies #fanfic #fan fiction #best friends #lovers #cuteness

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rosenclaws · 2 days ago

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One More Present || Logan Howlett drabble

summary: Logan has one more present for you

warnings: light smut, STILL MINORS DNI AND 18+ ONLY TY, light bondage lol

wc: 546

a/n: So this is a really stupid drabble I thought it would be funny and so here it is lmao. To all the people who wanted a wolverine under their Christmas tree <3

Christmas with your neighbors was more fun than you've had in a long time. It was also the most you've drank in a while. Wade really went all out with his party and his gifts.

Though you really didn't need the uh, interesting picture calendar he had put together for everyone. You're pretty sure you saw Logan throw his into the fireplace when Wade wasn't looking.

The day after Christmas was spent doing pretty much nothing. Logan had taken refuge in your bed as he normally does since you started dating but he was forced to go back to help the clean up. Waking up without your personal space heater was a lonely experience but he left you his flannel at least.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn't escape going back to work and were trapped at your boring job wishing you could be home with Logan instead. Your phone pinged and you looked to see a text from Logan.

Wade's finally fucking gone.

You laugh as you can picture just how much Wade had gotten on Logan's nerves today.

I'm almost done, I miss you

You text back. Logan accidently hits a few different things before finally thumbs uping your message. He really was an old man with technology sometimes. As the time ticked and you were nearing the end of the day you got one more message.

Found something in our bedroom, I think you have one more present to open.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. You can't remember leaving anything and Logan isn't really one for surprise gifts. He would have given it to you yesterday. As you clocked out you tried to call him but he didn't pick up. Weird.

"Logan?" You call as you step through the door.

"In here!" He calls from the bedroom. You shrug off your coat and drop your bag, expecting to find him lounging on the bed or something.

"Hey what..." Your voice trails off as you walk into the room. Logan was laying in bed for sure, but completely naked.

He's smirking as he sits in his totally naked glory. His abs are on full display, thick thighs, and big arms. You swear he was...shiny? But you weren't complaining.

What really catches your eyes is his fat cock, a big red bow tied around it. The red ribbon trailed up his body and sat at one of his wrists which tied him to the bedframe. His muscles flex as he sits up.

"How did you know this is what I asked Santa for?" You tease as you move over to the bed, admiring your stupidly hot boyfriend. He shrugs, the ribbon straining against his muscles.

"You got one more present sweetheart." He looks down to the bow.

"Want to unwrap it?" You smirk as you slowly strip your clothes.

"Merry Christmas to me." You purr as you climb onto the bed.

He watches with hungry eyes as you take the edge of the bow in your teeth and pull it, freeing his cock. Winking as you lower your head. Logan groans as you take the tip of his cock in your mouth, dancing your tongue just the way he likes it. He tugs on the ribbon and somehow it doesn't rip.

"Hope that ribbon can hold you, because I want to have a little fun tonight."

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader

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deposedefenddeny · 21 hours ago

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Spectator recounts attending Luigi Mangione's arraignment in New York

In about a second after I saw [Luigi Mangione, walked into his arraignment in New York on Dec. 23], all the memes/thirsting/online discoveries about his good character were wiped away as I realized the significance of this young man's LIFE being at stake. I felt so inappropriate to me that I, a random stranger, felt the right to sit in on this arraignment. They walked him in like he was a "spoil of war". The cops are parading him around like a pig on a stick. All of America is obsessing over him, digging up every possible trace of his online presence. And focusing on his appearance and personality instead of the danger he’s in in real life. For example, the sweater from court selling out. This isn’t a thirst trap or a joke, it’s this man’s LIFE! I realized how sick and wrong this all is for me and everyone else there, and all the people obsessing over him online to be a voyeur to this terrible process. I felt like I was contributing to the problem by watching him be "put on display". For example, seeing the way the [mainstream media] wrote about the "dozens of fans who lined up in the early morning, mostly young women" minimizes the point of how unjust this guy's legal process has been. I was nauseous the entire arraignment, and I felt depressed for several days after. I think if I were in his shoes, all of the attention from the public and the online obsession (even though it's supportive) over his personality, looks, and personal history would make me mad uncomfortable. I think the priority should be on supporting him. And some people are saying that digging up all of his online info it could hurt the case. And I think that would be terrible for his fans to end up causing him more injustice. Also, putting up his personal private photos online — including when he was a child— seems really wrong and insensitive to me. Which is why for now I'm going to focus on what people can do to concretely help: writing letters, maybe not sending books (because prisoners only get to take a few into their cells and the rest might be thrown away), calling for healthcare reform, helping with protests, and raising support in a non-creepy way. PS: I would never go back to another hearing. It was horrifying. And I encourage anyone here to not go as well. I don't think it's the right way to help him. I think my perspective is worth sharing as I had a very close view of this in person.

Excerpt of a post by user Theoffice94 on the subreddit FreeLuigi, for which moderators state they had verified that the user attended the arraignment through private communication.

#luigi mangione #united healthcare #uhc #deny defend depose #brian thompson

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nightingale-prompts · 14 hours ago

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"So do you hate each other?" Superman asked watching Danny get into another one man argument as he went back and forth with his other half.

Danny twisted their neck like their head was on a swivel. Their lips twisted into a frown.

"Of course not. We just argue sometimes. We can't hate each other."

"That would be no difference than hating ourselves. We love us."

Yeah, no one could get used to hearing them talk like that. Most of the time you end up talking to one or the other but you have to look closely to tell one from the other.

"You love being a parasite."

"You're so mean to me. I just poured my feelings out. If I did share a body with you I'd be so cold and alone."

"You mean like how we were originally. When I didn't have another voice in my head."

"Yeah, those were the days when I didn't have you around.

One of the problems was that no one knew was the original and neither did they so they could just extract the other.

They considered finding a way to put them into separate bodies but when Batman suggested it the teen ran away. It fook weeks to find him. So now they had the two-spirit under protection.

It has been an interesting experience, to say the least. They go wildly from one extreme to the other. They have different tastes and world views. But still, they insist that they are the same person but not.

Diana called them the representation of the contradiction of human consciousness. Hal called them the ultimate form of self-love. The devil and angel on your shoulders as Superman put it.

Honestly, everyone just has to come up with their own interpretation to deal with Danny.

Robins just call them by Danny and don't try to tell them apart. They somehow just know how to get through to them.

Two Souls-DC x DP prompt

What if turning into a a halfa was not as seamless? What if Danny only got caught halfway and split his soul in half? Now they fight over control of one body.

It's kinda a toxic relationship because the ghost half is more instinctive and feral vs the rational but selfish human side. They are playing a constant tug of war but the thought of being separated from the body scares them.

When the Justice League finds Danny far from home dealing with another internal argument over something petty they believe Danny is possessed they want to get the ghost half out.

Danny panics because that would be no different than taking him apart and they have to stay together.

#dc x dp prompt #dc robin #dc x dp crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp #danny fenton #danny phantom

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rapmonjoon94 · 2 days ago

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How To Train Your Human

Summary: You went into the woods looking for your father, however you ventured too far west and ended up in the territory of the dragons. You thought you'd be incinerated on the spot as tradition states that humans can only enter dragon territory once a year, however it seems your defiance and stubbornness is rewarded when the leader of the dragons takes you under his wing.

Word Count: 18.6K

Paring: Dragon Shifter Namjoon/Reader. Side Jimin/Reader

Rating: 18+/M for Mature

Tags: Porn with plot, shapeshifter dragon Namjoon, angst, mentions of throwing up, slow burn, sexual tension, Taehyung is a little shit, smut, so much smut, size difference, size kink, vaginal fingering, eating pussy, dirty talk, strong powerful Namjoon, hand jobs, dragon joon has a big dick, he can smell when she is aroused, Dom Joon, spanking, nipple sucking, belly bulge, unprotected sex but he does not cum inside (be safe!), happy ending

Authors Note: This whole thing started because my friend told me she just finished reading a fantasy book about a girl who falls for a man who can shape shift into a dragon and well here we are. This is one of those fics where when I reread it I'm in shock at what I wrote because god damn she spicyyyyy. (And probably one of my favorite Namjoon fics I've written)

also very much based on this tumblr post because WOW

as always likes comments and reblogs are appreciated and Thank You for reading!!

-------

“Wait! You can’t! Seriously!” A male voice called to you over the sound of the wind as you hiked your skirts higher to avoid the big puddles left behind by last night’s rain and stomped into the town you had spent so much time avoiding as fury and anger rolled off of you in waves, threatening to evaporate anyone who stands in your path.

“I said leave me alone!” You called back to him, not bothering to look at his handsome face as you marched through town watching the people of Frosthill stare at you in shock.

It isn’t very ladylike to storm through town, hiking your skirts up and yelling at someone but you felt this town had ridiculed you enough to the point where you could act out a bit.

“Please! Just listen!” A warm hand closes around your wrist, and you whirl around to face him, your jaw clenched and your eyes wide. He keeps a strong hold on your arm to hold you back.

“Jimin I have heard enough. There is a person! A human! Missing! And your father sent you to what? Shut me up. Reassure me he is doing everything he can while he sits in his office and does fuck all?” You curse rolling your eyes when an older woman standing a foot away tuts at your choice of language.

Well fuck her too

“You can’t just storm his office. He sent me to reassure you we are doing everything possible to find him.” Jimin says eyes wide, as you rip your wrist from his smothering hold and let out a maniacal laugh

“He has been missing for a week Jimin. I highly doubt it.”

You don’t bother to wait for his rebuttal, instead, you trek on as most of the town is now outside their homes staring at you with a mix of shock and fear.

You delicately stepped over a puddle and continued further into town, whatever spell Jimin was under seemed to break as you could hear him calling for you over the wind as you blatantly ignored him once again and finally made it to the town square.

Families were out for their morning walk and nearly jumped out of the way at the sight of you trampling up to them, face screwed up in anger and jaw clenched tight. Little kids were playing by the fountain and they all whispered behind their hands as you passed, you had a feeling you knew what they were saying, old tales passed down from their parents but you continued to march on.

Leaves swirled around your feet and the wind carried Jimin’s pleas for you to stop and listen but you ignored it all over the blood pounding in your ears as you finally made it to The Governor’s office.

The tall brick building stood out against the rest of them as it was the nicest in the square.

You could feel the townspeople closing in as if this was Saturday morning entertainment, and you tried your best to shake that off as Jimin finally caught up to you and once again grabbed your wrist.

“You’re making a scene. Stop this foolishness.” He commanded in a tone that sounded so much like his father that it made you stop and reevaluate.

But a person was missing.

They had been missing for a week

Doing a job for The Governer who didn’t bother looking for him

A whole new surge of anger swelled inside you and you once again ripped yourself from Jimin’s grasp.

“Who cares if I make a scene? This is what they want isn’t it?” You cry out, loud enough for the surrounding people to hear you

Jimin lowers his eyes.

You bite your lip.

“You know full well why I’m doing this Jimin. It’s been a week. Seven days. We both know what lives beyond the town line where he was sent by The Governor.”

Jimin has nothing to say.

Because of course, he doesn’t

“You know why I have to do this. And if you try to stop me again-”

Your voice lowers so only he can hear, you lean in and take in his musky sweet smell and press your cold lips to the shell of his ear.

“That thing I did a couple of nights ago with you, in the barn… consider it done. Forever.”

Jimin’s eyes widen and a blush coats his cheeks as you give him a wink before climbing up the stairs, leaving him dumbfounded at the bottom before throwing open the doors and heading inside.

The lobby is warm and eases the cold that seemed to soak through your bones on your walk here and when you spot The Governor’s receptionist you can’t help but smirk when you see her horrified look at you standing in the office.

'“Good Morning is The Governor busy?” You ask, keeping your voice sweet as you lean on the desk and the door bangs open behind you.

Jimin.

Great.

“I-Uh-Well- he seems to-uh”

“Perfect I’ll see myself in!” You exclaim not waiting for her to stop blabbering as you push open the door to her right and head into the narrow short hallway that leads to The Governers office.

You can hear Jimin muttering something to her but you pay it no mind as you walk the hallway and Jimin’s right behind you again.

You stand in front of the intimidating oak door and poise your hand to knock when you feel Jimin’s presence behind you.

He doesn’t say anything for once and for that you are thankful as you knock three times and a deep voice tells you to enter.

The office is spacious and filled with dark oak furniture and luxurious chairs that probably cost all the money your family has and when he looks up from the papers on his desk he seems not at all surprised to see you.

One of the townspeople must have tipped him off.

“Ah, Jimin didn’t I tell you to talk to her, not bring her here.” Mr. Park says wearily as he shuffles more papers as if it will make him look important and Jimin fidgets next to you.

“I came here myself. Jimin had nothing to do with it.” You say boldly as you don’t bother to wait for an invitation that won’t come and instead, you take a plush dark green chair by his desk and plop yourself down into it.

If The Governor is scandalized by your behavior he doesn’t show it, Jimin however makes a noise in the back of his throat which you choose to ignore.

“Well, I have a feeling I know why you have stomped through town all the way here but do enlighten me in case I am mistaken.” The Governor says leaning back in his chair and taking off his glasses wiping a hand down his weary face.

“Well, I’d like to report a missing person, though according to your son, you are doing everything in your power to find him. I just wanted to make sure as it has been an entire week since he has left. On your orders, I might add.” You snarled as Jimin seemed to press himself further into the wall behind you and The Governor looked shocked you were so boldly talking to him like that.

“As I’m sure my son stated we are-”

You cut him off.

“Jimin did a great job of filling me in on all the things you are doing but I’d like some results, Governor. You sent my father out to gather mahogany for a town project and he was more than happy to do so even though this town has treated him so poorly. Did you do this on purpose to send him away?” You ask flattening your hands over your skirt to hide how badly they were shaking.

“Send him away? Are you accusing me? We did not do this to send him away. We need that wood to rebuild some furniture items in townspeople’s homes. The beds are falling apart. Children are sleeping on the floor. He is the town’s carpenter and inventor after all! He was the perfect person for the job!” The Governor cries out

You stare at him shifting in your chair and letting your thoughts run wild. He has been missing for seven days. He was supposed to already be back but never came home. He has actually been gone for eleven days but he said the job would only take four days, mahogany only grows in the deepest and thickest parts of the forest, where all types of creatures live.

“Governor you know as well as I do that this job was only supposed to take four days. One to head to the deep woods, two to cut down some trees, and one more to haul the wood back. He has been gone for eleven days in total. You are a smart man. We all know the lore and traditions we uphold. You know what lurks in the deepest parts of the forest where said trees grow. We all know the treaty that was formed over two hundred years ago. Did you send my father to his death? He has been called the town lunatic for quite some time now, inventor turned carpenter after the incident with my mother. It would be easy to send him on an impossible task to get rid of him.” You ponder keeping your voice steady and low as your stomach turns at the possibility of it being true.

The Governor shifts in his seat and shuffles more papers on his desk seemingly worried at what you are accusing him of.

“We do have concerns about him not coming back, the only problem is our best men are currently out in the eastern town dealing with some business. Yoongi and his men won’t be back for another two weeks and we can’t exactly call him back for one missing person.” The Governor admits wiping at his brow as you sink lower in your chair.

Two more weeks?

“I can’t wait that long. We can’t wait that long and you know that!” You cry out.

“I understand the concern but my hands are tied.”

“You have other options. Go into the forest and talk to the dragons. You must have a good rapport with them after sending them offerings for so long!” You beg and The Governor lets out a harsh laugh.

“Visit them? When we only visit once a year? The treaty that was signed said we would not impose on each other’s land except once a year to give each other gifts as a sign of peace. Invading their land just to ask about a missing person is suicide!” He cries out face red

You slump further in your chair hanging your head.

“Listen I’m going to be frank with you here. I want your father to be okay. I do. After what happened with your mother. I know how important he is to you and how he’s all you have. But this town just doesn’t have the manpower. All of my men fit for the job are out with Yoongi. This town is ever growing and changing but we just don’t have the manpower right now. And no woman is fit for the job.” He says with a high laugh as if that thought alone is absurd

“So you are going to have to wait. Sorry, that is my final word.” He says eyes full of sympathy but you don’t dare look into them, you received too many of those looks when your mother passed.

However, his blatant comment about how now the woman is fit for the job sent a new wave of anger and hatred through you. In your eyes, women were just as powerful as men regardless of what The Governor or the townspeople thought. You could easily overpower Jimin if you had to and when you whirled around to see him giving you the same sympathetic look his father was giving you an idea formed in your head.

You stood up and bowed slightly to The Governor.

“I appreciate your words, Governor. Can we make a deal? I will be patient and not bother you again until Yoongi’s men are home if you promise me once they are healed up and ready they will go out looking for my father. I would also like it in writing please.”

The Governor’s eyebrows raised but after sending you a simple nod he drew up the papers and within ten minutes you both had signed and the paper was tucked safely into your small pouch that hung around your waist.

“Thank you for your time Governor.” You say humbly as you once again bow and you hear him tell Jimin to be a gentleman and walk you home.

You snicker as everything falls into plan.

The Autumn sun is weak but still feels nice on your face as Jimin keeps a hand on the small of your back as he takes you out of the village and to your humble little stone house at the very edge of town. He is talking the whole way home but you don’t hear him over all the plans and ideas that are swirling around your head.

Jimin’s hand is warm on your back and you shoot him a grateful smile when your house finally comes into sight.

It’s nothing big or fancy. Just a two-story stone house with a coop and barn in the back surrounded by giant trees of many varieties that seem to always cast the house in its shadow.

Jimin brought you right up to the front of the house hand still on the small of your back as the sun dipped behind a cloud casting everything in darkness for only a moment before reappearing.

“There you go safe and sound,” Jimin says with a small smile on his face as you finally lift your head to stare at him.

“Thank you for walking me home Jimin. Even though I was off the handle earlier I appreciate you looking out for me.” You say smiling shyly.

“I’m always happy to help.” He says looking down at your lips not so subtly and you can’t help but smirk.

'“It is quite chilly out here don’t you think? Want to come inside and get warmed up before you head back.” You offer with a tilt of your head as Jimin nods and you let him into your tiny but cozy home.

You move around lighting candles and getting the fire started as Jimin takes the house in. He had never been inside your house as most of your rendezvous had been in the barn out back amongst the soft hay where no one could see.

If anyone knew he was sleeping with the carpenter's daughter.

He shuddered to think what would happen.

Lucky for him you didn’t seem to mind the secrecy and something about the thrill of being caught seemed to turn you on.

Jimin felt his pants tighten when he thought about that night in the barn. How warm and wet your mouth was, how hot you sounded moaning under him as he breached your wet folds with his cock.

You turned around startling him from his lewd thoughts and when your eyes flicked downwards he knew he had been caught.

Jimin also looked down to see his cock sticking out obscenely from his light-colored pants and he blushed furiously as you smiled softly and walked towards him, gracefully slow like you had done time and time before.

“That must be uncomfortable.” You comment reaching a warmed hand down to cup him through his pants and Jimin hissed at the contact.

“I was just…thinking.” He finished lamely as it seemed all the blood in his body had flooded his cock and left him feeling dumb and slow with his words.

“And what would you be thinking about that got you so excited?” You coo applying more pressure and palming the head in a way that has his cock twitching embarrassingly fast.

“The barn. What we did. In the barn.” He says as his eyes flutter closed and his plush lips part to let out a content sigh when you begin to stroke him through his pants.

“That night was memorable for me too you know.” You whisper, unable to stop yourself from leaning closer to him and nibbling gently on his ear.

Jimin shudders at the combination of your mouth and hand and in an instant he pushes you against the small wooden kitchen table and his lips attack yours in a fiery kiss.

You moan into his mouth and your hands leave his bulge to pull him into your small bedroom.

Hands come to rip at buttons and undo laces and by the time you are both stark naked in front of each other, you begin to go at each other again with a new fever that makes you moan and throw your head back as Jimin’s mouth explores your perky breasts.

You reach down to stroke his hardened cock and you feel how much arousal is dripping out of him as you gather it and slide it down his heated length, flicking your wrist as you get to the head making him twitch in your grasp.

“It was so hot watching you stand up to my father like that. Fuck I was so worried I would get erect when I was in his office,” he admits between kisses as his fingers come down to play with your entrance.

The sun is slipping lower in the sky and you know you have to get a move on.

“Fuck me. Jimin, please. I’m so wet for you!” You cry out when his finger circles your clit in a way that makes you arch up into his touch.

You know Jimin well enough to know he likes it when you beg so he pushes you down on the bed lightly and grabs your legs forcing them open.

You see the lust glinting in his eyes when he lines his cock up to your dripping entrance and when he enters you the moan that leaves your mouth is obscene. You throw your head back to give him a free show as he finally fills you to the hilt and takes in your naked form under his body.

“You are so beautiful. You know that right?” He asks as you nod and begin to fuck yourself down on his cock. Taking him this quick will result in you feeling sore the next day but you knew you had to act fast so you began to fuck yourself against him like a needy animal.

Moans were spilling from both your mouths as he fucked into your harshly. The old bed creaked under your bodies but you both didn’t seem to mind the noise. You arched your back to get him deeper and whined out his name as you felt your high approaching quickly.

“Jimin-gonna-f-fuck.” You cry out as his fingers come down to circle your clit and you tip over the edge crying out his name and cuming hard around his length.

Jimin pulls out of you once you recover and spills his seed all over your naked stomach and chest as you watch in awe how his cock throbs in his fingers and how his seed paints you.

Once spent, Jimin flops down on the bed and you head to the small bathroom to get cleaned up. You don’t bother redressing as Jimin has seen it all before and when you come back to your small bedroom he is still on the bed fighting the urge to sleep.

“That was incredible.” He breathes out as his cheek is smushed into one of your pillows and tiredness seems to take over his body.

“Jimin you seem tired. Rest here before you head back.” You coo as you sit on the bed and rub his back in soothing circles.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose?” He asks, though his eyes do flutter closed.

“You are never imposing. Get some rest.” You say kissing the crown of his head as he falls into a peaceful slumber.

-----

Jimin wakes because he feels cold all over. He lifts his head to take in his surroundings and realizes he is still in your home. He smiles to himself as he takes in your scent still lingering on the pillow and when he turns over he expects to see you there patiently waiting for him to wake up.

What he doesn’t expect is for the bed to be empty.

He sits up and slowly dresses himself before moving from room to room to look for you. Worry rises in his chest when he sees all the candles were extinguished and the fire was put out, it wasn’t even warm anymore which meant it must have been put out ages ago.

He worries that someone took you until he sees a note on the table from you.

Thank you for the dagger.

Jimin pales and runs a hand down his front before realizing he never put back on his scabbard. He took it off in the frenzy and left it on the floor of your room.

He runs back to the bedroom but his weapon is nowhere to be found and he lets out a groan of frustration.

You took his dagger. Why the hell would you take his dagger?

Then it dawns on him, you weren’t making peace with his father after all. You were only complying because you had given up on his father ever helping you. Instead, you used his son to steal a weapon that women were not allowed to have and you were going to traverse the cold woods by yourself. That was why you were so eager to bed him. You needed him to fall asleep so you could steal the weapon while it was still daylight.

Jimin bit his lip. He wasn’t sure what to tell his father. No one would believe you had played dirty and overpowered him to steal his weapon. And he couldn’t exactly walk into his father’s office and tell him he had been off having the most mind-blowing sex with you and his weapon got stolen.

Jimin sighed and left the small cabin, briefly staring at the woods that loomed around your property. Hoping you made it back safe as you were the best fuck he ever had.

-------

The woods behind your house were like a second home to you. The air was crisp with autumn and the leaves crunched under your boots as you grabbed at the scabbard around your chest to make sure it was still there.

You had left Jimin in the little cottage alone and hoped he wouldn’t mind that you had borrowed his weapon, well you guessed he didn’t have a choice as you had left over an hour ago.

The crunching of the leaves was the only sound as you traversed the woods and kept close to the path that had been set out before you by generations of woodcutters.

You were grateful you had the idea to change into your father’s clothes before leaving, as a woman alone in the woods was dangerous.

You passed the mighty pine trees and birch trees, knowing that the trees you were looking for were much deeper in the woods.

The air smelt of campfire and you tried your best to steer clear of that as that meant people, and you didn’t want to run into anyone on this path.

You pulled your cloak hood higher on your head to hide your hair as you walked through the woods, ears prickling at every sound around you as you went deeper and deeper.

The trees seemed more spaced out here and you knew you were getting close as dusk was approaching. Surviving a night in the woods without cover was not an option so you kept your eyes out for a small cave that you could hide in until daybreak.

A noise to your right caused you to jump and place a hand on your heart but it turned out to be a small fluffy rabbit sniffing the ground a foot away.

You continued your trek until you found a small cave that was perfect to spend the night in. Your parents had taught you basic survival so you were able to get a fire started and get a can of beans cooking as you waited out the night.

-------

Once morning arrived you cleared everything, checked once again you had Jimin’s dagger, and ventured off into the world.

The town of Frosthill seemed miles away by now and you wondered if anyone would even notice that you were gone beside Jimin.

You shook your head as you pulled your hood up against the morning air.

Not one single person cared when you were in town so why would they bother to care now?

You hiked for several hours. Vaguely aware of where you were going you followed the narrow dirt path and tried your best not to trip on leaves or roots that stuck up from the ground.

The path became narrower with each passing hour and doubt filled your mind as you wondered if this was even the right way.

The path was so covered by leaves you weren’t sure anymore as you twirled in a circle and took in your surroundings.

If you went too far West you would be in their territory and you shuddered at the thought.

Clouds were starting to roll in and you wondered if you were going to get another autumn storm as you peered up into the sky.

However what was blocking out the sun was not clouds, but two dragons circling the area.

Oh shit.

Their bodies were long and wide as their wings flapped carrying them miles within a single second. You clapped your hand over your mouth to stop from screaming as your eyes scanned the area. You needed a place to hide and now.

You had ventured too far west.

You were on dragon land.

You knew the stories of what happened when a human set foot on Dragonland without permission, usually, they never made it out alive.

The dragons were still circling the area seemingly looking for something and you hurried through the woods in search of a cave or a big bolder, anything to hide you.

As you panicked the dragons above seemed to hover in midair as you ran through the forest in search of a hiding place. Twigs and leaves were crunching under your boots and branches slammed at your arms and face. You tried your best to stay upright as it seemed the very forest you were in was trying to reveal you.

Everyone knew you could not outrun a dragon but you didn’t know what else to do as your heart hammered in your chest and every fiber of your being was begging you to run and hide.

You stumbled across a big rock and hid behind it just as something touched down beside you. The scream you let out seemed to echo through the trees as you clapped a hand over your mouth and stood in shock as a dragon landed beside you.

You had never met a dragon before, only heard the stories, so being this close to one was frightening.

It was a big black dragon but you could see gold flecks in his scales as he stared at you. His eyes were narrowed and curious as you stood as still as you could, hoping somehow he couldn’t see you.

Another thump had your chest heaving as you backed yourself into the cold mossy rock as the other dragon touched down on your other side.

This dragon was much bigger and instead of having golden-flecked scales this one’s scales seemed to shimmer a bright iridescent pink and you forced yourself to breathe and not pass out.

The dragons had you blocked in on both sides and you cursed yourself for not heading toward a body of water. Sure maybe you would have frozen to death but it would have masked your scent and made it harder for them to find you.

Bile rose in your throat but you fought to swallow it down as the dragons seemed to stare at each other unsure of what to do.

If they were going to kill you for stepping on their land could they at least get it over with instead of leaving you here frozen in fear as you try your best not to throw up on yourself?

The dragons finally seem to agree as one of them gives the other a slight nod before launching itself into the sky making your hood fly off your head

The other dragon wastes no time and uses its claws to hold you firm before launching itself into the sky after the bigger one.

Your scream gets swallowed by the wind as the dragon follows the other and they take you miles away from where you were just standing. Tears stain your cheeks as the wind whips around.

The journey is short and when you see land coming into view you once again swallow down the bile rising as trees of red and yellow and brilliant orange come closer.

The dragons start to descend and you close your eyes as they seem to nosedive back down to earth.

The dragon that is holding you lets go right before they hit the ground causing to you stumble and hit the mossy earth hard as they touch down gracefully ten feet away.

A harsh pain shoots through your shoulder at the landing as anxiety is gripping you tight, keeping you sprawled out on the forest floor as you breathe in the scent of moss and earth and your senses seem to come back slowly one at a time.

You hear huffs and grunts and bravely lift your head to see the dragons eyeing each other and communicating.

Their sharp eyes flick to yours and for a moment you wonder if it would be best to play dead but you know the scent of your sweat from nerves would give it away, so instead you stay down on the ground and await for what comes next.

The ground shakes and the earth seems to uproot as something much larger and scarier comes into view.

A grand dragon, like nothing you had ever seen before touches down in front of you. This dragon was huge with tar-black scales and wings that were so wide they took up most of the clearing. The dragon’s eyes were pure gold as was his belly. His wings were a mixture of gold and black giving off a sense of importance as he lifted his head and sniffed the air.

He must be the head of the dragons and you knew you were in trouble.

You dipped your head low and prayed under your breath that someone would come to save you when the two dragons that brought you here let out a series of snaps and growls, clearly informing their leader what had happened.

You stayed close to the ground shivering in fear as the leader let out a low warning growl and both the dragons that found you shot into the sky and left you alone with the biggest dragon.

You were visibly shaking, your dagger bit into your chest as you stayed flat on the ground. You didn’t dare make the first move as you felt the dragon sniff the air again and then with a flash he grabbed you in his large talons and dragged you off.

You covered your mouth to stop your scream as he dragged you further into the woods, knocking over trees and storming over land as he found a cave suitable and threw you inside.

Your body hit the earth hard and you moaned in pain as you rolled in a ball and waited for death to take you.

Instead, however, you noticed an eerie silence as the dragon seemed to be doing nothing at all. Your heart hammered in your chest as if it was fighting to stay alive and you steeled yourself before lifting your head.

Gone was the dragon and in its place was a man.

You gasped and shakily stood up bracing yourself on the wall of the cave as you took him in.

He was tall, a lot taller than you with dark hair that fell into his sharp dragon-like eyes which were now a deep brown color instead of gold. His lips were full and his jawline was sharp. He was wearing a simple black outfit that kept most of his body covered but you could tell by his silhouette he was fit.

He procured a black cape and tossed it your way without looking at you. Instead, his eyes were on the sky above as if he were waiting for something. You felt the material under your hands. It was silky but the inside was made of fur and would keep you warm as you held it in your hands you looked up at him with utter confusion.

“Put it on.” He demanded in a gruff tone as you followed his orders and threw it over your shoulders. It smelt manly and spicy and something carnal swirled inside of you.

“What? What’s going on?” You asked as your legs finally gave way and you sunk to the ground. You didn’t wait for his reply and instead, you crawled to the corner of the cave and got sick against the wall.

The man waited patiently for you to finish and when you wiped your mouth and turned around he was still staring at you with those eyes you were sure could see right through to your very soul.

He radiated power and authority and you felt embarassment creep up as you just got sick in front of him.

“What-where? What happened where’s the dragon?’ You asked feeling silly as you slumped against the cold and damp cave wall and you wiped your brow eyeing him standing there.

“How do you suppose we interact with you humans during the yearly offerings? You think your kind can speak dragon. Please.” He scoffs as if your question offends him and you draw the cloak he gave you closer around your body to ward off the chill.

He must sense your distress because he leaves the cave for a moment and returns with firewood. He plops it on the ground in front of you and turns on his heel transforming himself into the big dragon he was once. You push your back against the wall in fright but all he does is blow a small fireball at the fire to light it, then with another turn he turns himself back into the handsome man that was standing before you moments ago.

Your head is swimming with questions and your mouth feels like it has been filled with cotton as you sit by the fire and take it the warmth.

You sit in silence for quite some time until he interrupts your racing thoughts.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions as do I. I have to go out on patrol and will come back and we will talk. You stay here.” He says in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

“That cloak has my scent so no other dragon in the area will come after you while you are wearing it. If you think of leaving it is your choice but I do warn you it's better to stay where you are for the time being.”

He turns his broad back to you and before you know it he is out of the cave and transforming into his scaly self again before he launches himself into the sky.

You don’t know what to think or how to even begin to process what just happened as exhaustion takes over your weary body and you curl yourself in a ball under his cloak and fall asleep.

-------

The smell of food is what wakes you and you lift your head to see darkness has fallen and he is back with two other humans you don’t recognize.

One is just as tall as his leader with a shock of pink hair and is poking at something on the fire. The other is shorter but still very muscular with dark black hair that gives him a boyish look, you notice his hair is flecked with gold as realization dawns on you.

The two dragons that brought you here were now in human form.

You slowly sit up as the leader’s eyes snap to yours over the fire and you stare at him sheepishly not sure what to say.

“Well, good morning sunshine.” Comes the pink-haired man’s voice as he pokes at the fire again. The one with the gold-flecked hair shoots you a soft reassuring smile and you feel yourself soften.

“Namjoon said you humans get hungry often and he can’t cook for shit so he had us cook some stuff for you so you don’t starve.” The pink-haired one says cheerfully as you inch closer to the fire and take in the rabbit that is laid over it.

You hope it’s not the rabbit that startled you earlier but you realize you can’t be picky in what you eat so you nod slowly at the men sitting before you and draw the leader’s cloak tighter around you.

Namjoon.

The name suited him.

“The way you were dressed, we thought. We thought you were a lost woodcutter. If we knew you were a woman. Well, it’s still good we snatched you up.” The pink-haired one said as he poked at the rabbit again.

“Is it?” You ask timidly as Namjoon stares at you causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“Yes. You are much safer here than wandering lost through the woods. How did a woman end up in the woods so off the path anyway?” Namjoon asks with a tilt of his head.

The two other humans look at you and you feel anger bubble inside of you.

“What is the big deal if a woman is lost in the woods? I’m not some helpless thing that accidentally wandered in and got lost on the trail. I kept myself alive just fine before you showed up!” You retorted crossing your arms over your chest.

“You misunderstand me,” Namjoon says calmly not at all bothered by your outburst.

“Women of our kind are…strong and capable. We do not look down on them or lock them away as your kind does. What I mean is how did you get so lost in the woods and what were you doing in the woods anyway.”

The pink-haired man rotates the rabbit on the fire as the gold-flecked one sits closer to you as if you are about to tell a thrilling tale.

“I was looking for my father. He got lost in the woods seven days ago. He was cutting down mahogany trees for the town to repair some furniture. I went to The Governor to send out a search party but unfortunately, The Governor is useless so I took matters into my own hands. I didn’t mean to wander into your territory that was a mistake.” You say.

“Foods done.” The pink-haired one says lowly as he takes it off the fire and begins to cut the meat up offering it to you first on a small piece of wood.

“Where are you from?” Namjoon asks as he refuses the food served to him but the other two dig in with fervor.

“Frosthill.” You reply as you slowly bring the food to your lips not able to deny your hunger any longer as you slowly and carefully eat.

The gold-haired man snickers and Namjoon rolls his eyes.

“Yes, we have noticed that Governor Park is useless. Always so twitchy around us.” He admits with an alluring smirk as he throws more kindling on the fire to keep the flame alive.

“So you wandered into the woods, taking a dagger that you so obviously stole to look for your father?” Namjoon asks after you finish swallowing your food.

You nod.

“That’s very admirable of you.” He says thoughtfully as you continue to eat and try to hide the pride that is glowing in your chest.

“After you eat you will sleep and we will take you back to town tomorrow.” He says after a beat of silence.

“I can’t leave!” You argue as you place your food aside and stare at him in shock.

“These woods are dangerous surely you can’t stay.” He argues back

“The Governor said it will take weeks for Yoongi and his men to return from the east. It would be over a month since my father disappeared. He’s my last living family member. I’m not leaving! I won’t leave until I find him!” You demand standing up.

The other two seemed to shrink back against the wall and you wondered if anyone ever argued with Namjoon before as the two of them seemed frozen in shock at your words.

“You are leaving by daybreak and that is final. We can’t have a human running through our woods something could happen.” He says now standing up to match you, even though he was a head taller you still stared him down with the intensity of a hundred flames.

“You might be their leader but you aren’t mine Namjoon. And I’m not leaving without my father. So either I find him or you and your dragon pack do.” You threaten as you hear a gruff growl in Namjoons throat and you can almost feel the palpable anger roll off of his body.

“Pst we aren’t a pack. We are a flight. Just saying.” The pink-haired one says as Namjoon snaps.

“Seokjin. Jungkook. Out. Go patrol the southern border. Do not come back until you are told.”

The two scramble to follow their leader’s orders as they bid silent goodbyes and leave the cave, moments later they take to the sky leaving you alone with the angry leader.

“I’m not leaving without my father.” You reiterate as you cross your arms over your chest and stare him down, feeling anger and frustration bubble up inside of your chest.

Getting captured by dragons: big mistake.

Arguing with a dragon: even bigger mistake

“You are the most stubborn human I have met.” He says lowly as you smirk proudly at him over the fire.

“What? Are other humans too scared of you to fight back?” You taunt as he moves gracefully from his spot across the fire until he is right in front of you.

His musky scent fills your nose and before you know it he pushes you back until you are backed against the cave wall. His hands are on either side of your head keeping you locked in and when you stare up into those sharp eyes they are now slowly turning gold as a rumble is emitting from his chest.

“I may not be your leader but if you want to stay alive you have to do as I say. It is not safe for you here. You veered too far past the line and are deep in dragon territory. If Seokjin didn’t smell the fear on you… if Jungkook had not grabbed you-” He shook his head unable to complete his sentence.

“Then find my father and get me out of here. If you try to remove me by force I will just wander into these woods again. I’m not leaving without him.” You say sharply as you stare up into those eyes that are now pure gold.

“You dare test me human?” He asks voice laced with danger as he moves in closer and you feel the hair on your arms rise.

“You dare sit back and do nothing?” You taunt unable to stop the words from tumbling from your mouth.

“You are in my secluded cave, my dragons made you a meal and you are wearing my cloak and you dare argue with me?” He asks again as his lips ghost over your jaw and despite yourself, you arch into his touch as your nipples brush against his broad chest.

The air crackles with tension and you feel arousal pool between your legs as you stare at him, neither of you willing to back down and instead are locked in a stare-off. He huffs deep in his chest and you cock an eyebrow almost daring him to come closer.

“I’m not leaving without my father.” You say to him again, clenching your jaw as he moves in even closer, bathing you in his scent and pinning you against the wall.

His scent fills your nose and you can feel his breath come out in small puffs as his hand curls into the wall beside your head bringing some of the loose limestone down on your shoulders. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest and your eyes flick down to his plush lips.

He once again growls low but this time it almost comes out as a whimper and your eyes flick back up to his as he continues to stare at you with an eyebrow cocked and his jaw clenching.

You won’t back down. You have learned enough times that most people saw you as a helpless woman. You felt as if backing down would solidify that so you stood your ground as you puffed out your chest to match his didn’t break eye contact.

Electricity crackled throughout the cave and you pushed yourself even closer trying to intimidate him but instead, you could feel the swell of his hard cock pressing into your stomach. He was achingly hard against you and when you pressed further you could hear a strangled groan leave his lips as his eyes fluttered closed. You let out a gasp and Namjoon pulled away backing down as you stayed plastered against the wall breathing heavily.

If what you felt was what you thought you felt this man was fucking huge.

And you were rilling him up in more ways than one.

Before either of you could speak another human entered the cave and waved his hand in the air as if warding off some smell.

“Fucking hell Namjoon the pheromones in here could kill a person.” He jokes but stops short when he sees you plastered against the wall breathing heavily.

“So the rumors are true?” He asks as his dark fluffy hair falls into his eyes and a mischievous grin paints his lips.

“Get out of here Taehyung we are leaving.” He demands as Taehyung eyes you curiously.

“Well sorry to break up this steamy moment but there is trouble in the south that you need to come attend to.” He says smoothly as Namjoon runs a hand down his face.

You feel a blush coat your cheeks and you try your best to hide how aroused you feel as you break his stare and instead look at your feet.

“That’s why we are leaving. Let’s go.” Namjoon barks as he grabs Taehyung by the scruff of his neck and throws him from the cave.

“Stay here. We will discuss finding your father when I get back. Keep that cloak on.” He barks as you nod and he disappears out of the cave you can hear his wings flapping as he shoots himself into the sky.

-------

When you wake up it is already daybreak and Namjoon is sitting by the fire alone poking at it seemingly lost in thought.

The events of yesterday play over in your mind and you feel yourself clenching your thighs as you fight back the urge to run over to him and sit on his lap, hoping to feel his hard cock all over again.

Something about him, his stature, his power, the way he had you pinned against the wall, how his breath fanned over your face had you aching for him a way you had not ached for anybody in ages.

“I know you are awake, I can smell you from here.” He growls as you sit up abruptly and close your legs.

“You can….smell me?” You ask pulling the cloak around your shoulders and feeling embarassment creep up.

“Of course. How do you think you were found? Seokjin smelt your fear.” He says matter of factly and you hide your face in shame.

So Namjoon could smell how aroused you were yesterday.

Well, that’s just great.

“I knew you could smell things like that. I just- Is that why you got hard yesterday? You could smell me.” You asked feeling bold as Namjoon’s lips drew into a dangerous smirk.

“I talked to some of my best and most trusted Dragons and they will be out patrolling looking for your father.” He says ignoring your previous question as you inch closer to the fire and bathe in the warmth.

“Hoseok will be here soon to feed you,” Namjoon reports not making eye contact with you.

“You can’t do it?” You prod as you look out at the cave entrance at the sunny day and long to be out in the sunshine.

“I’m a leader for a reason. I have skills that others don’t and vice versa.” He says teeth biting down into his lip.

Before you can respond a man enters the cave with a rabbit flung over his shoulder and he is the least dragon-like you have ever met.

Though this whole meeting dragons thing was still new to you.

He was tall and built but smiled like a million suns as he greeted you. He was friendly and kind as he got to work prepping the meat and placing it on the fire to cook. He had a million questions for you all of which you were happy to answer as Namjoon sat brooding and didn’t say a word.

The air was soon filled with the smell of cooked meat and Hoseok plated some up for you and offered some to Namjoon who politely declined and you wondered if he was going to eat at all.

Lucky for you, Hoseok kept the conversation alive as you ate, and when he bid you farewell, you missed him instantly.

“So now what?” You ask Namjoon as you wrap the cloak around your body and sigh contently.

“It depends…will you listen to me and follow directions?” He asks boldly cocking an eyebrow as he stands up from the cold earth and wipes his palms on his pants.

“Depends on what you’re asking.” You say following his lead and standing up.

He seems to stand there in quiet contemplation as you cross your arms over your chest and wait.

His eyes flick to yours briefly before shaking his head as if he is clearing it.

“Sorry Jungkook won’t stop whining about his duties today and I have to hear all about it. I’m usually better at blocking him out.” Namjoon explains as he extinguishes the fire and runs a hand through his messy hair.

“You can….communicate? Without him being here?” You ask.

“Yes, we can communicate through our thoughts if we so choose. That’s how I knew where to meet Seokjin and Jungkook when they grabbed you. They warned me a human was in the forest.” He explained calmly.

“That’s so cool. But I also feel like it would be annoying at times. I like having my thoughts to myself.” You say brushing your hands down your body to get rid of any dirt from spending the night sleeping on the floor.

“Yes, it can be taxing at times. Taehyung for instance wouldn’t fucking leave me alone yesterday even though I asked him several times to stay away.” Namjoon grits out as a low growl leaves his chest and you can’t help the blush that coats your cheeks.

“He was in your head….when we were….”

“I told him I was in the middle of something.” Namjoon grits out, his annoyance obvious which causes you to giggle.

“Well just because we were interrupted doesn’t mean we can’t continue.” You implore as Namjoon shakes his head with a smile tugging at his lips.

“If you are willing to follow my instructions I was thinking I could take you to where the mahogany trees grow and we could look for your father. It is far so you would have to ride on my back.” He says ignoring your previous comment.

“Wait hold on. You said you could smell when….. so Taehyung could… ohmygod!” You cry out not listening to what he said as your mind reeled with what happened yesterday.

Namjoon chuckled darkly as you covered your face in embarassment,

“Still on that, I see. Yes, Taehyung could smell you. Between the two of us, we stunk up the whole cave with that.” Namjoon said as you finally removed your hands and could see a faint blush coating his cheeks as well.

You didn’t know Namjoon for long, but something about this big scary leader of Dragons blushing before you was quite charming.

“I’m so embarrassed oh my god this is awful I should apologize to Taehyung.” You fret as you begin to pace the cave.

Namjoon just laughs which causes you to stop in your tracks to stare at him.

“Believe me the last thing you need to do is apologize to him. The amount of times I’ve walked in on him in the same position. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” Namjoon reassures as you let out a small relieved sigh.

“So as I was saying before you got distracted I was thinking I would take you to where the mahogany trees grow and we can search the grounds for your father.” He continues

“How would we get there though?” You ask.

“You would have to follow my instructions no matter what so we can get there safely.”

Your thoughts run wild as you ponder the idea. It was very nice of Namjoon to offer to do this for you, especially after yesterday’s difiance and you give him a curt nod as he smiles, showing you two dimples you had never seen before. Then again you didn’t think you ever saw him smile until now.

“How does one ride a dragon though?” You ask

Namjoon stares at you

You stare back and the realization of what you said dawns on you.

“I mean-I- for travel.” You stammer as you feel your cheeks heat and Namjoon once again blushing wildly.

“If you trust me I would take you on my back, probably a lot better than me holding you like Jungkook did,” Namjoon replies as you fasten his cloak tighter and try to ignore the images in your mind of you riding him a much different way.

“If you see another dragon hide yourself against my back. We don’t want others to see you. Humans are not supposed to ride dragons and haven’t for years. You must stay hidden. You must not be seen.”

He turns his broad back to you and exits the cave turning into a dragon. You slowly and carefully mount his back, which almost feels like climbing a mountain with how large and wide he is.

Once you get yourself comfortable you give him a playful pat and Namjoon rockets himself into the sky as you hold on for dear life.

The sun is warm on your skin but you can hardly feel it over the rush of the wind as it takes you higher and higher into the clouds. The air is dense up here but he doesn’t keep you here for long as he dips back down towards the trees and finally levels out taking you away from the cave and towards your small town.

The ride is short and lucky for you no other dragons seem to be nearby as Namjoon circles a clearing before touching down and letting you gently climb off his back.

He extends his great gold wings to stretch them out before turning into a human and standing up.

The clearing is still full of mahogany trees but you do notice some of them had been cut down.

Namjoon lets you take your time surveying the area but stays close to you in case. His presence makes you feel safer as you walk quite a ways but find no sign of your father anywhere.

“Nothing?” He asks softly after an hour of looking and you shake your head, tears spilling hot and fast down your cheeks.

Namjoon pulls you in for a side hug and wraps his arm around you letting you cry into his shoulder. The dragon part of him is reminding him he has better things to worry about than the affairs of this human whom he had only met, but the human part of him aches at the loss.

Namjoon lets you cry as much as you need to, holding you steady against him and protecting you from the wind.

Once you calm down you wipe your nose on your sleeve and push your hair back from your face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to cry all over you like that.” You mutter as you wipe your tears away as quickly as they come.

“It’s okay I don’t mind.” Namjoon comforts you as he keeps you tucked against him.

“I really don’t want to leave without him. I can’t leave without him.” You whimper unable to hold back as more tears fall.

“We can keep searching. You can stay for longer but…”

His question lingers in the air.

“Isn’t there someone at home missing you? Or looking for you too?” Namjoon asks you.

You let out a bitter laugh and shake your head.

“My father is the only family I have left. He…was an inventor and one day something went wrong with one of his inventions and it ended up killing my mother.” You squeezed your eyes shut at the painful memory.

“He gave up inventing and instead became a humble carpenter. I almost wonder if The Governor sent him in here to die. The whole town thinks we are strange and we have been outcasts ever since. I doubt anyone in the town even misses me. Well maybe except Jimin, but he’s just in it for a quick fuck.” You say with a bitter laugh as Namjoon seems to stiffen beside you.

“You are having sex with The Governor’s son?” Namjoon quips with an eyebrow raised.

“Not often. Just. Whenever we feel like it. I- I don’t have to explain this to you.” You say feeling suddenly shy as you pull away from his embrace embarrassed at yourself for opening up to him like that.

“You don’t have to explain yourself I just-”

“What!” You shot out unable to stop yourself.

“You thought I’d sit at home and wait for the perfect man to sweep me off my feet. Me?! An outcast after what happened. The poor girl who had to take care of her father after he blew up her mother. Do you think anyone wants that? Wants this?” You cry out unable to look at Namjoon as you yell into the empty forest.

Namjoon is patient and lets you rant but his heart aches for you. He doesn’t know the extent of what you have been through but he knows that you have all this pain inside as you keep yelling and ranting, pacing the forest floor.

Just as you are losing steam Namjoon runs towards you and pushes you against a tree, his palm warm against your mouth as he holds you steady and quiet.

You cry out in shock and anger as his eyes sweep behind you, keeping you steady behind the tree.

“Shush. Someone is here.” He growls low, cutting off your protests as you can hear the crunching of leaves, someone is walking nearby.

“We are on human land we have to go. I’m going to let you go, you will climb on my back and we will get the fuck out of here. Understood.” He demands eyes glowing gold as you nod and Namjoon lets you go.

You see him transform and nearly let out a scream as you see an arrow fly through the woods and hit a nearby tree.

You don’t stop to look back as Namjoon extends a wing to hide you and before you can climb onto his back he grabs you in his talons and launches himself from the ground.

The air whips your hair around and the only sounds you can hear are the wind whistling in your ears and the sounds of Namjoon’s mighty wings carrying you away.

-------

The news comes while you are asleep.

Namjoon is in the cave and keeps the fire going to keep you warm when Seokjin touches down outside.

Once inside the cave, he is back in his human form and drops more food for you on the cave floor as he takes in your sleeping form, wrapped up in Namjoon’s cloak and snoring softly.

“We have things to talk about Namjoon,” Seokjin says softly not wanting to wake you as he plops down beside Namjoon eyes wide with worry.

“Aren’t I the leader here?” Namjoon grumbles but he still turns to face Seokjin as you let out a soft snore.

“Yes, but what you did today was wreckless and could have gotten you killed. Then who would be our leader? Jungkook is beside himself thinking he could have lost you.” Seokjin says as Namjoon averts his eyes.

“Going on human land to look for her father. Are you out of your mind? You could have flown over but no you had to touch down and transform on human land too. Yoongi is too good with a weapon Namjoon.”

“It wasn’t Yoongi. He’s still east according to reports.” Namjoon responds still poking at the fire.

“Well, whoever it was they have good aim from what I hear. Sure we could overpower a human if we had to but you were on their land. If they killed you it would have been justified. You were way over the border.” Seokjin reminds him as Namjoon lets out a weary sigh.

He knew it was dangerous. He knew it was stupid but he thought bringing you there would give you a little bit of hope. Maybe gets you to trust the dragons more. Trust him more. He was looking for your father. He had his best men on it but instead of giving you hope he feels he made it worse.

You hardly said anything when he got you back to the cave, instead, you curled into a ball and fell asleep almost immediately.

Namjoon didn’t like that you didn’t say anything to him.

And he liked it even less that you had another man touching you, fucking you.

Before Seokjin could scold him more Namjoon cut him off.

“I know I know. It was dumb. A mistake. I’ll make it up to Jungkook later. Now have you come here to scold me or is there news?” Namjoon asks as his sharp eyes don’t leave your sleeping form.

Seokjin figures it’s best not to argue with the leader so he gets to work cooking food on the fire, hype aware of how Namjoon stares at the human.

“We found her father,” Seokjin says softly as Namjoon’s eyes snap to his.

“When? Where?” Namjoon asks as Seokjin bites his lip and continues to prep the food.

“Well, you have to promise not to be mad.” Seokjin starts as Namjoon lets loose a low warning growl.

A sentence like that can never be good.

“Taehyung…he… he went to her town and found her house. Her father somehow wandered home unscathed.” Seokjin says timidly as Namjoon feels heat rise throughout his body.

“You’re telling me. Taehyung. Went into her town. As a human?” Namjoon growls low as Seokjin seems to shrink under his leader’s heated gaze.

“Hoseok and I already gave him an earful but yes he did. No one knows who he is anyway as he is the newest of us but yeah. He did.” Seokjin says still timid as he pokes at the fire not wanting to see Namjoon's wrath.

“You came in here scolding me for being on human land but Taehyung walks right into her town?! Is he insane?” Namjoon hisses trying to keep his voice low so you can sleep.

“Well you can scold Taehyung but you're the leader….who’s going to scold you? Someone had to do it and I drew the short straw.”

Namjoon ran a tired hand down his face.

“Well he’s going to get the scolding of his life but…I’m glad her father is safe.” Namjoon finishes as the cave is filled with the sizzle of fish cooking.

“Are you?” Seokjin asks eyebrow quirked as Namjoon stills.

“Of course I am.” He retorted as you shifted in your sleep.

“We all have noticed you have grown fond of the human. Are you going to be able to let her go?” Seokjin asks as you stir more and Namjoon knows it’s only moments before you will wake.

“I have to. I have no choice.”

The news gets broken to you after you eat.

Both Seokjin and Namjoon decide to wait until you are finished at the fear of you choking when they tell you your father is safe at home.

“So what happened?!” You ask, shock apparent on your face as Seokjin recalls how Taehyung walked into your town and found your house, finding your father safe and sound but terribly worried about you.

“Now I really should apologize to Taehyung after what he walked in on.” You mutter as Seokjin lifts a brow and his eyes flit to Namjoon who is suddenly very interested in the cave wall.

“There are still a couple of hours of daylight left if you wish us to take you to him. You just have to promise if anyone asks about Taehyung you pretend you have no idea. Also maybe just tell them you got lost in the woods. We don’t want to bring trouble to our kind because we took you in. Taehyung has brought enough trouble by going into town.” Seokjin explained with a shake of his head but a small smile on his lips.

He seemed just as excited as you that your father was safe.

Namjoon however stayed stoic and silent as he stared at the cave walls, occasionally looking at you.

“Well, I have a patrol to do. Namjoon can take you back.” Seokjin explains as he stands up and you follow suit.

You wrap him in a warm hug and thank him for everything and Seokjin returns the hug but his eyes are locked on Namjoon who is now staring with a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“Please thank Jungkook and Hoseok for me. Oh and tell Taehyung I’m sorry he had to walk in on…yeah.” You finish pulling away and blushing to match Namjoon’s blush.

Interesting.

“What exactly did he walk in on? Just so I know what to say?” Seokjin teases as Namjoon stands up quickly and barks at Seokjin to get a move on.

Seokjin waves over his shoulder and leaves you alone with Namjoon who looks anything but pleased.

“We should go.” He says softly as he puts out the fire and his cold attitude matches the cold of the room as he leaves and transforms into his dragon self outside.

You slowly look around the cave once more before leaving and slowly climbing on Namjoon’s back. He lets out a small huff and shoots himself into the sky.

Your thoughts are a tangled web as the world around you suddenly doesn’t seem as interesting as it did before.

You were glad that your father was safe. You were glad that he was home which also meant you could come home. You’d have to find a way to return Jimin’s dagger to him without raising suspicion but the thought of seeing Jimin again made you feel queasy.

Not because of Jimin himself but because of what you told Namjoon.

Also Namjoon in general.

The way he looked at you, the way he pinned you against the cave wall. You knew something was simmering below the surface and as glad as you were that your father was back, you also wished you had more time to explore it.

You opened your heart to him and didn’t have time to let him open his. You didn’t feel ready to go back to your old life, something about Namjoon drew you in, made you feel powerful, made you feel alive.

Before you could even begin to untangle these thoughts you felt him descending on the very edge of the forest and you held your breath as your stomach swooped.

Namjoon touched down gracefully for being so large and you carefully climbed off his back before he could transform into a human.

You didn’t know what to say, how to thank him, how to say goodbye but it seemed he didn’t give you the chance because as you were about to open your mouth he let out a small huff and shot up into the sky, leaving you standing in the clearing alone.

Well.

That was that then.

-------

The days turned into weeks and everything slowly turned back to normal.

The reunion with your father was sweet as he swept you into his arms and told you how he got lost in the woods for several days only living off berries until he eventually stumbled back.

You told a similar tale, keeping your promise to Seokjin and leaving out the parts about the dragons as you settled back into your life.

Two days after your return you ran into Jimin in town as you were buying bread. You whispered for him to meet you in the barn around nightfall.

However, you didn’t meet him but you left his dagger on the hay pile where you usually fucked.

Jimin wouldn’t look at you after that, instead shooting you dirty looks whenever he could but you didn’t mind. You didn’t miss him much anyway.

The winter chill came hard and fast this year coating everything in snow as you trekked through town to continue to grab supplies for your small cottage.

The air was bitingly cold and you held your hood firmly over your head to ward off the chill as you completed your errands.

Jimin was in the blacksmiths as you passed and you held your head high, only to be met with the ding of the bell and his boots crunching through the snow next to you.

“So that’s it then? You steal my dagger and just throw it on the hay pile to be found by me? Can’t even talk to me anymore.” He hisses as you stop in your tracks and face him.

“My father was gone for ages and your father did nothing to help him. My father just got back… so sorry I want to spend time with him instead of letting you get your dick wet.” You snarl under your breath as Jimin steps back in shock.

“I covered for you when you stole my dagger and this is how you repay me?” He says anger seeping through his voice as your breaths mingle in the cold air.

“How exactly did you cover for me? You had sex with me and fell asleep and I stole your dagger. What were you going to tell your father when he asked? Surely you weren’t going to tell him you were with me.”

“I pretended I lost it to save you!” He blurts out.

“Save me or save yourself? I know you are ashamed to be with me Jimin. I know you see me how the rest of the town does though you won't admit it.” You say calmly.

Jimin stares at you, his beautiful face painted in anger.

“Were done. This. This is done.” he scowls pushing past you to storm down the street.

But you had already known it was done.

It was done the day you first laid eyes on Namjoon.

You let your thoughts drift back to him as you make your way out of town to your small cottage struggling under the weight of the bags and the fresh fallen snow.

It still stung that Namjoon never bothered to say goodbye and you almost wonder if he is even thinking about you too.

You haven’t forgotten the tension in the cave, how hard and needy he felt against you as he pushed you against the wall. How often those sharp eyes would land on you making you squirm.

Before you know it you are at your front door. You try to clear the thoughts of Namjoon from your mind but you know no matter how hard you try you will never meet a man like him in your entire life.

-------

A month had gone by since you had seen Namjoon. A whole month of sitting in the cottage and yearning for him and letting your thoughts be consumed by him.

Your father knew something was up and asked multiple times what happened in the woods but you reiterated the same story over and over until he had given up.

One cold frosty morning you were tending to the chickens when you saw something flutter out of the corner of your eye.

You finished collecting the eggs and when you turned it was still there.

A black cloak fluttering on a tree branch a couple of feet from your coop. You knew that cloak, you would recognize it anywhere and you nearly dropped the eggs when the wind grabbed it, revealing the fur lining.

Namjoon was here, somewhere. Or had been here.

He dropped it off for you.

He was thinking about you too.

You slowly placed the basket of eggs on the ground and walked over the cloak, your hand slightly shaking.

When your hand wrapped around the soft material you couldn’t help but let your eyes close as all the memories replayed in your mind. The cloak smelt of him and your head spun when you wrapped it around your shoulders, taking you right back to that cave, right back to him hard and needy against you.

Your thoughts were broken by church bells echoing across town and out to your little home as you quickly grabbed the eggs and headed inside still wearing the cloak.

Your father had questions of course but you lied and said one of the townspeople must have lost it and you would do your due diligence to return it tomorrow.

He seemed pleased with that response and you hated lying to him but was it really lying if you were going to return it to the dragon it belonged to?

-------

The forest was a lot different in just a couple of months, and every step you took deeper into it reminded you of that.

The trees were bare as the winter chill had stripped them down to only their branches. Most of the leaves had been cleared away leaving you walking through deep snow, hiking up your father’s clothes once again as you wandered in.

Even without having Jimin’s weapon, you didn’t feel afraid.

Namjoon had told you once that he could smell everything on you

From fear to sweat to….arousal.

You knew it was only a matter of time before he found you again.

The woods grew dense and the snow was starting to freeze your toes in your boots as you carried on.

The sun was weak today casting everything in a somber light as you held onto a tree for support and caught your breath.

Even if somehow he couldn’t smell you, you did have the protection of wearing his cloak and that gave you the strength to carry on.

An hour in the snow was still deep and you were having a hard time traversing it. The cloak kept you warm and safe and the trees provided a small barrier against the wind.

Two hours later you were wondering if this whole thing was a mistake.

You figured you’d wander in the woods and he would sense you were there, maybe smell you, and be on you in minutes. However, the minutes had dragged into hours and you felt numb and sore.

Your feet ached in cold and your cheeks were stinging and tinged pink as your breath fogged in front of your very eyes.

The temperature was dropping.

This was a bad idea.

Just as you were about to give up you could hear the flapping of wings and you looked up in time to see a huge dragon sailing above you.

It seemed to sense you and your heart fluttered thinking it was your dragon. However, when it started to descend you realized you didn’t recognize this dragon at all.

No gold-flecked scales, no pink either.

It touched down harshly in front of you and its beady eyes narrowed on yours.

You stayed frozen as you checked the dragon, all black except for a sickly green color around its snout.

It licked its lips and your stomach plummeted.

This was not a friendly dragon and you were about to be lunch.

Just as the dragon opened its mouth to shoot fire you were swooped up in claws and taken from the forest floor.

The wind whipped your hair around and when you finally found the bravery to open your eyes you looked up to see your saviour which was a black dragon with a golden belly.

“Namjoon!” You cried over the wind as he ignored you and took you higher and higher across the winter sky.

Flying was a lot colder this time around and he seemed to take you further than he ever had.

By the time you had touched down your cheeks and hands were frozen and you felt chilled to the bone.

He didn’t drop you off at the cave, or any cave for that matter. In fact, he dropped you off high in the mountains where an old rustic cottage sat.

You were about to open your mouth to thank him but you saw he wasn’t transforming back into his human self.

His eyes were narrowed and golden and even though he didn’t speak you could feel the rage radiating off him in waves.

He nodded a head towards the cottage and took off in flight leaving you stranded at the edge of a mountain.

You stood there watching his great wings flap against the sky and before long he was a speck in the distance.

You had no choice but to enter the quant cottage and warm yourself up as you got a fire started. It took ages with your numb fingers but once you were able to light the match the whole living room was bathed in warm firelight.

You padded from room to room slowly looking around as the wind howled all around you.

There was a small kitchen, a cozy living room, a small bathroom, and two bedrooms in the back.

Something drew you to the bedroom on the left and when you went inside your head spun. All you smelt was him.

Namjoon’s scent was everywhere and when you opened the closet sweaters and pants hung nearly, organized by color.

Your own clothes were frozen and not nearly as comfortable so you stripped in his room and grabbed a soft blue sweater to throw over your head.

You didn’t bother with the pants as he was much bigger than you but you did strip them off anyway and decided you would wear his sweater as a dress.

Making your way back to the living room you saw him standing by the fire, the light illuminating his dark features and when he made eye contact with you the air seemed to woosh from your lungs.

“You really are the most stubborn human I have ever met you know that.” He growls as his narrowed eyes rove your body and you are suddenly very aware you were not wearing pants.

“Good to see you too.” You deadpan as you make your way over to the couch and throw a blanket on your lap to cover yourself up.

“Do you know how bad it could have been if I had not been following you for the last hour?” He asks, voice low and dangerous as the fire flickers.

“So you knew I was in the forest then?” You ask

“Obviously.” He says sounding bored.

“And you didn’t think to come get me sooner? I walked around for two hours like an idiot looking for you.” You say sharply feeling embarassment rise.

He knew you had been there all along. He just let you wander lost.

“I thought you’d give up. I guess I forgot your stubbornness.” He chuckled to himself as he continued to stare into the fire.

“Why would I give up? You left your cloak on my property and I-I thought.” You said letting your voice die out as you stared at your lap.

You read this wrong, the whole thing was wrong and now you looked like a fool.

“Yes, I was wondering where that cloak had wandered off too.”

Your eyes met his sharp ones and he let out a long weary sigh.

“My cloak went missing days ago. It seems Taehyung has a taste for meddling. I made him confess right after I found you.” Namjoon says finally pushing away from the fire to sit in a lounge chair next to you.

“I-I thought- I…wow this is embarassing.” You say hugging your arms around yourself and staring at your feet unable to look at him.

“You thought I sent it.” He asks softly as you finally look his way.

His expression is gentle and understanding and you nod slowly.

“I had been completing rounds in an area Taehyung knew I would be in. I smelt the cloak right away. I smelt you right away. I was hoping you would give up. Go home but as I said you are a stubborn human. The dragon that found you. That could have been bad. Which is why I wanted you to go home. The forest is dangerous. I am dangerous.”

“So you don’t want me here?” You ask in a small voice feeling the sting of rejection deep in your chest.

“I brought you to my private cottage in the mountains. The only ones who know about it are my dragons. I brought you here for three reasons. Number one to keep you safe.” He says voice low as he leans closer to you as if he is about to tell you a secret.

“Number two, I told my dragons if they even fly close to this place tonight I will incinerate them.”

You giggle.

“Number three is because here you are, wearing my clothes, smelling of my cloak, and if I am not mistaken wearing no pants. I brought you here so I could ravish you in peace.”

You let out a small whimper at his words, squeezing your thighs together as Namjoon chuckles low and dangerously.

“That’s why you came all this way right? Why you put yourself in so much danger? Why you haven’t fucked the Park boy in weeks….. yes I know about that.” He says before you can interject.

You whimpered out his name. The tension was thick as a cloud and made your heart rate speed as he leaned even closer to you and you sucked in a breath.

“You want me, don’t you? You have wanted me since that first fight in the cave? Am I correct?”

You nod unable to form words as his hand reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“I didn’t say goodbye the first time because I couldn’t. I felt the same as you. The pull. The desire. Saying goodbye was too hard. I kick myself almost every day that I didn’t take you right there up against the cave wall. You were so stubborn, so infuriating that it made my cock so fucking hard.” He snarled, face inches from yours breath warm against your face.

“Do you still think I’m stubborn and infuriating?” You ask in a small voice as you shrink under his searing gaze.

“My human walked into the forest today, put her life at risk to get a good fuck by a dragon. What do you think princess?” He rasps against the shell of your ear causing goosebumps to rise on your skin despite the warm fire only mere feet away.

“You-Your human?” You asked him slowly blinking as he snickered and his mouth stretched into a sinister smile.

“Yes. My human. I’m going to fuck you and make you mine. As long as that’s what you wandered into the woods for?” He says teasingly with a cock of his eyebrow.

Desire throbbed throughout your body and you felt the anticipation of what was to come hang in the air.

You wanted him and you wanted him bad.

“Need to hear you say it human. Say how bad you want me.” He demands as you nod.

“No no, I need words.” He teases causing you to arch up and try to connect your lips with his.

“Words darling. Words. You do know what those are?”

You swallow hard.

“Yes. Namjoon please fuck me.” You beg as his eyes ignite gold and he grabs you and throws you over his broad shoulder.

You squeal and hold on for dear life as a hand comes down to spank your backside causing you to gasp and leak arousal down your thighs as he kicks open the bedroom door and throws you down on the bed.

Before you can blink his body is on top of yours, keeping you pinned to the bed as his mouth roves your neck. His nose is cold against your skin and you arch up to meet his body wanting to be covered by every inch of him as he explores you with passion.

“Kiss me- fuck Namjoon-please.” You beg as he attacks your lips with his own causing you to moan obscenly against his warm mouth.

His lips are firm and when he grinds his body down on yours you are delighted to feel the swell of his hard cock pressing against your stomach as you grind yourself against it to try and help relieve some of the ache that has formed between your legs.

Namjoon’s kisses are hot and when he delivers a small bite to your lip you gasp as he takes to opportunity to slip his tongue inside and explore your mouth.

Your hands are scraping at his body, desperate to feel his bare skin against yours as his hand comes to play with the hem of his sweatshirt that you are wearing, pulling it higher and higher exposing yourself to him.

He breaks the kiss causing you to whine in protest as he sits up and shucks his shirt over his head. You gasp when your eyes are met with miles of tanned skin and muscles that had been sculpted by hard work.

What shocked you most was his markings.

His body had many gold lines running around it. One thick line ran from his neck all the way down to his naval and you wondered if it would run further down.

His arms had thick gold bands circling them and he must have seen you staring because he turned around to show you his back, which had gold markings in the shape of dragon wings.

“Wow.” You breathed out as you took in his beauty.

He blushed under your praise.

“We get these markings when we become leaders. I’ve been a leader for five years but the wings just came in last year.” He explains as he sits on the bed and carefully takes your hand pressing it to the gold marks on his chest.

“You’re beautiful Namjoon.” You breathe out as he gives you a rare shy smile, which once again causes those dimples to show on his cheeks.

You slowly use the tip of your finger to trace the gold line on his chest, he shivers under your touch but lets you continue as you trace down his body, eyes following the path to where the line dips lower and his hard cock is straining against his pants in a way that has your mouth watering.

When you make it to the edge of his pants his resolve snaps and Namjoon pushes you back down on the bed and begins to kiss you again.

Your hands come to grab at his hair as his mouth attacks yours as his hips jut his cock into your stomach.

His lips don’t stay on yours for long as they begin to travel down your cheek and to your jawline where he peppers them making you whine and thrash under him.

“Don’t tease please.” You beg out as his lips suck a mark into your skin just above your collarbone as he chuckles against your skin.

“My little human you have to remember I’m a shapeshifter. A dragon. My cock is going to be a lot bigger than what you are used to. I have to prep you my impatient one.” He coos against your skin making you moan as his lips are intoxicating against your skin and you want nothing more than to have them somewhere else.

He seems to read your mind as he once again sits up on the bed and tugs at the sweater you are wearing, pulling it off and throwing it to the floor with a thump.

“Good choice. That is one of my favorite ones. You looked divine in it but I think you look better without it on.” He notes as his eyes rove your naked body.

“It…It was the one that smelled the most like you.” You admitted as his narrowed eyes took their time exploring your body.

From your collarbones to your breasts to your stomach and when his eyes dipped down to the flimsy piece of cloth covering your core the gold in his eyes seemed to shimmer.

“My beautiful human.” He hums as his lips connect with the skin of your neck and you throw your head back as they once again move.

When his warm, wet mouth makes it to your breasts you whine out his name as you try your best to hump your lower body into him.

At this point, you wonder if you have soaked the bed under you with how aroused you feel.

“Patience.” He reminds you as his mouth finally connects with your nipple and you see stars.

His other hand comes up to palm at your other breasts as he takes his time with your right one. Alternating between licking and sucking making arousal shoot through your bloodstream.

His mouth is warm and wet and when he pulls off your nipple with a wet pop you can’t help but squeeze your legs together in anticipation.

His eyes travel south and his mouth curls into a smirk when he catches the piece of fabric, so wet against you as he tears it from your body.

You gasp.

Namjoon slowly gets off the bed and palms his hard cock through his pants. His bulge is straight up obscene the way it is pushing against the fabric of his pants and when he adjusts it you can clearly see the head leaking precum staining his pants.

“Please. Namjoon. Please.” You beg feeling delirious from your arousal as he chuckles and grabs your legs pulling you to the edge of the bed with ease.

“How many times do I have to remind you to be patient with me? As much as I would love to slide my cock inside of you, and believe me I can tell by your scent how aroused you are, I also don’t want to hurt you.” He explains as he grabs a pillow and kneels on it you sit up to stare at him, the leader of the dragons kneeling before you.

“If your flight saw you now what would they say.” You teased as Namjoon’s eyes seemed to glow a brighter gold, even the markings on his body seemed to glow at your words.

“They would be jealous of how lucky I am to be between your legs about to ravish your pussy.” He says calmly as you throw a hand over your mouth to stop the moan that threatens to spill out.

“We are high in the mountains darling you can be as loud as you want. Actually, I encourage it.” He says shooting you a wink.

The first lick makes you arch off the bed and cry out his name.

The second lick makes you whine and moan against him

And the noises are just obscene.

His tongue laps and sucks at your core, licking up everything you have to give him as he noses at your clit and dances his tongue across your soaked folds.

You want to watch him but the pleasure takes over as you lay back on the bed and moan his name to the ceiling as he works you towards a high you know will destroy you.

His tongue flicks across your clit sending sparks up your spine and his hands stay firm on your thighs holding you to the bed as you take everything he is giving you.

Your voice raises in pitch. Your stomach is coiling in pleasure and when you finally cry out his name in warning Namjoon growls against your core and that sets you off.

You cum while gripping the sheets and crying out his name as waves upon waves of pleasure crash down on you. Namjoon licks up everything even going as far as nuzzling his nose against your pussy to give you extra stimulation.

When you can’t take it anymore you reach down to softly push his head away.

You feel weak and dizzy but also invigorated as you finally sit up and see Namjoon still kneeling before you.

His eyes are back to their brown color but his markings still glow and his face and cheeks are wet with your orgasm.

“Fuck.” You get out as you lay back down on the bed and press a hand to your racing heart.

It seems however Namjoon is not done as you feel a finger trace up your leg, starting at your knee and teasing higher and higher.

He gets up from the floor and places one knee on the bed and one hand on the bed holding himself steady as he hovers over you.

You push yourself up on your elbows as you suck in a sharp breath when he finally makes it to your core and when his finger circles your entrance you nod at him.

Namjoon coats his finger in your wetness before slowly pushing it inside your pussy. You sigh at the feeling of finally being filled and when he adds another finger you can’t help but grind down on them.

“Needy thing aren’t you.” He chuckled as he began to fuck you on his long fingers, pulling them out and pushing them in making you shiver.

As Namjoon works you with his fingers you can’t help but notice his neglected cock twitching in his pants.

You surprise him but reaching out for it and palming his length causing a low growl to leave his throat as he curls his fingers inside of you to rub at that spot that makes you see stars.

“Patience. You will get my cock in due time.” He says gruffly as his fingers start to speed up inside of you.

“Want you to feel good too Joon.” You argue as you palm at his cock and apply pressure to the head of it making him throw his head back and the veins in his neck bulge as you work him.

“I have two fingers deep in your pussy I feel great.” He argues back as he once again curls his fingers and you cum around them without warning.

Your walls spasm and you cry out his name as more arousal coats your insides and Namjoon helps you work through your high.

You come down a lot quicker this time and when you sit up you see Namjoon happily lapping at his digits that were just buried deep inside you.

“Can’t wait any longer need your cock.” You beg as he snickers and stands up from the bed.

Namjoon stands at the foot of the bed and stares you down. His eyes are narrowed and sharp as he takes in your ruined frame. He slowly reaches for his pants and palms at his cock as you take him in.

You knew he was the leader of the dragons. He was powerful, but this man standing in front of you radiated such confidence and power, that it made your mouth dry as he seemed to have enough of his own teasing and he finally pulled his pants down agonizingly slow.

When you saw the base of his cock you swallowed hard at its girth as he revealed more of himself to you. Once he shed himself off his pants his cock slapped against his stomach and your eyes grew wide.

He was thick and long, longer than you had ever seen and his cock was flushed an angry red color, but surprisingly had the gold markings wound around it.

His cockhead was leaking precum and it twitched against him as you fought to tear your eyes away from it and back to his handsome face.

“You understand now why I had to prep you.” He says with an eyebrow raised as you bite your lip and nod.

Namjoon settles himself on the bed as anticipation hangs in the air. You try to be polite and stare anywhere else but his cock but your eyes seem drawn to it and your pussy throbs at the thought of it entering you.

“You asked me once how do you ride a dragon?” he quips as he leans back against the headboard with a confident smirk on his face.

“Well, I think I’d like you to show me how you ride a dragon.”

You waste no time in climbing up on his lap settling yourself on his powerful thighs. You bring a hand down to grip his cock and moan at the sheer size of it.

Namjoon leaks steadily down his shaft as you begin to jerk him off slowly.

You flick your wrist at the top and he lets out a low grunt in his throat as you work him.

His shaft is warm and velvety under your palm and you can almost feel the blood pumping through it from the vein on the side.

Namjoon tries his best to hold back and let you explore but the feeling of your wetness coating his thigh and the fact he is already so embarrassingly close by just a couple strokes of your hand makes him push your hand away.

“You are too good at that you know.” He mutters

You snicker.

“Yeah, I’ve had some practice.” You taunt as Namjoon’s eyes narrow and a low disapproving grumble vibrates in his chest.

“And from now on the only person you will practice with is me. My human. Mine.” He growls as his teeth nip at your earlobe and you throw your head back and whine out his name.

“Say it. Say you're mine and only mine.” Namjoon demands as one hand comes down to swat at your ass causing it to sting and a broken moan to fall from your lips.

“Say it or I won’t fuck you.” He threatens as he once again slaps your ass and you cry out his name, tears of desperation gathering in your eyes.

“Yours. Joon. Only yours.” You beg as he snickers and his inner dragon purrs happily at the sound of that before he grabs the base of his cock and lines it up with your dripping folds.

“Now you have to be a good girl and listen to everything I say before I fuck you okay.” He mutters against your ear as his other hand comes up to pet your hair.

“Anything Joon. Anything.” You cry out.

“I’m going to stick my cock in you and you are going to sit there and take it until you adjust okay. I don’t want to hurt my beautiful human. I want her to be a good girl and wait until she’s fully adjusted got it?” He asks as you sob and try to force yourself down on his cock desperation making you act out.

“I said to be a good girl. Can you do that for me?” He coos in your ear as you whine and nod.

Namjoon slowly grabs his cock and lets you sink onto it at your own pace.

The stretch is unbelievable and you almost feel your eyes cross at how good it feels. You take him inch by inch, taking deep breaths and stopping when you need to.

Namjoon is patient as he lets you sink down but you can tell by the look on his face he is doing everything in his power not to fuck up into you wildly.

Once you make it to the bottom and he is fully sheathed you let out a shaky breath and press your hands to his warm chest for support.

“Fuck I’m so full Joonie.” You grit out as the stretch still stings, though the comforting circles he rubs on your back do help.

“I know baby. You feel so tight around my cock. Squeezing me so good. You're going to squeeze the cum right out of me aren’t you.” He purrs in your ear which makes your walls flutter around his length.

“So full but so good.” You cry out as you look down and gasp when you look between your bodies.

Namjoon’s cock is so big, so deep inside of you it makes your lower stomach bulge out slightly. His eyes follow yours and he lets out an animalistic growl as he sees how full you are.

The minutes tick by. You feel yourself slowly start to relax around his cock and when you finally look up into his handsome face he has his eyes closed, his teeth biting into his lip and is taking short breaths out of his nose.

“You okay there Joon?” You ask playfully as he opens his eyes which are once again shining gold and he stares at you.

“I’m okay.” He says voice slightly cracking as you giggle, finally feeling your body adjust to his length and you wiggle your hips slightly, teasing him.

“Are you sure? You look in pain?” You goad unable to stop yourself from swirling your hips and looking at the pained expression on his face.

“You feel so hot and tight around me and I am trying to be a gentleman and let you adjust but you teasing me like this is not helping.” He grits out and you once again giggle.

“Who says I’m not adjusted?” You tease and it’s game over.

Namjoon grabs your hips so hard you know you will have bruises tomorrow and he fucks up into you wildly.

You grab onto his shoulders for support as you grind down to meet his thrusts.

Namjoon huffs out in annoyance and rolls you over so he is on top of you and begins to snap his hips harshly, causing his cock to reach inside of you so deep it makes you see stars.

“S-So good.” You cry out voice slurring as he continues to pound into you with force

Namjoon grunts in your ear, low and dangerous as he fucks into you, his voice sending shivers up your spine as he pistons in his hips into you in a way that has his cockhead touching your g-spot with every thrust.

“You test me. You tease me. You come into these woods putting your life in danger just to find me. You are so infuriating sometimes.” He growls as he holds you down on the bed and fucks into you sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing over your body.

“I think you like the thrill you know. I think you like someone testing you.” You shoot back as his face snaps up to meet your gaze and he licks his lips.

“You know I fucking do.” He groans as he slips his cock out of you and you are about to protest but he flips you over and gets you on your hands and knees.

His cock enters you again and this time the angle is different and so much deeper as he pounds into you harshly, making you take his entire length.

“You know how hard it was for me to say goodbye. You know how much I came all over my fist at the thought of you. I felt like a pervert the amount of times I got hard at the thought of you. The amount of cum I wasted on my fist instead of being buried in your pussy.”

You cry out at his words but it seems he’s not done. With every thrust of his cock he is bringing you closer to the edge and you start to fuck back into him meeting him halfway and making a growl rumble deep in his chest.

“I’m going to cum so deep inside you today. You will be ruined for anyone else. You are mine. No one else just my little cum dump to use as I please.”

He sends a hard smack to your ass and you cry out his name as the pleasure in your stomach builds higher and high and the coil of pleasure gets tighter.

You cry out his name.

But he knows. Of course, he knows.

His hand comes to reach between your legs and with a couple of circles of your clit he has you cumming hard, your walls clamping around his cock as you cry out his name, tears falling at how good it feels as your orgasm crashes into you.

Namjoon is still fucking into you wildly but he can feel his own high approaching, his body is glistening with sweat making his gold marking glow as he grabs the base of his cock and tries his best to stave off his orgasm until he pulls out.

Namjoon pulls out with a harsh hiss, and after a couple of strokes to his heated length, he cums all over your back using his hand to milk himself dry as ropes of white cum land on your back and ass.

You wait until he’s done before slumping on the bed and taking several deep breaths. A dull ache forms between your legs as you lay there motionless and try to catch your breath.

Your body tingles in after orgasm bliss and you can’t help but flutter your eyes closed as he moves off the bed behind you.

You feel a warm cloth on your back as Namjoon wipes you down, he takes his time and is meticulous in his work and before you know it you are scooped up into his arms and carried to the small bathroom where a warm bath is running.

You are slowly lowered down in the bath and you hiss at the warm temperature but you feel your body instantly relax when you are submerged.

Namjoon leaves the room and when he returns he is dressed in simple black pants and a white shirt and he plops down on the floor next to the tub to keep you company.

“That was incredible” You breathe out unable to keep your head up and instead you decide to rest it on your arms as you stare at him.

“I agree.” He responds as his hand comes out to grab yours as his thumb rubs soothing circles on your skin.

“You are a liar though Joon.” You say softly as his eyebrows raise.

“You didn’t cum inside me like you said. Thought you wanted to make me yours?” You ask grinning at him.

Despite just having the best sex of his life his cock twitches in interest in his pants.

“It was a heat of the moment thing. If I did cum inside you and got you pregnant…we dragons usually don’t mix with humans but there are cases where they do. There’s just a lot we would have to go through first. If you were pregnant with my child. I’d be cast out. I’d lose my leadership, my dragons, my everything.” he admits as he brings your hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss.

He will admit the thought of carrying his child is making his cock a lot more interested in the conversation and he grumbles when he realizes he is fully hard again.

“What are the steps we have to take?” You ask staring up at him through full lashes.

“I’d have to court you for at least six months. Then we would have to go to the council and explain the situation. And only after their approval would we be able to continue. And because I’m a leader, it will take a lot longer.” He admits feeling suddenly saddened.

“Well I already admitted to being yours so I guess the rest of the steps don’t seem so bad.” You sigh sleepily as Namjoon’s head snaps up.

“You want to be with me? To have me court you?” He asks feeling his heart hammer in his chest.

“Of course! I walked into the woods and risked my life for you. I didn’t just do that for a fuck. Though that was amazing.” You say winking at him.

Namjoon’s heart flutters and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your temple as your eyes slowly close.

Namjoon lets you rest knowing despite his best efforts you will still be sore for days to come. He sits on the cold bathroom floor and reaches out through his mind to Seokjin.

Yes, Namjoon? Are we allowed to communicate with you now?

Namjoon rolls his eyes at the smugness in Seokjin’s voice and lets out a frustrated sigh when Hoseok joins in

Ah, you are done. About time. We were worried dusk would come before the two of you got your hands off each other.

Good thing her father’s a carpenter maybe he can make you a bed. I assume you destroyed this one?

Namjoon let out a warning growl but it didn’t stop the dragons in his head from chuckling

Okay nevermind this conversation is over

Hey! We didn’t mean it we were just teasing. Anyway, what do you need?

Namjoon eyes you snoozing peacefully in the tub, his hand dipped in the water to make sure it is still warm for you

Can you teach me how to cook?

The silence in his head makes him fidget before he hears a snicker

Do you want to burn the cabin down that bad?

Hoseok and his goddamn “humor”

Can you both be serious for once?

Ah Hoseok you know how our Joon is. If he’s asking for help it must be serious. Besides he can just burn it down with a fireball. Now tell me Namjoon are you courting the human?

Yes

The cheers in his head are loud as Seokjin and Hoseok whoop and holler in excitement

Okay okay enough. I’m still your leader you know

Oh, this is so exciting! Of course Namjoon we will teach you how to cook for her, maybe air out the cabin before we come over though it’s going to be hard to teach you how to cook with all the sex in the air.

Namjoon grumbles at Hoseok’s teasing but when he looks at you it makes a little teasing all worth it.

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#Kim Namjoon #Namjoon #Namjoon/reader #bts fic #bts smut #Namjoon smut #namjoon/reader smut #namjoonxreader #namjoonxreader smut

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