#fighting through shame and embarrassment to just get it done

[halfmoonaria]

he doesn’t know

pairing: sub!tara carpenter & dom!female reader

summary: every sunday, she finds herself in the backseat of your car instead—legs shaking, breath hitching, and trying to keep quiet.

warnings: smut (18+), cheating, secret relationship, oral sex (tara receiving), strap-on sex

author’s note: never done this so tell me if it’s too much.

Tara wasn't ashamed. She never had been.

When she was four, she decided she wanted to wear her fairy costume to preschool—not for Halloween, not for a special event, just because she felt like it.

The glittery wings were bent from being stuffed in the dress-up bin too many times, and the tulle skirt was a little too short after a year-long growth spurt, but she didn't care. It made her feel pretty, so she wore it.

Her mom tried to talk her out of it, and Sam sighed like she was already embarrassed on her behalf, but Tara had been stubborn even then.

She had marched out the door, wings bouncing with every step, and refused to acknowledge the weird looks from other kids.

It was the same when she cut her own bangs in the first grade.

She had gotten bored, found a pair of dull craft scissors, and decided she wanted a change. The result was uneven and way too short, a jagged mess that made her mom gasp when she saw it. Sam winced and tried to smooth it down for her, saying she'd regret it when she looked back at pictures.

Tara just shrugged. It was her hair. If she didn't care, then why should anyone else?

That was how she had always been—bold, impulsive, never second-guessing herself. She wasn't reckless, not really, but she never understood the point of worrying about what people thought.

Her parents didn't know where it came from.

Sam was careful, always weighing her choices, always thinking ahead. She cared about things like reputation, about saying the right thing and making the right impression. She was the responsible one, the one who took after their mom, the one who fit into every expectation placed in front of her.

Tara was different.

She did things because she wanted to, because they felt right in the moment. She never thought too hard about whether she should. And when people questioned her, when they looked at her like she was weird or childish, she never let it get to her.

When she was eight, she declared that she was going to be a superhero for career day, no matter how many times her teacher told her to pick something realistic.

And when she was ten, she ran straight into a fight with a kid twice her size because he made fun of her friend's lisp. She had come home with a bloody nose and a proud grin, and Sam had scolded her the whole time she was pressing an ice pack to her face.

"You don't just fight people, Tara," Sam had said, exasperated. "What if he had really hurt you?"

"He didn't," Tara had replied. "And he won't make fun of her again."

That was what mattered to her—doing what she felt was right, standing by the choices she made, never letting anyone make her feel small.

And shame? That wasn't something she carried.

When other kids went through awkward phases, blushing at old photos or cringing at past decisions, Tara barely blinked. She had no regrets, no embarrassment. She never understood why Sam stressed over things like reputation or what people might whisper behind her back.

Tara didn't let people's opinions shape her. She never had. She was bold, confident, completely sure of herself in a way that most kids weren't.

But that didn't mean she was immune to normal things. Crushes, for example.

Her first celebrity crush had been Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You. She was barely old enough to understand what a crush was, but she knew she liked watching him. He had that effortless charm, that mischievous smile—she figured that was what people meant when they said someone was attractive.

But as she got older, that crush faded.

She expected another one to take its place. That's how it worked, right? You grew up, your tastes changed, you found someone new to fawn over.

Except... she didn't.

At least, not the way she was supposed to.

Because when she rewatched the movie, waiting for that familiar feeling to settle in at the sight of Heath's smirk, it never came. Instead, she felt something entirely different—something she didn't understand—when Julia Stiles appeared on screen.

It wasn't just that she admired her. It wasn't just that she thought she was cool. It was the way her stomach flipped at the sharpness of her voice, the confidence in her posture. It was the way she suddenly found herself hyper-fixated on the little things—her smirk, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the sharp glint in her eyes when she delivered a cutting remark.

And it wasn't just her.

It was the girl in her chemistry class with the pretty hands. The soccer captain who always had her hair in a messy bun. The stranger she saw at the mall, dressed in a leather jacket and looking effortlessly cool.

But she didn't get it.

Because that wasn't supposed to happen.

She had always been confident in who she was. She never questioned herself, never second-guessed her choices. But this? This threw her off. It didn't fit into the version of herself she had always known.

So, for the first time in her life, she did the one thing she never thought she would.

She ignored it.

At least, she tried to.

But it was impossible to ignore something that followed her everywhere. Her eyes drifted—unintentionally at first, but then with growing awareness. The girls in her classes, the ones at the mall, the cashier at the grocery store. It wasn't just about noticing them, either. It was the way her stomach tensed when a girl laughed in that soft, pretty way, or the heat that crept up her neck when one of them brushed past her too closely.

And then there were the movies.

She used to argue hard whenever Mindy and Annika suggested a rom-com over a horror flick. But lately? She still huffed, still acted annoyed, but the protests weren't as strong as before. And when a sex scene came on, she didn't roll her eyes or fake gag anymore.

Because the problem was, she was watching.

Not the man. Never the man.

Her focus lingered elsewhere—on the curves of a woman's body, the softness of her skin, the way her lips parted on a moan. Tara didn't mean to stare, didn't mean to feel anything, but she did.

And that terrified her more than any horror movie ever could.

Not because she thought it was wrong. Tara hadn't grown up in a religious household, where being gay was condemned, or in a place where she'd been taught to believe it was unnatural. Her family never gave her any reason to think she couldn't be whoever she wanted, love whoever she wanted.

She had lesbian friends, gay friends. Mindy was out and proud, never hesitating to call a girl hot in the middle of a conversation. No one ever looked twice. It was normal. Accepted. Fine.

So why didn't it feel fine for her?

She knew it wasn't wrong—she wasn't stupid. She'd never side-eyed anyone for being into girls, never thought twice when someone came out. But somehow, when it was her—when the label curled around her throat and squeezed—it felt different.

Tara had spent her whole life knowing exactly who she was. She had never been unsure. She was bold. Confident. Unapologetic. She cut her own bangs with safety scissors when she was six and shrugged when Sam gasped at the mess she made.

She wore her Halloween costume from last year to school in the middle of March because she liked it. When she made a decision, she stuck to it, never second-guessed herself, never hesitated.

But this? This wasn't something she chose.

It crept up on her, slithered into her brain like an unwanted thought, a splinter she couldn't pull out. And it was infuriating, because she had never questioned herself before—never felt like she had to.

And yet, here she was.

Staring too long at girls in her classes, feeling her chest go tight when a woman laughed a certain way, blinking too fast at the TV whenever a female character undressed.

This wasn't supposed to happen to her.

It was okay for other people to be gay. She never questioned that. It was fine, normal, good for them. But when she looked at herself, at the thought of admitting it, of saying it out loud—it felt impossible. Like it didn't belong to her. Like the rules were different for her, even though she knew, logically, they weren't.

Maybe that was what scared her the most.

That for the first time in her life, she wasn't sure of herself.

That for the first time in her life, she felt ashamed.

She hated it. Hated how it made her feel like a stranger in her own skin, like she had something to hide when she had never hidden anything in her life.

And the worst part? Mindy was starting to notice.

Or maybe she wasn't. Maybe she was just being Mindy, teasing for the sake of getting a rise out of her like she always did. But Tara felt exposed all the same, like she was standing in the middle of a room with a spotlight on her, like any second now someone would call her out and she wouldn't have a damn thing to say in return.

It started small.

It started with little things. A smirk when a pretty girl passed by. A knowing look when Tara stumbled over her words around someone attractive. A casual, So, you got a thing for brunettes now? when Tara glanced at someone for half a second too long.

It was nothing. Just jokes. But every time, Tara felt a spike of panic she couldn't shake.

Because she wasn't used to this—this hesitation, this awareness of herself. Normally, if someone called her out on something, she'd just own it. Shrug it off. Yeah, so what? But now, the idea of admitting anything made her stomach twist.

She could play it off, roll her eyes, throw a sarcastic comment back. But Mindy wasn't stupid. And she wasn't letting it go.

One night, they were walking back from a party when Mindy casually nudged her side and said, You totally froze up when that girl talked to you.

Tara scoffed, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. I did not.

You did. And you were blushing.

I don't blush.

Mindy had just grinned, like she had already made up her mind. Uh-huh. Sure.

Tara had let it go, pretended it didn't bother her. But later, alone in her room, she caught herself replaying the interaction in her head, her chest tightening with frustration.

Why did she care so much?

Why did it matter what Mindy thought?

Maybe because deep down, she wasn't entirely sure Mindy was wrong.

And if Mindy could see it, then who else could?

That was what scared her the most. Because Mindy wasn't wrong. That was the worst part.

And whenever Mindy made comments about it, Tara would scoff, roll her eyes, shove her shoulder, mutter something about reaching—

But every time, her pulse would quicken, her ears would burn, and she'd feel the panic rise in her chest like a tidal wave.

It wasn't just the waitress at the diner, the one with the dimples and the low-cut uniform. It wasn't just the girl in her sociology class, the one with the raspy voice who always showed up with a cold brew and a half-smirk. It was everywhere.

At the gym, when she caught herself watching the way a girl tied up her ponytail, the smooth shift of her muscles.

At the grocery store, when she found herself staring just a little too long at the woman reaching for something on the top shelf, her shirt lifting just enough to reveal a sliver of her stomach.

At movie night, when she no longer protested the romance movies Mindy and Anika picked—because she didn't mind watching them anymore.

That was the real problem. Because she still hated the cheesy dialogue and the unrealistic plotlines, but whenever there was a sex scene, whenever a woman undressed, Tara wasn't looking away.

She didn't want to.

And that terrified her.

Because it wasn't just a thought anymore, wasn't just something lurking in the back of her mind that she could ignore. It was becoming real, something she couldn't control. She started feeling like people could see it—like it was written all over her, like she had a neon sign above her head flashing Tara Carpenter likes girls.

And maybe nobody actually noticed. Maybe nobody gave a damn. But it didn't matter because she felt exposed anyway, like someone could call her out at any second. Like Mindy's teasing wasn't just teasing anymore—like it was an accusation.

It was in the way people looked at her, in the way her own skin felt too tight, too obvious. She started overthinking every little thing—how long she looked at a girl, whether she was staring, whether her voice sounded different when she spoke to someone pretty. Whether she was acting different.

And the worst part was that she didn't even know if she was right. She didn't know if people actually saw something in her that she hadn't seen before, or if she was just losing her mind over nothing. But it didn't matter. The fear was there, real and suffocating, and it was eating her alive.

So she did the only thing she could think to do.

She got a boyfriend.

Or, more accurately, she asked Chad out.

It wasn't some grand realization. It wasn't even a well-thought-out decision. It was desperation. Panic. Like a reflex, like slamming the brakes at the last second before a crash.

And Chad just happened to be there.

And in a way, it made sense. She'd known him forever. Before high school, before college, before parties and liquor and sneaking out when Sam wasn't looking. He was familiar. Safe. He liked her. Everyone knew that.

Ever since sixth grade, people had whispered about it. Girls in their class used to giggle and nudge each other whenever Chad so much as looked at her. It was obvious.

He was the guy who always found excuses to talk to her, who laughed a little too hard at her jokes, who got weirdly competitive when she dated someone else, even when there was no reason to be.

So when she asked him out, there was no hesitation.

He said yes before she even finished the sentence.

And that was supposed to be it.

She had a boyfriend now. That was supposed to fix everything.

It was supposed to make things go away—the butterflies in her stomach, the heat crawling up her neck whenever a girl smiled at her, the way she noticed things she wasn't supposed to notice.

It was supposed to make Mindy shut up.

It was supposed to be easy.

But it wasn't.

If anything, it only got worse.

At first, she told herself it was working. That it was fine. She had a boyfriend. She was in a relationship. If people had questions before, they wouldn't anymore.

And it wasn't like she hated Chad. He was sweet. Affectionate. A little too eager sometimes, but that wasn't new. And for a while, she let herself believe that this was how it was supposed to be.

But then he kissed her.

And it wasn't bad. There was nothing wrong with it. His lips were soft, his hands were warm, he knew what he was doing. But for some reason, Tara felt wrong.

Like she was trying to force something that wasn't there.

And maybe that would've been fine if it was just the kissing. If it stopped at making out on his couch, at him pulling her into his lap at parties, at his arm draped lazily around her shoulders.

But it didn't stop.

And that was when the real problem started.

Because the first time they had sex, she didn't feel relieved.

She felt nothing.

No spark, no excitement, no rush of pleasure or warmth curling through her stomach. Just the uncomfortable realization that she was waiting for it to feel like something more.

And it never did.

She knew what sex was supposed to feel like—what it was supposed to do to her. But with Chad, it was just... there. Mechanical. Predictable. And all she could think about was whether it would be different if it were a woman.

Would a woman's lips feel softer than Chad's? Would her moans be louder? Would Tara's own moans sound different—less forced, less careful—if she wasn't holding back, if she actually wanted it?

Would the right spots be hit without her having to guide him there?

Would she ache for it the way she was supposed to?

She didn't know.

But she wanted to.

And THAT was the worst part. Because she wasn't supposed to be thinking about this. She wasn't supposed to be comparing. But every time Chad touched her, every time his hands slipped under her shirt, every time he pressed her into the mattress and murmured her name against her skin, she found herself wondering.

Would it feel better?

Would it feel right?

And once that thought was in her head, it wouldn't leave.

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she wanted to be normal, it wasn't working.

And with every day that passed, she started to realize—maybe it never would.

That thought alone should have terrified her. Should have made her try harder to make things with Chad work, to prove to herself that this was just a phase, a weird glitch in her brain that she could push through.

But instead, it just made her angry.

Because she had done everything RIGHT. She had played by the rules, followed the script, done exactly what she was supposed to do. And yet, here she was, stuck in her own damn head, questioning things she shouldn’t be questioning.

And it didn't help that you existed.

You weren't someone that necessarily stood out in a crowd—not in the way Mindy did, always loud, always on, impossible to ignore. But Tara knew you.

Everybody did.

Because you weren't just out, you were openly out. Unapologetically. The kind of gay that didn't need to be announced because it was just there. The way you dressed, the way you carried yourself, the way you talked about girls without ever hesitating.

Mindy was the same way, sure, but Mindy was Mindy. She had always been that way—loud, cocky, the self-proclaimed expert on all things queer.

But you? You weren't loud. You weren't in people's faces about it. You just were. And for some reason, that made it so much worse.

Because it meant Tara couldn't ignore you.

And she had tried.

God, had she tried.

But no matter what, her eyes always seemed to find you at parties, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, laughing at something someone said. Or in class, when you stretched in your seat, the hem of your shirt riding up just a little. Or when you passed by in the hall, chatting with Anika about some girl you had hooked up with the weekend before.

It made Tara's stomach twist in ways she didn't understand.

Because she wasn't jealous. Not really.

So then why did she care?

Why did it bother her so much?

Why did she hate how easy it seemed for you? How you never hesitated, never stumbled over your words, never had to second-guess every single thing you felt?

Maybe that's why she had looked at you that night at the party.

Maybe that's why she had kept looking.

And maybe that's why, when she finally realized you had caught her, she couldn't bring herself to look away.

The party had been the same as every other frat party—loud, overcrowded, the air thick with cheap beer and sweat and the distant scent of weed. The living room was packed, music shaking the walls, bodies pressed together, some dancing, some just using it as an excuse to grope each other. The kitchen was worse, sticky floors and an overworked fridge stuffed with liquor bottles, people shouting over each other as they took shots, beer pong cups scattered across every available surface.

It wasn't Tara's scene. Not really. But Mindy had dragged her out, Anika too, and after a couple of drinks, the haze had settled in just enough to make it bearable.

And then she had seen you.

She hadn't even known you were going to be there. But one second, she was standing near the edge of the living room, half-listening to some guy rant about his business major, and the next, her eyes had locked onto you—and everything else just faded into background noise.

Because you weren't just there.

You were hot.

Tara had always known you were attractive in the way someone KNOWS things without really thinking about it. She had eyes. She wasn't blind. But that night, it hit her. It knocked the air from her lungs, settled thick and heavy in the pit of her stomach, made her pulse in places she shouldn't have been thinking about.

The alcohol made it worse.

She should've been angry—angry that you were here, that you were making her feel things she didn't want to feel. But she wasn't.

She was just staring.

Her grip tightened around her cup, her lips parted slightly as she took you in—your outfit, the way it hugged your body in all the right places, the effortless confidence in the way you carried yourself.

You weren't wearing something basic, like a black cat or a schoolgirl outfit. No, you were dressed as something that exuded confidence, something cocky—mafia boss style, but with a spin that made it impossible to ignore.

A fitted black blazer, tailored to perfection, cinched at the waist with a sleek belt. Underneath, a deep-cut silk blouse, the first few buttons undone just enough to tease, the fabric clinging to your frame in a way that made it hard not to look.

The skirt was short—really short—hugging your hips before stopping dangerously high on your thighs, paired with sheer black stockings that ran smooth down to your heels.

A fake cigar rested between your fingers, just for the effect, and a thin gold chain sat against your collarbone, glinting under the dim party lights. The whole look screamed power, control— trouble.

Tara's body reacted before her brain could catch up.

Her stomach tightened. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, and she felt a rush of heat spread through her—low and needy and completely out of her control.

Because you weren't even trying. You weren't flirting with her, weren't giving her any special attention. You were just existing—laughing with your friends, a drink in hand, head tilting back slightly as you said something that made them all grin.

And yet, Tara felt like she was the one being hunted.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't normal.

And the second you turned your head, the second your eyes met hers, the smirk that tugged at your lips was enough to make her stomach drop.

Because Tara had never expected you to actually notice her.

She had been staring, sure—longer than she should have, more obviously than she meant to. But the idea of you catching her? The idea of you actually seeing her? That hadn't even crossed her mind.

She was frozen for a second, unsure if she should look away, pretend she hadn’t been blatantly checking you out.

But before she could decide, you were already moving—pushing off the counter with an effortless kind of confidence, weaving through the crowd like you had all the time in the world.

And you didn't hesitate. Didn't stop. Walked straight up to her like you had known her for years, like there was no question about it, like this was something that had always been meant to happen.

For a second, she thought you were going to say something cocky. Something teasing, something about the way she had been looking at you, something that would make her panic spike even higher.

Instead, you had just said her name.

Like it was obvious. Like of course you knew who she was.

Tara didn't even remember what she had said back, because her mind had been caught on you. On the way you leaned in a little when you talked, the way you smelled like expensive perfume and vodka, the way the room was too loud but she could still hear you.

And the worst part? She could barely even keep her gaze up.

Her eyes kept drifting—down to the smooth skin of your collarbone, the gold chain resting against it. Lower, to where your silk blouse was open just enough to show a teasing amount of cleavage.

She had snapped her gaze back up quickly, hoping you hadn't noticed.

You had.

After that, she didn't remember much. At least, not in detail.

She remembered you handing her another drink, remembered the feeling of your fingers brushing hers. She remembered how your lips looked around the rim of your glass, how you licked a drop of alcohol off your bottom lip without thinking. She remembered how close you stood, how the warmth of your body practically wrapped around hers, even though you weren't touching.

And she remembered that the second she was with you, she stopped thinking about HIM.

Chad was somewhere—probably off doing some stupid drinking challenge with his teammates, yelling over a game of beer pong, flexing or showing off or whatever the hell he and his sport-obsessed friends did. But the important thing was that he wasn't here.

And Tara didn’t care.

He didn't cross her mind once. Not when you leaned in to say something against her ear, your breath warm against her skin. Not when you laughed at something she said and touched her arm, your fingers grazing her through the sleeve of her jacket. Not when your eyes flicked down to her lips and back up again, slow, deliberate.

And definitely not when she found herself tilting her head, when the alcohol made her bold enough to not overthink, when she kissed you before she could stop herself.

That part was hazy.

All she knew was that one second, you were standing close, and the next, her lips were on yours. And she didn't regret it. Not even a little.

She didn't know who pulled who. Didn't know how it had escalated so quickly. All she knew was that at some point, your fingers curled around her wrist, and she let you guide her through the crowd, past the bodies pressed together, past the couples making out in dark corners, past the booming music.

And then you were in a bedroom.

And that was where everything really started.

Tara barely remembered how you got there. One moment, the party had been a blur of flashing lights and pounding music, the heat of bodies pressing in on her from all sides.

And then, suddenly, it was just you. Just the two of you, the noise of the party fading behind a closed door, leaving nothing but the sound of her own breathing and the pounding of her pulse.

Fuck.

She should have hesitated. She should have thought about Chad. But she didn't.

Not when you were this close, your scent filling her nose—something dark and sweet, like vanilla and smoke. Not when your fingers brushed her wrist, sending a spark up her arm. Not when your gaze flickered down to her mouth like you already knew exactly what she wanted.

And then your lips were on hers, and—fuck.

It wasn't like kissing Chad. With him, it had always been easy, predictable. She knew what to expect, what it would feel like. But this? This was something else entirely. Your lips were softer, but the way you kissed her was anything but. You didn't just kiss—you took. You grabbed her, pulled her into you, kissed her like you owned her.

Tara barely even noticed when her back hit the door. Not when your hands slid beneath her top, fingers ghosting over her ribs, dragging up her sides. Not when your knee pressed between her thighs, making her suck in a sharp breath.

She had never felt like this before.

With Chad, she had always been able to keep a part of herself detached. But with you? There was no thinking. No overanalyzing. Just the sharp, intoxicating press of your body against hers, the way your mouth trailed down her jaw, her neck, biting just hard enough to make her gasp.

Her hands moved on their own, slipping beneath your blazer, pushing it off your shoulders. She barely had time to register the sound of it hitting the floor before her fingers were on the buttons of your shirt, fumbling as she pulled it open.

And then she saw you.

The smooth curve of your shoulders, the way the dim lighting cast shadows along your stomach. The black lace of your bra, barely covering your chest. She couldn't stop staring. Couldn't stop wanting.

You grinned like you knew exactly what was going through her mind, and then your hands were on her thighs, gripping tight as you lifted her onto the dresser. Her legs parted without hesitation, wrapping around your waist as your lips crashed back against hers.

Tara didn't remember how her top came off, only that suddenly she was half-naked, her back pressed against the mirror, your hands roaming her body like you needed to touch every inch of her.

And then you were lowering yourself, trailing kisses down her chest, over her stomach, sinking to your knees between her thighs.

Her breath hitched.

Chad had never done this.

And when your mouth pressed against her, when your tongue flicked against her in a way that made her spine arch—

She knew.

This was what she had been craving all along.

And Tara still remembered it.

It wasn't just that it had felt good—it was the way it had felt right. The way her body had reacted to every touch, every flick of your tongue, every bite, every fucking thing you did to her like she had been waiting for it her whole life without even knowing.

She had never felt euphoric before. Never felt her limbs go weak, her head go light, her stomach twist with something dangerously close to desperation. But that night, with your hands gripping her thighs, your mouth between them, your voice murmuring something low and filthy against her skin—it was like a switch had flipped.

With Chad, it had always been just...fine. Nice, in the way that it was supposed to be.

He touched her the way a boyfriend should.

He kissed her the way a boyfriend should.

He made sure she was taken care of, in the way that a boyfriend should.

And Tara had always figured that was enough.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

It was the way you didn't just kiss her—you devoured her. Like she was something to be tasted, something to be enjoyed. It was the way your hands gripped her like you needed her closer, the way your nails dragged over her thighs, the way your tongue moved like you knew exactly how to make her fall apart.

And fuck, did she fall apart.

She had never been this loud before. She had never shaken like this, never clutched at the sheets, never let her head fall back, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut as you pulled every single sound out of her like you owned them.

And you did.

Because it wasn't just what you were doing—it was the way you did it. The way you looked up at her with those fucking eyes, the way you didn't stop, not even when she swore she couldn't take any more, not even when her legs trembled around your shoulders.

And when she finally did come apart, gasping your name, head thrown back, body arching, back hitting the mirror so hard she thought it might crack—she had never felt something like that before.

She knew it was wrong.

She should have felt guilty. She should have felt sick to her stomach, ashamed, horrified at what she had just done. She had Chad—sweet, loyal Chad—waiting for her somewhere downstairs, probably wondering where she had disappeared to. She had a boyfriend, and she had just—

But it didn't feel wrong.

It should have. God, it should have. She should have been scrambling for her clothes, should have been choking on regret, should have been thinking of ways to explain it away. But instead, all she could feel was the aftershocks still pulsing through her body, the ghost of your hands on her skin, the warm, lazy hum in her limbs.

It didn't feel like a mistake.

It didn't feel like something to regret.

It felt like something she had needed.

But she should have pushed you away.

She should have looked at you with disgust, should have spat out some excuse about being drunk, about making a mistake, about how this wasn’t her, about how this couldn’t happen again.

But she didn't.

Because it didn't feel like a mistake.

And when you moved closer, when your fingers trailed lazily over her bare skin, when your lips brushed against her neck as if you were inviting her to take more—to take everything—Tara didn't pull away.

Instead, before she could even think, before she could stop herself, she heard herself asking if you could do this again sometime.

The words had slipped out so easily, like she had been waiting to say them, like they had been sitting on the tip of her tongue for months, just waiting for the chance to be spoken.

And when you smirked, when you leaned in and murmured something she could barely register through the haze in her head, when your lips brushed over hers one last time before pulling away—Tara knew.

She wasn't going to stop.

She couldn’t stop.

Because no matter how wrong it was, no matter how much she should have felt guilty—she wanted it. And that was the worst part.

Or maybe the worst part was that it happened again.

She should have known it would.

Because the moment she walked out of that frat house, the moment she left you behind in that bedroom, she couldn't stop thinking about you. About what had happened. About how fucking good it had felt.

She should have felt guilty.

She should have gone home, called Chad, done something to make this feel like a mistake. But instead, she laid in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, body still humming, hands gripping the sheets because she couldn't fucking sleep—because she wanted more.

And then, a few days later, she got a text.

meet me in ten.

No context. No explanation. Just an address and a ticking clock.

She shouldn't have gone.

But she did.

She told herself she wasn't going for that, that she just wanted to see what you had to say, that she just wanted to—fuck, she didn't know. But she found herself getting in her car anyway, her hands tightening around the wheel the closer she got.

The address you had sent led her to an empty parking lot just outside of town, the kind of place people went when they didn't want to be seen. Your car was parked in the farthest corner, backed up against a row of trees, tinted windows hiding whatever happened inside.

It was the perfect spot.

And Tara knew exactly why you had picked it.

Her heart was pounding when she parked beside you. Her body was already warm, already tingling with anticipation as she climbed into your passenger seat.

And the second you looked at her—smirking like you knew she had been thinking about this all fucking week—she realized she had been waiting for this to happen again.

That was how it started.

One meeting turned into two.

Two turned into three.

And then, before she even knew how it had happened, it became a routine.

Every Sunday.

A text. A location. Your car parked somewhere no one would find you. And then hands on skin, lips crashing together, nails dragging, teeth biting, clothes being pushed aside because neither of you ever had the patience to take them off completely.

She knew it was fucked up.

She knew it was wrong.

But that didn't stop her from showing up every damn week.

And the worst part wasn't that she was lying.

It was how she was lying.

Because of all the excuses she could have used—homework, hangouts with Mindy, anything that actually made sense—the one she found herself using the most was that she was going to church.

Fucking church.

She didn't even believe in anything. Had never been the type to sit through a sermon, had never even entertained the idea of faith, and yet—somehow—Chad never questioned it.

Maybe it was because he was just that gullible. Maybe it was because he wasn't used to suspecting her of anything. Or maybe it was because, despite knowing her for over a year, he didn't know her as well as he thought he did.

Either way, every Sunday when she told him she couldn't hang out, when she said she had to go to mass, when she put on some half-assed ugh my mom’s making me go tone, he just accepted it.

Told her to have fun.

Asked her what the sermon was about later.

And Tara had to sit there, staring at her phone, trying to come up with some bullshit answer while still catching her breath.

Because she hadn't been in church.

She hadn't been in church.

She hadn't been praying.

She had been on her knees, mouth wrapped around your cocky little smirk, hands digging into your thighs. She had been moaning a name that wasn't his, head thrown back against the seat, panting like she had just run a marathon.

She had been gripping the leather interior with trembling fingers, legs wrapped around your head with the strength of metal bars, back arching so hard she thought she might snap in two.

And Chad had gone about his Sunday completely clueless.

___

"Fuck." Tara moaned, breath hitching, nails digging into your back as her head hit the window.

Like every other Sunday.

The windows were fogged up, streaked with condensation, the air inside thick with heat and the sharp scent of sweat.

The car rocked slightly with every movement, the backseat cramped but familiar, the leather sticking to her skin. It had been like this every time—fast, desperate, no hesitation.

You'd barely gotten inside before she was pulling you to the back, mouths crashing together, hands tugging at clothes, both of you too impatient to take your time.

Now, she was spread out beneath you, thighs trembling against your shoulders, fingers tangled in your hair as your tongue worked her over like you had all the time in the world.

Her skirt pushed up, undergarments long forgotten, her shirt still halfway on, bunched up under her ribs from when you'd shoved it out of the way. The feeling of your mouth on her was enough to send her spiraling, but it was the way you held her there—firm, unrelenting, like you had no plans of stopping anytime soon—that made her body shake with every flick of your tongue.

She could hear herself, the obscene wet sounds mixing with her ragged breaths, the moans she couldn't hold back no matter how hard she bit her lip. She had never sounded like this before, not with Chad, not with anyone.

It was a different kind of pleasure—overwhelming, raw, like her entire body was caught in a storm she couldn't control. Every Sunday, it was the same. You had her unraveling, melting under your touch, forgetting everything except the way you made her feel.

She didn't even realize she was grinding against your face until your grip tightened on her thighs, holding her still as you sucked at her clit just right. Her back arched, a sharp cry spilling from her lips, her mind blanking completely. Fuck. She was close. Already. Again. It was always like this with you.

And Chad had no idea.

Tara's head tilted back, lips parting, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. "Oh my—fuck, just like that—" Her voice broke around the words, half a moan, half a plea.

She could barely think, her mind slipping into static, body tightening under your touch. Every drag of your tongue sent another pulse of pleasure through her, her hands fisting the fabric of your jacket like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

The air was thick, heavy, carrying the sound of her moans, the quiet creak of the leather beneath her, the wet, obscene noises of your mouth working her over.

It should've been embarrassing—the way she was falling apart so quickly, the way she could already feel the heat coiling in her stomach, twisting tighter and tighter—but it wasn't. Not with you.

Your grip on her thighs tightened as you hummed against her, and Tara nearly lost it. A broken cry ripped from her throat, her body jerking, hips bucking up against your face. "Oh, shit—" Her fingers scrambled for something to hold onto, one slipping into your hair, gripping tight. "Don't stop—don't—"

Like you ever would.

She felt the way you smirked against her, cocky as ever, before your tongue flicked over her clit in slow, deliberate strokes that had her whimpering, her legs shaking. "Jesus, you're so—fuck." Her voice was wrecked, raw, words tumbling out before she could stop them.

She wanted to say something more—something coherent—but the way you sucked at her clit, the way your nails dug into her hips, the way she could already feel herself spiraling again—

She was gone.

Tara came with a strangled moan, her whole body tensing, back arching, thighs tightening around your head like she never wanted to let go. Her hands gripped your hair, pulling, as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her breathless, trembling. Her head lolled back against the window, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted as she tried to catch her breath.

And then she felt it—your hands smoothing over her thighs, your mouth pulling away, your breath warm against her skin. She forced her eyes open, still hazy, only to be met with your gaze—dark, intense, that fucking smirk tugging at your lips. Like you knew exactly what you'd just done to her.

But you weren't judging.

You just watched her, taking in the way she was still trying to recover, the way her chest rose and fell, the way her skin was flushed. Then, slowly, you dragged your hands down her legs, prying them from where they were still locked around you, letting them fall slack against the leather seat.

"So," you mused, voice low, teasing. "What excuse did you use this time?"

Tara bit her lip, still catching her breath, her fingers twitching against the seat as she let out a shaky little laugh. "Would you believe me if I said shopping?"

You raised an eyebrow, amused.

Shopping. That had been the excuse this time. And for a moment, Chad had actually questioned it—had cocked his head, confused, when she told him she was heading out alone. Shopping wasn't really her thing, at least not solo. But then he just shrugged, distracted by something on his phone, and that was that. No suspicion, no follow-up questions.

Tara had almost felt guilty for how easy it was. Almost.

She should have felt guilty now, too—sitting there, legs still weak, skin still flushed, while you smirked at her like you knew exactly how ruined she was.

But the moment she saw you shift, reaching for your bag, zipping it open with a deliberate slowness, guilt was the last thing on her mind.

"Well," you murmured, pulling something from inside, "I've done some shopping."

Tara's breath caught when she saw what it was.

A strap.

It was sleek, black, and bigger than Chad's actual one—noticeably so.

Tara swallowed. You and she had talked about this before. The first time you brought it up, she had barely hesitated before agreeing, because she had been sure—certain—that the whole P in V thing would be different with you. Better. More enjoyable. And after everything else you'd done to her, she had no doubt about that.

Still, she found herself shifting in place, heart picking up, torn between excitement and nerves. She hadn't done this with you before. Hadn't done this with any girl before. But fuck—just the sight of it, the thought of it, had heat curling low in her stomach all over again.

Tara gulped, eyes locked on the strap, but her mind was already ahead—already picturing it all before it even happened. How it would feel. How you would feel.

You didn't move yet. Just scanned her face, like you were waiting for some hesitation, some sign that she would be scared off. But she wasn't. She couldn't be.

Your smirk deepened, head tilting just slightly, the unspoken question clear in your eyes—want to?

Tara nodded. Too fast. Too desperate. She knew that. But she did.

So she moved without thinking, shifting onto all fours, her knees pressing into the worn leather of the backseat. Her back arched slightly, her hands splayed out in front of her as she tried to steady herself, breathing uneven.

Behind her, she could hear you—hear the rustle of fabric, the soft sound of buckles being adjusted, the quiet exhale you let out as you fit the strap into place. Then the warmth of your hand running down her back, over her hips, fingers brushing between her thighs before you paused.

Her stomach tensed at the thought. At the thought.

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists where they rested against the seat. Then your hands were on her again—trailing down her spine, over the curve of her hips, fingertips brushing against her thighs, teasing her. She shuddered at the touch, hips rolling back instinctively, already seeking more.

You let out a quiet chuckle, low and teasing, before pressing yourself against her, letting her feel the weight of it. She sucked in a breath, her entire body tightening at the sensation alone.

You asked if she was ready.

She barely managed to whisper yes before you pushed in.

Her mouth fell open, a sharp, broken sound leaving her as her body stretched around you. Her arms nearly gave out beneath her, and her head dropped forward, forehead pressing against the window.

It was almost like the pleasure rushed straight to her eyes, like it was so intense she couldn't even see for a moment—just a wave of heat, of pressure, of something she had never felt before.

The first thrust was slow, teasing, like you were letting her feel every inch of it before pulling back just as carefully. Even that had her sucking in a sharp breath, fingers twitching against the seat beneath her.

The stretch, the fullness—it was overwhelming in a way she hadn't expected. It was nothing like before. It was so much more. And when you did it again, thrusting just a little deeper, just a little harder, a gasp tore from her lips.

You didn't stop. Your hips snapped forward again, finding a rhythm that was steady but deep, every push forcing her further into the seat. The car rocked just slightly with each movement, the damp heat of the space making every sensation ten times more intense. The sounds of it—of skin meeting skin, of wet, filthy noises between her legs—filled her ears, mixed with the ragged breaths leaving both of you.

And the moans.

Tara bit her lip, trying to quiet herself, but it was impossible. A moan ripped from her throat as you hit a spot that made her whole body jolt, the muscles in her stomach tensing. Her head tipped forward, forehead pressing harder into the window, fogging it up even more. It was getting harder to hold herself up, her arms already trembling from the effort of staying up on all fours, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Not when you sounded like that.

The breathy little grunts leaving your lips—low and raspy, like you were getting just as lost in it as she was—made something coil tight in her stomach. She wished she could see you. She tried to picture your face behind her, how your brows must've been furrowed, how your mouth was probably open, panting, the way your jaw clenched every time she clenched around you.

"Jesus—" The word came out of her before she could stop it, breathless and desperate, her voice shaking. She felt you smirk against her back, your lips ghosting over her spine before nipping at her shoulder, sending a shiver down her body.

"What's wrong, baby?" you murmured, voice dripping with amusement.

Tara's breath hitched.

It wasn't just what you said. It was how you said it—so low, so full of amusement, like you knew exactly what you were doing to her, like you loved watching her fall apart beneath you. And baby. Fuck, she hadn't expected that. The way it sounded coming from your mouth—rough, teasing, possessive—sent heat surging through her body.

She whimpered, fingers clawing at the seat. Her hips rolled back against you, desperate, wordlessly begging for more.

Then.

A buzzing cut through the thick air, sharp and insistent, demanding attention.

Tara barely registered it at first, still too caught up in the aftershocks of everything—her heavy breathing, the way her body still pulsed around you, the lingering heat of your hands gripping her hips. But then you stopped moving, and her moan died in her throat, leaving only the sound of her own ragged breaths and that damn vibration filling the car.

Then she turned her head slightly, trying to glance back at you.

You didn't look worried. Not even a little. If anything, you looked amused. Your eyes gleamed with something dark, something teasing, as you tilted your head toward the phone in a silent suggestion. Check it.

Tara swallowed. Her whole body felt hot, sweat sticking to her skin, thighs still twitching around you. The last thing she wanted to do was answer her phone right now, but the vibrating didn't stop. Whoever it was, they weren't giving up.

She exhaled sharply, adjusting her weight on her knees before reaching forward, stretching as far as she could without moving off of you. It wasn't easy. Her back arched deeper, pushing her against you even more, making her even more aware of where you still were, thick and unmoving inside her.

She tried to keep quiet, to focus, but the angle sent a wave of pressure through her core, and a quiet, breathy moan slipped out before she could stop it.

She clenched her jaw, swallowing hard, and finally grasped the phone. Her fingers were slick with sweat, struggling to get a grip as she flipped it over in her palm. She held it tightly, worried it might slip right out of her hand with how weak she felt.

Her breath was uneven as she turned the screen over, eyes flicking to the caller ID.

Her stomach dropped.

Chad.

Tara's grip on the phone tightened as she stared at Chad's name on the screen, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

Her first thought was that she couldn't possibly answer. There was no way. Not like this—shaky, breathless, body still stretched and filled, the heat of you pressing against her skin. She wasn't even sure if she could form a coherent sentence right now, let alone talk to Chad without him immediately knowing something was off.

Slowly, as if in a daze, she tilted the phone just slightly so you could see.

Your gaze flicked down, taking in the name without any hint of concern, and Tara swore she saw the corner of your mouth twitch up like you were actually enjoying this. Like it amused you how completely fucked she was in this moment.

She gulped, feeling her breath hitch, fingers twitching around the device. Her mind spun, spiraling into every possible excuse she could come up with, every reason she had to not answer. Maybe she could just ignore it—say she was busy, say she didn't hear it, say her phone died. He wouldn't suspect anything, right? He never did. He never even—

Your voice cut through her thoughts, low and smooth. "Answer it."

Tara's breath caught in her throat. She blinked, eyes snapping to you, like she wasn't sure she'd heard you right. "What?"

Your smirk deepened. You leaned in, just enough for her to feel your breath ghost over her shoulder. And then, slower this time—deliberate, teasing, dripping with amusement—you repeated, "Answer the phone."

Her body tensed. Her stomach flipped. Her throat felt like it had closed up completely. There was no way. She shook her head, already stammering, "I—I can't—"

But before she could even finish, you gripped her hips and pulled her back onto the strap, burying yourself deeper with one swift motion.

Tara choked on a loud, surprised moan, her body jolting, the phone nearly slipping from her fingers.

She barely had a second to recover before your voice came again, low and firm and completely in control.

"Answer him, Tara."

So she did.

Because she couldn't say no to you—not when you made her feel like this. Not when her whole body was on fire, every nerve ignited, pulsing with heat. Not when you fucked her like you did, when you had her melting into every single touch, when you knew exactly how to make her fall apart.

Her finger shook as it hovered over the screen, hesitation tightening in her chest. But then, with a sharp inhale, she slid her thumb across to accept the call, bringing the phone up to her ear.

The device was warm, heated from the stuffy air in the car, and when it pressed against her flushed skin, she felt the contrast—felt just how overheated she was, how wrecked she already looked. Her breath wavered as she tried to pull herself together, forcing a swallow past the lump in her throat.

Then, as steadily as she could manage—sweet, happy, normal—she breathed out a soft, "Hi, baby."

It almost sounded real. Almost. If not for the slight tremble in her voice, the way it wavered at the edges, betraying her.

Chad didn't seem to notice. "Hey, babe," he greeted easily, his voice light and casual. "You still at the mall? They're closing soon, just wondering when you're heading back."

Tara's stomach twisted. Still at the mall. She barely stopped herself from laughing at the irony. She hadn't been anywhere near the mall. She hadn't been walking around all day, hadn't spent the afternoon wandering stores, browsing through clothes, or carrying shopping bags.

No, she'd spent it in your lap. On her back, on her knees, on all fours. She'd spent it with your hands all over her, your mouth on her, making her come over and over again until her legs had trembled and she thought she might actually black out from the intensity of it.

Chad kept talking, completely oblivious. "Mindy and Anika are having a movie night. Thought we could go, but if you're too tired from walking around all day, I get it."

Tara parted her lips, just about to answer—

And then you moved.

Her breath hitched violently as you pushed back inside her, slow but deep, making her grip the phone tighter. Her eyes fluttered, jaw clenching as she struggled not to react.

You weren't done with her. Not even close.

Her head dipped forward, eyes squeezing shut as you dragged out again, the pace torturously slow. She could hear it, could hear how wet she was, how easily you moved inside her, and the realization sent another wave of heat crashing through her body.

She started nodding—at nothing, at Chad's words, at whatever he was saying—just to distract herself. Just to have something to focus on besides the way you were ruining her.

But then you picked up the pace.

Faster. Harder.

Tara's breathing grew heavier, her mouth falling open as her fingers gripped the phone like a lifeline.

Chad finished talking, clearly waiting for a response.

She gulped, trying to focus, trying so hard to make her voice sound normal.

"Y-yeah, uhm—"

Her breath caught, her body jerking as you rolled your hips just right. She had to bite her lip—hard—to keep herself from making a sound.

You weren't making it easy.

You were deep, hitting the perfect spot every single time, making her entire body feel like it was burning.

Her lips trembled, fingers tightening around the phone as she struggled to push out the words. "I'd—" she inhaled sharply, voice breaking, "—I'd love to go."

Her thighs twitched. She tried so hard to keep herself still, to not move against you, to not push back for more.

She could feel your smirk. Could practically hear the amusement in the way you exhaled through your nose, in the way you didn't stop, didn't slow down.

She sucked in another shaky breath.

"I—" she panted, each syllable shaky, "I'm leaving soon. I'll—" her voice hitched again as you thrust just right, "—I'll text you when I-I'm done."

There was a short pause before Chad's voice came through again, casual, completely unaware.

"Why are you so out of breath?"

Tara's heart practically stopped.

She had to think fast. Her brain scrambled for something, anything, that would make sense, that would explain why she sounded like this.

"I—" her voice wavered, still breathless, "I'm just—trying to make it to Nordstrom before they close."

The lie slipped out before she could even process it.

And the worst part?

He fucking believed it.

"Alright," he said, not suspicious at all. Not even a little. "Just text me when you're on your way home."

Tara could barely focus, barely even hear him over the pounding of her own heart.

And then—then—he added it. The three words she'd been waiting for, dreading, knowing it was coming.

"I love you."

Tara squeezed her eyes shut. "I love you too," she panted out, forcing the words past her lips, rushing to get it over with—

But then you thrust forward. Hard.

So fucking hard.

A sharp cry ripped from her throat before she could stop it, before she could even think. It wasn't just a moan—it was loud, raw, completely unfiltered, and so obviously not the sound of someone running through a mall.

Her eyes flew open, her whole body freezing as panic crashed over her like a wave.

Oh, fuck.

Her mouth hung open, heart hammering, hands clenching around the phone. She felt like she couldn't breathe.

"What the fuck was that?" He let out a small laugh. Not mad. Not suspicious. Just genuinely confused.

Tara's stomach twisted.

She could feel your breath against her skin. Could feel the way you stilled, the way you were watching her, waiting to see what she'd say.

Her brain was a fucking mess, completely scrambled, thoughts running too fast, too panicked.

She had to fix this.

Quickly, she squeezed her eyes shut again. "I stubbed my toe," she rushed out, her voice tight, breathless. Then she forced out a hiss through her teeth, as if to sell it. "Fuck, that hurt."

Chad chuckled on the other end of the line, that same stupid little laugh of his that made Tara's stomach twist. Completely oblivious. Completely unaware of what was happening, what had been happening for weeks now. "God, babe, you're so clumsy."

Tara barely managed to force out a weak "Mhm." It was all she could get out without completely giving herself away.

But the truth was, that sound wasn't for him.

It was for you.

Because she was desperate.

And she needed you to keep going.

She was so fucking close—every muscle in her body was tensed, her thighs trembling where they pressed against the leather seats, her breath coming out in shallow little gasps as she tried to keep some level of composure. And you knew it. You fucking knew it.

She felt the way your hands flexed against her waist, felt the teasing drag of your fingertips as they traced up her stomach, slow, calculated, making her shiver. Felt the way your hips barely moved now, holding back, waiting, making her want to fucking scream.

She wasn't going to make it if Chad kept talking.

Her jaw clenched, and she could already feel herself slipping, feel the heat pooling lower, spreading through her entire body. The pleasure was too much, too overwhelming, and she couldn't be on the phone with Chad when she came.

Her fingers gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white, the screen slick against her sweaty palm. She couldn't even register what Chad was saying anymore, his voice a distant, meaningless hum in the background.

"Well, alright," he finally said, sounding distracted, like he was half paying attention, "just hurry up before they start the movie without us."

You shifted behind her, your fingers pressing just a little harder against her burning skin, and Tara's breath hitched.

She couldn't do this anymore.

Her voice came out rushed, breathless, almost strained—"Yeah, I will—bye."

She fumbled with the phone, barely managing to end the call before her entire body gave out, slumping forward onto her forearms as she let out a shaking exhale.

And then, the second the call disconnected, you slammed into her again.

Her forehead pressed against the window as she let out a choked gasp, her entire body trembling. She was so fucking close—so close she could taste it, feel it in every inch of her, her thighs burning, her back arching as she tried to push herself back against you.

She wasn't even thinking anymore. Couldn't think.

Not with how fucking deep you were, how perfectly you hit every spot inside her that had her toes curling and her fingers twitching uselessly against the seat.

She felt your hands tighten around her hips, grounding her, holding her exactly where you wanted her. And then—

"Good job, baby."

Tara's breath stuttered.

"You did so good."

And that—that was the last straw.

Her entire body tensed, pleasure hitting her so hard it nearly knocked the air from her lungs. And then she broke.

She came with a loud, uncontrollable moan, her back arching, her arms giving out beneath her. The orgasm ripped through her in wave after wave of unbearable pleasure, leaving her shaking, gasping, crying out as you kept going, dragging it out, making it last until she couldn't even fucking breathe.

The car was silent except for the sound of heavy breathing. Tara felt like she could still hear the blood rushing through her ears, her body tingling in the aftermath. She barely registered the feeling of you pulling out until the loss of contact made her whimper slightly, her legs trembling as she collapsed fully onto the seat beneath her.

Her arms felt weak. Her thighs burned. And her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. You weren't much better, panting as you sat back, but fuck—Tara was completely spent.

Still, she did what she always did. Without a word, she forced herself to sit up on shaking arms and began fixing her clothes, her fingers clumsily pulling her underwear back up, straightening her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles in her shirt. She was still flushed, her skin still burning, and her hair was an absolute mess, but at least she didn't look completely wrecked.

You watched her, an amused glint in your eyes, and then, just as she was running her fingers through her tangled hair, you smirked.

"How's that toe you stubbed?"

Tara froze for a second, then let out a breathless laugh, rolling her eyes as she shoved you lightly. "Fuck you," she muttered, but there was no real heat behind it—just the kind of teasing exasperation that made you grin wider.

She reached down, grabbing her shoes from where they had ended up discarded on the floor. She slipped them on, lacing up her white Converse with slightly shaky fingers. When she was done, she glanced back at you, hesitating for just a second before pushing open the car door.

The cool night air hit her instantly, and she took a deep breath, stepping out onto the pavement. But before she shut the door, she turned back around, looking at you over her shoulder.

"Next Sunday?"

You smirked, leaning back against the seat as you met her gaze.

"Next Sunday."

And with that, she shut the door and walked away.

[jk-kiwi]

Warmth of December

Warmth of December (18+) Characters - Sergeant JK x Y/N reader (woman) Genre - slow burn (?), strangers to lovers, basically everything is war themed, the story takes place in old time but is not an accurate representation of real life events, pretty much an old mentality on how things should be and about how people should act, THIS is fiction.  

Summary - Everyone wants a chance at freedom once a brutal war starts taking place, this also means that taking risks and dangerous paths is part of it. But what would you do when a chance for survival appears before you? Will you reach out and take it? Warnings - war stuff (blood, death, mentions bad things done to women, weapons and fights, etc.), angst, drama, fluff, fictional characters, 5 years age gap (20/25), older Jk, suggestive/smut, Jk is kinda cocky/arrogant and sometimes a jerk, he gets better after a while and becomes a total sweetheart, Jk hits a women once (not you), mentions of enslavement, women are kinda treated like objects that have no function other than being obedient housewives that must listen to their husband, mention of chastity/virginity, a lot of mixed feelings, slight aggression towards the reader, mentions of pregnancy.

MINORS PLEASE STAY AWAY! Warnings for the not so holy parts (18+) - they get naked in front of each other without doing it, mentions of soft and hard manhood as well as female parts, reader is inexperienced, they take things slow at first, it’s consensual, I won’t detail what I’m about to write because I’m embarrassed so read at your own risk, no heavy/crazy stuff though I think, they do it 3 times along the story (once outside), has some other suggestive parts. X<

Author’s note - Y/L/N Y/N stands for your first and last name. Also, NEVER in my life have I written smut, first time so don’t come for me if it’s bad, please. BTW It’s been a while since I’ve written something, this is also the longest one I've ever wrote till now. If there are any mistakes please let me know!

Enjoy!  Word count - 19k

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30 August 1955

“Keep quiet!” Poor heart beating out of your chest.

Step by step and you were almost out of this hell hole. You started clenching your long skirt tighter while the other three girls were following tightly through the thick blanket of rusty leaves. Escaping through the forest was not an easy task, especially for young women and since this damned war has started, more and more people seek liberty and justice. 

But it’s not that easy to seek freedom.

Around every corner you can find soldiers waiting to attack, and once you get caught by one of them, it’s game over. Dragged in a hidden place, if not taken right there and then for their own sick pleasure, losing all hope of a good life and just succumbing to the dark and shameful path you will have to live, if they pity you enough to let you do so.  

Every person wants a chance at freedom after all, right?  And because of this you are forced to take the risk. Either make it safe over the border, through the woods and get to a small town where you can start your life all over, or fall into the hands of the devil himself.  “I’m scared…” The youngest one of us, Mai, says, tears pooling in her eyes. At only 16 years old she’s forced to take such harsh decisions in order to gain safety. 

“Calm down, if you make too much noise we will get caught, that’s what you should be truly scared about.” Yun-Mi tries to reassure her, hoping she will calm down and not get us in trouble. With cold hands you push the bushes in front of our faces and look over to the hill we have to go across. Over the sun covered land we can see the thick border of trees, that’s it! That’s the last part we have to cross. After days of hiding and countless sleepless nights of looking around, we have finally made it.

”That’s it, right Y/N? That’s the border.” Jia, the oldest one exclaims in eagerness. “Yes, after that…we are finally free.” You can say, slight uneasiness crawling into your head, almost like you could predict something bad was going to happen. The three girls smile and hug each other, happy that they finally can get away from what the war has brought. “Let’s go then, what are we waiting for?!”

Oh, only if it was that easy. Perhaps this was the hardest part of all, beside the fact that this area was the most watched over because many attempted to cross over, the emptiness of the hill made the perfect chance of being spotted.

“Let’s go by the tree line, it’s much safer.” With a plan set, You try to take the lead.

Safe to say, the place looked deserted, the sun was almost setting and the only thing you could hear was the gentle sound of the wind. It was dangerous, luring people with its quiet demeanor, thinking you are safe until you wake up on the ground with a gushing gunshot wound and one or more soldiers on top of your body. With slow and steady steps the four of you go along the tree line, skirts raised above the knee level. If the nuns at church you used to live all these years would see, they for sure would pass out. 

“It seems clear.” Jia point’s out, looking around. And so you thought, until your head turned to look through the thick tree trunks, scanning the area below. In a split second making eye contact with a guy who was down at the river, he was watching you. 

Your blood ran cold, his head turned sideways, almost confused like, wondering if his mind was playing tricks. But when you saw him take his rifle out looking through the scope to confirm that what was happening was, in fact, the horrifying truth you will be living. “Get on the ground.” You managed to mutter when you saw him signal to someone while taking better aim, a horrifying grin spread across his face. 

“What?” The others ask. Your cold hands grab Mai by the shoulder, pulling her down with you, while yelling at the other two. “Get on the ground, now!” With your head down the only thing you could hear was a deafening shot. Looking back you see Jia holding her arm, bright red liquid staining the white fabric of her dress. All four of you fall to the ground, screaming and crying, finally grasping the situation. 

You try to keep composure, to look for a place to hide, but you were like a lost bunny that just fell into their prey's trap.

Dragging Mai away, Yun-Mi helping Jia follow, even though she screamed in pain and wiggled in shock. Looking around you try to find the best spot to hide, already hearing their footsteps getting closer. Still, you had some time to try and get away. 

“There!” you point at the overgrown bushes and piles of dead leaves and branches. They for sure will think you ran away and not look through the debris. So you get close, Yun-Mi stuffs Jia’s mouth with her apron to try to stop her screaming. 

“Keep quiet! They're going to catch us!” she manages to whisper, the girl nods and swallows the fear and pain she feels knowing this is the only chance for survival. And then you see one, pretty tall and muscular, a dark green hat covering his eyes, weapon in hand looking ready to strike anytime, clearly a soldier. Close to him another wonders, looking around cautiously trying to think of your steps.

You cuddle closer, hiding away in the leaves, eyes shutting tight holding your breaths. 

The two boys go down the path, while a surprising third goes up the hill towards the borders to check. That’s it, that’s our end. Knowing you are close they will continue to search until they find you, and then, God forbid, what’s going to happen. You try to think of a strategy, head running wild with possible solutions, in your madness I barely notice Yun-Mi’s hand tagging lightly on your skirt. “Y/N…” she whispers and then gulps. And so you open your eyes to see another pair in front, big and dark eyes scanning you like a predator. You reach under your dirty apron and slowly pull out the emergency knife you carried all this way, pointing it in his direction. He chuckles and tilts his head, amused by your bold reaction.

“Leave us alone!” You say, seeing his tongue pushing the inside of his cheek, his gaze still curious, but instead of doing something the only thing does is look around for his mates. 

That’s our chance! 

In an instant you try to launch at him and hit with the knife. With one hand he catches your arm, making the knife hit the ground. 

You wince in pain and he does not stop his actions, one of his knees presses over the knife while he maneuvers you around, your face hitting the ground roughly. 

You try to resist, but he catches your other hand and straddles your back making you unable to move under his heavy weight. 

“Get away from her!” Mai tries to come closer to hit him but his hands are quick, taking his pistol and pointing in her direction. “Have any other surprises left in you, pretty girl?” He says, hands starting to wander under my apron searching for other potential weapons making you feel disgusted. 

Though in fear, Yun-Mi drags her shaking body over, begging the man on her knees, her voice soft. “Please, I beg you, let her go!” The others crying too, probably aware of what was about to happen, seeing their fate being sealed through what was happening to you. “I have no intention of doing that, but I must say, you are some brave girls. Going around all this road for a chance to escape, on your own? No other man? Just four young girls.” He laughs a little, chilling your bones.

“Must say you have a lot of balls. You know what happens to people like you, right? If not, then I can only warn…not nice things.” He rises a bit, letting go of your arms, pistol pointed at the back of your head.

“Turn around, I want to see your face.” You obey and turn around, the man still on top of you, his eyes boring along your body making you avoid his gaze.

“Hmm, not bad. How old are you? 18, 19?” Rough hand comes in contact with your face wiping the debris that got stuck before gripping at your jaw, turning your head to look at him.

“I asked you a question, therefore you should respond. Aren’t you in a bad position? Why are you making stuff harder for yourself?”. “I’ve just turned 20.” You spit through clenched teeth.  

He hums, seeming satisfied with the response. In a flash he gets off of you, putting his pistol back in his carrier, taking the knife from the grass. Quick footsteps being heard in the distance. 

“Sergeant! Have you found them?! We lost track!” An older guy approaches you. “Yes, four of them, pretty young. All girls by the way.” He says boringly. 

“Oh my! They really are pretty. What a delight.” Three other guys gather from behind, eyes praying over you, their faces plastered with sinister grins. “So, what do we do with them, sergeant?” asks another impatiently, hoping to get a green card for some potential hideous actions. The guy who found you, despite his appearance, looked to be the youngest, but also seems to be the leader. 

His body was pretty muscular, black hair almost covering his eyes, one of his hands covered in tattoos. He looked at you and caught your gaze again. You can see how his hand dips in his military jacket, searching for something before responding to his mates. 

“To be honest, we should follow the rules, right? All that are caught are enslaved, no other funny businesses." The three whine but obey his orders. 

His body crouches to your level, putting the knife under your chin making you gasp and close your eyes.”But I feel a little pleased with today's catch. To see such young women trying to fight for their lives in such a brutal world, tsk tsk, truly a pity.” He pushes the knife upwards, making you tilt your head with it. 

“Who wants to live from here?” He says delighted, devious plan coming together in his mind. 

Is he a sadist or what? Playing with your feelings for his own pleasure, enjoying seeing you suffer and making you beg for him to let you live?

The three girls start begging, even Jia, who’s body became pale from all the blood loss, raises her hands to pray for forgiveness in front of the soldiers. So you do what seems the best option, you wrap your hands around his one that holds the knife, pressing lightly, but enough feeling a warm droplet of blood drip down. “Would you look at that?” He doesn't even flinch, but you could see his muscles contracting in trying to hold the knife steady. “Let go. Do you want to die?” His face was stern, but amusement was growing behind his facade. “Yes, I would rather die than get dragged to who knows where, letting man touch and spoil me over and over like a slut! I refuse to go to that hell, so kill me!”

He snatches the knife away, your head hitting his knee from lack of balance. You could hear his laugh seeing how pathetic you are in front of him. “You know…I really like you, very bold.” He gets up from the ground, his hand throws the thing he searched from under his jacket in your lap. You take it in your hands, it was a cold, shiny and silvery tag. It reads “Sergeant” on one side, with a few stars engraved showing his status, on the other side it’s only what I can figure it’s his name “Jeon Jungkook”. You look up at him, hands holding the cold chain, already knowing what it meant. He smiles cockily at you.

“Congratulations! I think you can call yourself a lucky lady, you know. If you think the place I was supposed to shove you was hell, then what can I say baby, I guess I just brought you back to heaven.” He says delightedly, before signaling his man to take your friends. 

You can hear them screaming and crying, trying desperately to free the grip these devils had on them. You bow your head down, refusing to witness the grotesque scene unfolding in front of your eyes. Jungkook comes over and with one arm he snatches you from the ground. “You need to wear it sweetheart, people will grow suspicious otherwise.” He puts the necklace over your head, sealing your faith as well. “Let’s go.” He says while dragging you with him, from now on his property to mess with. You tried to feel even in the slightest relieved, you were given a chance at a new life after all, right? 

The silver military pendant is only given as a token of proof for married women with high military men, showing their status and letting others know not to mess with them. But why did this feel different? Why you?

“I should be happier.”, that’s what you told yourself…happier that you lost your friends? Or that you are at the hand of such a man, someone you don’t know, that could use you like a puppet whenever he wants? 

You should've just taken the chance and stabbed yourself right there and then, only if you weren't such a coward. In the end, you just followed him around like a lost puppy, letting him drag you where he wanted, your body and soul now his to play with. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Shortly you two arrived at what seems to be a military camp, night already setting in. Your friends, nowhere to be found. 

The guy presumably named Jungkook took you to one of the tents, his by the looks of it. 

“We will leave tomorrow morning, I will show you where to wash up and I will bring you some clothes to wear.” He took off his jacket and boots laying back on the singular bed while you stayed close to the entrance, like a lost lamb. “Why are you doing this to me?” You ask quietly, breaking the silence, your eyes staring at the ground. Jungkook only sighed, didn't even bother to look your way. “You said you don’t want to go there, didn’t you? I fulfilled your wishes so be happy. You are not there, are you?” You didn’t know what to say or do, why did he even want to do this in the first place, it didn’t make any sense. “It does not make sense to me. Do you save all types of girls this way? If so, why not my friends too.” Now his attention was full on you, he sat up and looked at your figure. 

“Are you always such a pain? You got it better than the others, I gave you my tag, you get to marry a high rank military man, everyone is happy!” 

I scoff “I am not! I don’t understand your reasoning in wanting to marry me in the first place, I am just a low commoner that is basically a run-away! Why did you decide to save me and where did your men take my friends!” I ask authoritatively.  Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. “You really are a pain! If I knew I would’ve never taken you, maybe the crybaby would’ve been better.” He mutters the last part, but you hear it anyway. “I don’t need a reason to do this, I just wanted to. End of discussion.” He says making you look away annoyed. 

You see him get up, his body coming closer to yours. 

“Also, you better not tell a soul about this. If they ask, I just found you in a village and took you over because I fell in love with you, understood?” His presence was scary all of a sudden. Tall frame hovering over yours, dark eyes staring dangerously. 

“I saved you, so you owe me. If you say you wanted to cross the border and I took you in out of pity, or anything else that will bring trouble to me…then I will not hesitate to send you to a place worse than hell itself.”

You gulped even though your throat felt dry, he was intimidating.

“Those girls are not your friends anymore, we don’t speak of them, and if you want to live good then you follow what I say and are obedient to my words, understood?” His hand comes over to grab your cheek, not as rough as before, but with much more authority. You can only comply under his underwhelming presence. 

“Understood…” And with that he grabs your hand and a set of clothes, taking you to where the shower area is. 

… “So what do you think, prestigious?” He asks while you look around scanning the area. It was not much, but decent enough. It felt more like a communal shower than the prestigious luxury he was talking about. A simple room with a few shower heads and walls for a bit of privacy.

“You can shower wherever, the water is a little cold, but it’s still August, you should be fine.” And so you go behind the wall, slowly starting to undress. That is until you hear a whistle from behind the wall. 

“Why are you still here?!” You ask in horror only to make him laugh in response, already enjoying the situation. “I can’t let you THAT alone, what if you run away?”. “Don’t worry though, I promise I won’t peek, I’ll have all the time in the world to gush over your body.” He says suavely, making you gasp 

“I can’t do this like that! I am a woman after all, what about my chastity? Have a little decency!” You say in rage “And how can you even say such lewd words!”

“Relax, I will just stay here. I won’t just barge in like an animal. Plus isn’t it better? What if someone else decides to come and shower? You’ll be my wife soon, I will have to carve their eyes out if they see it before I do.” You were disgusted to say the least, such unscrupulous man. You sigh and with the little patience you had you decided that maybe it was for the best and just went with it. Jungkook seemed to keep his promise, every now and then your head peeking to look at what was he doing. 

He was leaning on the wall, arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed, he seemed tired. The peace around you was nice, but part of you was also longing for some discussion. 

After all, he was the first person to talk after all this time, of course, other than your now “not to speak of” friends. 

So you decided to break that silence and try to get to know him a little. “So, I should get to know you a little, I think.” Jungkook only hummed. “Jeon Jungkook is your name, as I recall from the tag, also a sergeant?” 

“Yup, I am him in flesh and bones.” “How old are you?” “24, 25 soon.” He was pretty stiff with his answers, but at least you hoped he responded honestly to your questions. 

You tried to think of some more stuff to ask, but Jungkook beat you to it. “How about you, I responded to all your questions, but I don’t even know your name.” “My name is Y/L/N Y/N” you tell him. “Pretty name.” He adds.

“So…Y/N, where are you from and why did you decide on doing these things?” You close the water and grab the towel Jungkook prepared. 

Sitting deep in thoughts while drying your hair, the bathroom became quiet.

 “It’s fine if you don’t want to say, I was just curious.” You can hear him taking a big breath of air before his steps start taking towards the door, he was leaving. “From a small village in the south.” You bluntly say, making the man stop in his tracks, his back facing you.

“I don’t have a family if you’re wondering, I grew up in the church. I wanted a better life since there was only misery there, that’s why I left.” 

You see the boy turn around, his eyes scanning your body, only wrapped in the towel, small droplets of water falling from your hair to the ground.

“It’s not polite to look at a girl like this, I didn’t wear my clothes yet so please just turn back around.” Embarrassment and shyness take over when you feel his deep stare, never being watched as exposed as now. 

He complies however, turning his body around, staying in front of the door, almost looking like he’s guarding it. 

“I see, so you are a church girl.” He snickers “I figured since I’ve seen you for the first time, the clothes gave it away pretty well, not to mention you look scared every time I get an inch closer.” “Is that a bad thing?” You ask. 

“Nope. Just so you know, I’m not exactly into practicing stuff like this, does not match my personality.” He says before exiting. Letting you put on some clothes, most probably his.

“How did you become a sergeant at such young age?” You cautiously ask him while going back to the tent. “My dad is the general of the east side of the army, I worked hard to match his steps, but in the end I got stuck as a sergeant and was given my pluton.” 

The man opened the tent to let you enter, him following right after. 

“How are you not married yet? Especially having such a function and family, aren’t girls throwing themselves at you at any given chance?” Your bold question takes him by surprise.

“You became even bolder I see, already asking me personal stuff? Are you worried I have a wife and kids at home?” He asks cockily, making you look back at him with wide eyes.

Sure you have your doubts, but your thoughts were still pure, asking just to get to know him better. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think my question was intrusive. I wasn’t under any means doubting you!” I rush to say, my cheeks heating up making him chuckle again. 

“Don’t be so stiff, sugar. I was just playing around. Plus, you have the tag, don’t you, so no other women are involved.” He closes the tent behind him, inside only the small oil lamp give in some light.

Without care he starts pulling at his t-shirt, leaving his upper body exposed in your sight.  

Your eyes go wide, cheeks brighter than they were already, your hands fly up to cover up your vision. “Oh my lord! Have some decency, I am also here!” 

In the end you close your eyes and turn your back to him. However, when you can feel his muscular chest stick to your back you stiffen up. 

He leans down, his breath gently caressing your neck. “I wonder what are you going to do after we get married? Hide around and let me play catch with you, little one?” You gulp down, pressing your legs to the nightstand in front of you, his hands come from behind resting on the wooden surface, your face pure red now.

“You know…you’ll have duties to take care of as a wife, I am a man after all, I have my needs.” His lips brush ever so slightly to the side of your neck, leaving a lingering feeling on your soft skin. You never felt like this before.

“Jungkook…please...” You breathlessly say while trying to get away from his hot embrace. But he only chuckles once again getting away from you. 

You can’t turn around, eyes fixed on the back of your hands while you can hear him taking his shirt on again and searching for a new set to wear. “I’ll go wash up too, go to sleep and don’t think of running away. This is my camp, I’ll find you.” 

And so he leaves. With shaky legs you lay on his bed. It smelled manly, a little bit like the forest, but it also had a sweet scent to it. Soon you get engulfed by the peace and quiet around, finally falling asleep in the comfort of his scent. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you woke up in the morning, Jungkook wasn't there. You can’t recall him entering the tent after he left for the shower nor getting close to you again. But soon enough his footsteps enter the confined space making you sit up. 

“Slept well?” He asked while starting to gather his stuff, putting everything into a big wood box. You just stared at him blankly trying to process everything happening. 

“I asked if you slept well, sugar.” That damned nickname again. “Yeah, I guess you could say so, better than caves and leaf beds.” He hums, pleased. “Then we should get going, people are waiting for us back in the city.” He throws next to you what seems to be your clothes, now washed and dried overnight.

You go out after you’re done and with Jungkook’s help you step for the first time in a car. 

You can see some men get in the front seats while others help boarding up all types of boxes and gear.

“Do we leave for good?” I ask looking outside the window “Do you want to live in the forest?” He says mockingly. “When I said you were lucky it wasn’t a joke, today we are supposed to swap places with another pluton, if you were to cross today, your fate wouldn’t be as lucky.” 

You didn’t know what to say after that, part of you wanted to let Jungkook know you are at least a little thankful for his acts, but your mind drifts to the thoughts of Mai, Yun-Mi and Jia. You hope they are safe.

Jungkook forbade you to talk about them, telling you that his man won’t dare to stand in front of him, let alone say something about what happened. And safe to say he ensured that if you were smart enough you would live a peaceful and decent life by his side, outside of ruins and misery. … Entering the city you were slightly mesmerized, it was not of luxury, but at least it wasn’t run down or bombarded like the place you came from. 

You stopped after a long ride in front of a pretty big house, with a beautiful front garden and even a fountain and a swing on the side. 

“We are here” Jungkook said, getting out of the car and helping you out, once again, showing a warmer side to you. “What is this place?” You asked, looking around, trying to take in every detail. 

“It’s my family’s house, let’s get inside.” But before you could take on, a lady’s screams could be heard.

“Jungkook, my days, you’re back!” The lady, looking young as well, with long and black hair flowing down her shoulders, beautiful clothes and even well done make-up jumped in his arms, hugging him tight, her lips coming in contact with his cheek.

“Hey! Long time no see!” Jungkook hugged back, bright smile on his face, and for the first time you felt weird, almost…small like. 

Yes, you only knew him for a day, but the fact that he wants to marry you out of the blue yet he’s having women jump him right when he arrives home makes you feel just a little strange, like you didn’t fit in the picture. “I thought you weren't coming back this month at how long it took! Did you eat well? You seem a little thinner than last time I saw you.” The woman lets go of him with one arm, starting to feel around his biceps for any muscle loss. Jungkook smiles even more, his head bowing a little, letting a giggle out. “I’m fine, Yuna, just tough business getting the best of me.” The girl named Yuna seems to finally notice your awkward presence, she tilts her head, eyes locking into yours, her smile disappearing quickly. “Who is she?” 

Finally the two part ways and Jungkook remembers that he also brought you along. “A shit, yes, I almost forgot.” He clears his throat scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

Coming closer he is taking your hand in his. “Yuna, this is Y/N.” 

His hand brushes over your shoulder coming in contact with the metal chain that rests on the base of your neck, pulling from under your ragged clothes his military tag. 

Yuna’s eyes widen when she sees you wearing his necklace, her body stiffening. You can’t help but feel like an intruder under her burning gaze. She tries to put on a smile, forced by any means. “So, you’re getting married…” That’s the only thing that managed to come out of her mouth. Jungkook smiles at you and says breathlessly “Yeah.” 

What a play pretend…

“That’s…wonderful news! I kept wondering when this was going to happen, being away from me and home all the time, I knew you would find someone to take your heart. I am so happy for you two!” Tears almost started forming in her eyes, but probably you were the only one to notice since Jungkook only thanked her lightly and started going towards the house, with your hand in his.

… “Don’t worry about meeting my father, he might seem stern, but he’s not a bad guy.” He instructs you 

“Yes.” “And don’t think he won’t like you because you are not rich or something, I am pretty sure he will be happy to know I found someone to love, even though it’s just a facade for us.” He whispers the last part.

“Yes, sure.” You were out of it, mind going blank now that you were here. He gave a small squish to your hand trying to knock some courage into you and knocked on the door, entering with you behind. “General!” He saluted, letting go of your hand, and waited for what seemed an order. “It’s fine, son, you are dismissed for today!” He got up from the chair and came over to pat him on the back. 

“I heard you did very well at the border, less people managed to escape this month, good job.” He smiled warmly. 

“Thank you, father.” They engage in some conversation that you don’t really grasp.

Instead, you stare at the ground hearing how he is so praised for doing such “horrible” things. 

Yes, it was his job after all, you knew it already. But it still felt painful thinking of all the other people that didn’t manage to escape. They exchanged some more words before his father’s eyes laid on you, same questions addressed, same acts put up. 

You only smiled at him, being as polite as possible while staying in front of such a big figure in the community. “You’re getting married!” He exclaimed with a big smile on his face when Jungkook points at the dangling tag you wear. 

“Oh thank the lord! It was about time, Jungkook!” 

Both of you were pretty embarrassed to say the least, his dad was already making plans on when the wedding should take place, where you two should stay and how many grandchildren he wanted, but to your relief Jungkook cut him short.

“Next week father, no fancy stuff, no big parties, I just want to get it done fast.” And so his smile witheres. 

“But son, this is your wedding! You will only have one, it can’t just be like this, you are a general’s son and also a highly respected member of the community!” His father argued, definitely not pleased by his son’s roughness in handling such a “big” event.

“I don’t care, I just want it done fast, you know I am not the man to celebrate such stuff. I just want to focus on future work and…my wife.” His eyes met yours, they looked brighter at you, reassuring even, making you wonder why is he so good at pretending. 

“But how about her, Y/N is this what you also want?” Your future “husband” looked a little stressed when you were addressed with such questions, not knowing whether you will comply with his act or not.

Smiling bright, you chuckle before responding. “Yes, sir, if this is what my husband wants I will comply, I trust his decisions.” You could finally see his features softening a little, relieved and happy with your answer. 

“Then…it’s set. It might not be what I dreamed of for you, but if you are fine like this then I will ask the priest to officiate the ceremony next week and move you into an apartment downtown.”

He smiled at us one last time, exchanging a few more words with his son and making the arrangements for our future before letting some maids show me around. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

7 September 1955

The days have gone by quicker ever since you got into the city. You had a nice room where you stayed alone since Jungkook’s father said it’s immoral for the both of you to share the bed before being properly wed. The food was plenty and also the facilities were high quality, and the people around seemed decently kind.

The only downside, if you could call it like this, is you haven’t seen Jungkook as often since he’s apparently very busy all the time.

However, you had your chance at speaking with some of the people around his house, collecting crumbs about him and what he truly is like. 

The place was nice, and soon you started to feel much more at peace with the future life you were going to live, finding out that despite his appearance and inappropriate runny mouth, he was a well raised man. Right now you are standing in front of a mirror, dressed in a simplish white gown, hair and make-up perfectly done and a bouquet of white flowers in your hand. This was your big day, and looking back on what happened not long ago made you realize how much you've already changed.

After today you will not be a little kid anymore, you won’t need to run away or plan a better future. Still, everything is making you unsure, giving yourself away like this, for a man you barely knew made you just a little sad. “Are you ready? Oh my, how pretty you look!” In the time you spent at Jungkook’s house you managed to get along with an older lady, Miss Min, someone that knew him ever since he was a young child. 

You talked a little and bonded over tea and biscuits in the afternoon. She was the only one that really acknowledged your presence since Yuna only gave you stingy glares and huffed when you asked her little things, clearly not being fond of you, and the others only greeted and shied away knowing you will be a sergeant’s wife. “I think I am.” You said, going over the bottom of the dress once again, making sure there are no wrinkles and then taking a deep breath. Miss Min accompanied you to the church's door, where Jungkook’s father was waiting. Since you didn’t have any parental figure next to you, he took it upon himself to lead you to the altar. Inside the place was beautiful, there was some music playing in the background, and all of the people Jungkook knew were here, everyone was either a friend or relative to him. 

His father led you to him and you took his hand into yours. Looking around once again you felt alone. His smile was reassuring in a way, trying to calm your nerves down, but you just felt empty. The ceremony went over almost too fast, the priest said what he was supposed to say until now, the moment everyone was waiting for. “Do you, Jeon Jungkook, take Y/L/N Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?” 

“Yes!” 

And then he repeats his sentence, your eyes looking into Jungkook’s. Silence took over the place waiting for your response.

What should you do next? Say yes? If this was the answer, it felt wrong. 

You could feel a squish of your hands bring you back to where you are, the reality you are supposed to live, his eyes looking sternly while waiting for your answer letting you know that blowing your cover up now was not a good idea. “Yes.” And yes you say, people cheer, but there is no smile on your face. 

In other words, you feel like crying. 

Why were you doing this? Why are you marrying this man? The ceremony continues, vows are exchanged, vows that are fake, rings are exchanged, rings that just trap you into this unreal story, tied to a man you barely met.  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”  And now a kiss. It was supposed to be the one you love to do this with you, to take these steps with you, but it’s not and so you close your eyes, a warm and soft pair of lips meet yours for the first time in your life, the saltiness of your tears taking away from how bitter everything feels. Everyone congratulates you, they are happy, and you, once again put on your facade and tell yourself to be grateful for what you have. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Time flies and after the wedding you are in front of your new apartment, smiling and saying goodbye. 

And then you find yourself inside the living room and soon enough in the room you are supposed to share, looking dumbfounded at your now to call husband. “Take them off.” He demands, arms crossed. 

No way you’re doing this…like this! “Can’t you hear me? Take your clothes off, I want to see you.” 

Your face burns red, arms wrapped around yourself, gripping the soft fabric tighter around you. Your ears refuse to acknowledge his words.

“If you don’t then I will.” The man takes a step further and you run towards what is supposed to be the bathroom door…locked. 

“So you really want to play like this, I thought you would be more understanding.” Jungkook comes over,  his hands drag you over to the bed sitting on the edge with you in front of him.  “Take your clothes off.” Burning gaze almost rips the dress itself. There is no escape from this so you start peeling at your clothes under his stare.

First is the vail that falls from your head, next he helps you with the zipper and then there you are, all naked in front of him, hands trying to hide what’s left of your dignity. He doesn't seem satisfied however, arms still crossed, eyes still burning on your body. 

“Are you a virgin?” You look up to him in shock, eyes wide, blood rushing to your already red cheeks. 

Was this a way to shame you? Asking these types of vulgar questions, making you do such things in front of him. “Is this your way to humiliate me?” You ask, voice small. “Nope, not at all.” You feel tears burning into the corner of your eyes, arms bending even more trying to make you disappear. 

“Is this embarrassing to you?” He asks curiously. 

“Yes…” you say in a whisper, hoping to ease some of the shame he’s making you feel. 

The man gets up, still fully clothed, big hands push you gently on the bed. 

You close your eyes, expecting something to happen, but you only feel a cold piece of material being thrown over you, a blanket. 

You are looking back at him confused, wondering if he’s just playing with you or making fun of you, but when you see him take off his clothes as well, you start to panic a little, not knowing where to look. “There you go, are you feeling better now that we both are naked?” You can’t look at him, body burning up under the covers. If you could dig a hole and crawl into it you would do so. 

Once again you expect him to do something, but he goes out of the room leaving you naked on the bed. Maybe he’s crazy, you think, but when you see him return with a knife you get worried. “What are you doing with that?” Gulping you asked. “Well it’s clear you have no idea of what we are supposed to do, and, to be honest, you don’t even seem fond of having sex with me.” You gasp at the boldness of his words. “See, you can’t even bear to hear the word itself!” “Meanwhile, just the thought of doing it LIKE this, makes me uncomfortable. It can’t even get up, see?” And you look at his member then away once again, making Jungkook laugh. 

“How about the knife, what are you doing with it?” Your mind is still filled with worry.

“You see, everyone expects us to consummate the marriage, Nana Min will come tomorrow to clean up. But since we can’t right now, I need to make it believable. I will just snip my finger a little, they won’t know where the blood came from anyways.” You try to calm down, at least he’s not forcing you into stuff, it’s just that, it’s weird. Doing so much for something so fake, he’s really on the long run. With a small wince he cuts himself a little on his palm, letting a few drops of blood to stain the covers. “Done.” The boy wipes his hand with a spare cloth until the blood stops and then crawls into the bed, laying on his back. “Let’s just go to sleep.” 

You stay seated at the edge of the bed, covers still fully on you so Jungkook takes this as a sign to try and comfort you, finally feeling a little bad about the way he acted towards you. 

Gently, pulling you back, until you lay flat against the bed, he unwraps the cocoon you created around you and pulls the sheet over both of you, leaving a little space in the middle so your naked bodies don’t touch. “You’re worried?” He asks. “I am.” You respond, turning your back to him.

“We can talk if you want too, don’t be so closed around me, aren’t I your husband?” “Fake husband, Jungkook, everything about this is fake.” Jungkook hums. 

“Yes, but…it doesn't mean we can’t work it better.” He proposes. “What even is the purpose? You don’t love me and I don’t love you.” You say revolted. "Y/N. How can I explain this to you?” He sighs. 

“I know we don’t know each other, and this is a play pretend right now, but we can work it out, we just need some time?” “Time for what?” You sound defeated, and so you feel, especially everytime you’re standing in front of this man, if you can’t read him, how can you even get close to him later on?  

“For the fact that I’m not as unfond of you as you think.” He blurts out taking you by surprise. “What?” You turn to face him, letting him see your tears, his hand coming to your cheek to wipe them away. “Come on, do you really think I would go this far for someone I want nothing to do with? Getting married, saving you and what not? I can’t say I love you right now, I just met you. But…you seem nice and I won’t complain if I get to spend my time with you.” You scoff shoving his hands away.

“So you only saved me because…I seem nice?” You prop on your elbow and look at him. “Yeah, and fierce, and determined, not someone who will beg for her life like all the others do, you seem like a strong woman who actually wants to do something in her life.” He also props himself on his elbow, looking at you with soft eyes. “I could’ve just sent you there with the others, but something in me just decided to keep you, that’s why we are here.” A fresh new wave of tears threaten to fall from your eyes “So you want to tell me, that you only got me to this point because I was appealing to you, like…an easy catch?” You scoff once again. “Yes, shitty reason, but these are my valid feelings, and I’m sorry if they hurt you.” You could feel the anger bubbling in your veins and it wasn’t even for Jungkook. He thought you were just a nice piece of meat he could have, and he was right. You just fell into his den and now he can just devour you whenever he feels like, only because you were that dumb.

You offered yourself to him without a fight since that seemed to be the most profitable option for you back then. 

“You think I’m a jerk right?” Oh and so much more, but now this is the jerk you are stuck with.

“Yes, I do, a big one, thinking of me as just an object you could have.” “You’ll learn to love me one day. I don’t plan on getting away from you.” The sincerity his eyes hold just confirmed everything you needed to know and “Never.” was your answer, deep inside knowing that this was not how things will be. Those were the last words spoken that night, before a sigh left his lips, probably tired and unsure himself of all of this.

You turned around, body seated as far as possible from him, emotions running wild, letting only time say how this will unfold. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

22 December 1955

And time truly heals, at first it felt horrible, long days spent inside these walls, your husband being away, not like it mattered that much since you two were not making it easier for each other, being at each other's throats almost everyday. 

It’s been a month since you met, and then it’s been two, then three, and things started to calm down. 

And now you stay in front of your oven, almost end of December, eyes sparkling while looking at how beautifully the snowflakes fall from the sky before getting lost in the darkness of the night. 

The smell of baked cookies fills the apartment, maybe not as big as his father’s, but big enough for you two. 

Jungkook is not home yet, or so you think, but when you feel two strong arms wrapping around you from behind you can’t help but get startled. “Did I scare you bun?” His voice was gentle, his cold embracing slowly becoming filled with your warmth. Things did get better, and he was right. 

It took a while for him to pull at your heart strings, but once he started it was way too hard to stop. 

First, it was the nicknames, then he started to give you some of the space you needed to explore what you like, coming across your knitting hobby. 

He made sure you felt spoiled, always bringing back stuff so you could cook and bake for him since you were fond of homemade food, and he became fond of your cooking. 

He became more gentle and opened up about a lot of stuff to you, and slowly so did you. It was coming along nicely, you were both learning how to love each other. “What are you making?” He asked while sniffing the air. “Just some basic cookies, Christmas is right around the corner and I need to prepare. You said we are going to visit your father and I thought we could also bring some goods to him.”

He nozzles his nose on the side of your neck, a new stuff he likes to do to bring some butterflies in your stomach. “Did Nana Min come around today?” He asks while leaving a kiss on your cheek. “Yes, she did.” 

Ever since the first night here, lady Min made sure you two had great comfort, being his maid for so long already made things easier, and you don’t want to admit it but her presence did make you two get closer faster. “You smell nice.” His hands leave your waist and start getting dangerously low for your liking. Even though you two have been married for quite some time, you were still uneasy when Jungkook initiated things further than kissing, that also being a step taken very hard in your relationship.

He didn’t want to pressure you either, into doing something you possibly wouldn’t enjoy, but as he said once, he was a man and his needs started growing a little beyond the line, especially since you two started getting way closer. Stuff like intimacy was discussed before, he knew you didn’t have experience and you found out he lingered around sometimes, from having a few flings here and there to actually going to the more “exclusive” places of your times where you can pay for such services.

You were a little horrified to find about this, but he assured it was long in the past, just when his youth was kicking in, and it’s been years since he stopped going there. However, he did say he’s never gone with a virgin, so the doubts were still there, both of you felt them.

Your body rigids when his hands slips under your blouse. “Jungkook.” You try to warn him, but his mouth starts leaving small kisses to the side of your neck. 

“Relax baby.” And you try, until one of his hands slips under your bra, cupping your right breast. You whimper a little, eyes closing and only then Jungkook knows he’s gotten you right where he wanted once again. “Let’s go upstairs.” He stops the oven, leaving the cookies half baked, slowly guiding you to the bedroom. Hungry lips come in contact with yours even before entering the room, and you could feel that everything about this is different, but you don’t stop.

You learned now that he will never hurt you or go beyond something you don’t like, you just need to tell him and he’ll stop. “Can I take this off?” He asked since your bra straps were already going down your arms under your blouse. Jungkook’s hands were already toying with your breasts, yet he still was sweet enough to ask if he could remove your upper wear. 

“Yeah, please do so.” Your small voice was not uncertain yet, truth to be told, you’ve gone a few times through him groping and kissing on your body, more or less naked, but he never dared to touch beyond that, and you always made sure to stop him out of your own fears. With careful hands Jungkook takes off your blouse, unclasps your bra and lays you down on the bed, head right between the pillows. His lips trail down from your neck to your chest, stopping right above your breast before taking your nipple right on. He manages to rip a louder moan out of you, your back arching at the feeling making him grin. His hands help you out of your skirt, now only in your pair of panties in front of him, and when one of them starts to play with your underwear that’s when you let all of your insecurities take the better of you.

“Jungkook, stop.” You rise from the bed and try to avoid his gaze, you know he’s annoyed with your behavior, always stopping him before things become more serious, but he also realizes how scary this is for you. 

Your hands grip the sheets, eyes getting teary in frustration, a warm hand cups your face. “Look at me, Y/N.” Head turning slowly, soft dark brown eyes bore into yours. “We are never getting past this if you don’t trust me.” He says a little worried. “But I do trust you…I just…don’t trust me.” You sniffle and wipe the tear that just fell from your eye. The man in front of you giggles, he pulls his uniform off, leaving him only in his boxers and he rests his head on your shoulder leaving feathery kisses. “I told you I don’t care, good or bad I want you.”

You also rest your head on his shoulder, more tears wetting his skin in annoyment with yourself. “Will you be gentle with me?” He hums, wrapping his arms around your body, dragging you on his lap, letting you feel how hard he is for you. “I will go easy, and if you feel really bad just tell me to stop.” He lays you back eyes looking for reassurance before sliding your last piece of clothing off your body, and you give him the green after so long. Jungkook feels excitement bubbling inside him and he tries not to let his feelings get the best of him at this moment. 

“You look so pretty.” His palms start rubbing your legs up and down before parting them to look right where he wanted. One of your hands makes their way down quickly, but before you can hide away he takes your hand away making you whine. 

“Don’t look, please!” You say, embarrassment running through your veins “Then what am I supposed to do? I want to see it.” His comments always bold, making you bright red for him. “I have to touch you a little, you won’t be able to take it otherwise.” You bite your lips at his remark, already too embarrassed to say anything. You saw him, not once after that night, sometimes soft, sometimes hard, he was a lot. 

It worried you a little, however, his touch on your private parts made even the clearest part of your mind cloud. He touched lightly, playing with the bundle of nerves first, making you feel stuff you’ve never felt before, and then you felt it, one of his fingers, thick and slightly rough to the feeling, entering you. “Oh my God!” Your whole body contracted. It felt weird, not exactly bad, but weird, a new feeling. 

“Shhh, relax for me.” He made sure to kiss and caress you in such a way you wouldn’t feel the second going in just after. And slowly, you whimpered and squirmed around as he was pumping them in and out. 

“I don’t think I like this.” You say, a strange new feeling already developing inside of you. “You’re just close, don’t worry, you will feel better in a second.” He picked up his pace, thumb rubbing over your clit every time he pushed his fingers into you. “This is scary, please.” 

His lips reassure you a little when they make contact with your temple. “It’s going to be better, let it out, my soul.” And you overspill, all the emotions that bottled up spill right in that moment, a wave of pleasure washes over you making you almost scream. It takes you a minute to get down from the high you just had, your husband whispering how good you did for him while his hands leave your fluttering count. You close your eyes for a little until you hear some rustling around you. Jungkook is getting out of the bed, boxers still on hard cock threatening to escape out of them. 

“Where are you going?” You ask confused, awaken fast from the mind blowing pleasure you just felt. “I’ll run you a bath, I’ll be right back.” You rush to get up, hand managing to catch his.

“But why? Are we finished yet?” He smiles gently at you and pats your head. “You are a little overwhelmed right now, you just had your first ever orgasm, my love. Don't worry about me, if we go further it might be too much for you.” 

He tries to soften your grip and go but you hold even tighter. “No!” You jump out of the bed with wobbly legs, dragging him towards the bed and making him sit down on the edge. “You’re just working me up for nothing? I’ve been waiting for this and now that I have the courage you stop? What kind of man ar…” You try to revolt and anger him a little. And you also obtain what you want, he turns you around manhandling you, face in the sheets, his hard on pressing on your bum making you gasp. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, I won’t be able to stop if we continue.” 

You turn your head to the left looking up at him, eyes clouded. “Maybe I don’t want you to stop.” He growls a little, warning you. “This attitude you have! Y/N, I don’t want to hurt you in any way, it will just make this experience bad for you.” 

He lets go and you turn around. “Please, I want this.” You beg him to please your wishes making him sigh once again, head dropping, finally giving in to your desires. “Just…hit me if it hurts or I don’t stop.” He crawls back in bed, sitting once again on top of you, his hand slip his boxers off, knocking the breath out of your lungs when you see him stand so tall in front of you, hand gripping his hot cock, his eyes clouded by his own desires.

“Spread nicely for me, love.” And you do so, much more confidently this time, excited even. Jungkook looks down at you, seeing how small you look under him, a little unsure if he really wants to continue, but you seem so excited to finally let things happen, so he caves in. Pumping himself a few times he rubs up and down to collect some of your left over wetness, his hand guiding the tip at your entrance. “It will hurt .” He warns. “It’s fine, I trust you, Jungkook.” You whisper, making his heart skip a beat knowing that you trust him so much. He bites his lip and with a small nudge he pushes lightly past the ring of your entrance looking over for any reaction, anything and he will pull out instantly.

You seem quiet and calm so he gathers some more courage to push just a little further, just until his head is in, and then he looks over to you seeing the signs already, tears pulling in your eyes and fists lightly clumping his pillow. 

“I’ll stop.” “No!” You say once again, more determined to try new stuff with the man you are finally in love with. ‘But you are in pain, love.” He coos softly. “Just do it please, it’s not that bad.” Jungkook pushes further and further until he is almost fully in, his face comes closer to yours just to kiss your lips and face and soothe the pain away, letting you adjust to the new feeling, giving him a nudge when you feel ready.

“I’ll move now, tell me if it’s too much.” And he slowly pulls out, a few droplets of blood staining the sheets. You moan harshly when he pushes in again, this time fitting all of himself inside you. 

And he holds you through the pain until you start to claw at his back, more sounds coming out of the both of you. “It’s starting to feel good.” You breathlessly say while the man above you seems to have his mind almost out of this world. It doesn't take much for the feeling to start appearing once again, warm bubbles forming in your tummy. “I’m close.” You say calmly, knowing what’s about to happen. “Me too, baby.” Your husband whispers breathlessly.  

Jungkook’s starts being a little rough making you whine while your walls contract at the sudden peace. “It’s just me baby, relax for me.” He says making you melt in his embrace. 

In a second the bubbles burst making you arch your back, scratching Jungkook’s with your nails in the process. And soon you feel it, the sloppy pace, the trembling and the even warmer feeling within your walls. Maybe you were inexperienced, but you knew what this meant. “Jungkook, did you…” Both of you were trying to catch your breath. “I’m sorry…I came inside…I told you I can’t stop.” The boy was ashamed, not being careful could lead to greater consequences, and he, for sure, did not want to knock you up on the first night you shared your love. 

Slowly he pulls out, looking at the mess he’s made, saying sorry once again. “If I get pregnant, you’re in big trouble, mister.” You laugh a little pulling him down for a kiss. 

“But until then let’s wash you up, you must be tired.” He says picking you up and carrying you in the bathroom. Life just gets sweeter and sweeter from a point, that’s what everyone says. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

4 March 1956 Thankfully you didn’t manage to get pregnant from your first try, or second, or third, and the many more that followed after. At a point you even wondered if it was possible for you to carry. But your husband was not worried, he always said “When’s the time, it will happen.” 

To be honest, you think he was just grateful he didn’t have to worry about protection. You were at Jungkook’s family house right now. He was on his border shift and whenever that would happen, you would stay over with his father and the others. 

Winter was finally over, flowers started to bloom again and the weather was pretty warm for the beginning of spring. 

You were waiting patiently, it was time for your husband to return and everyone waited eagerly ever since they heard this month, due to their skilled squad, nobody managed to pass the border. 

You got used to it by now, old events long forgotten, your mind and soul accepting Jungkook’s work more and more, after all it was also part of him. Playing with the chain of your silver necklace, rocking on the swing in the front garden, looking outside through the thick fence at the various people passing by. Humming gently while letting the breeze run through your locks, a surprised voice calling your name. “Y/N?” You look up, eyes widening in surprise, happiness washing over you at the sight of Yun-Mi. She looked ravaged, her clothes were pretty dirty and she had some visible bruises on her, not to mention the prominent belly she was carrying. You wanted to say hi, to ask her how she’s doing, what happened all this time, worried about how did she end up in this state, but before your body to make a move Jungkook’s words came up in your mind “Those girls are not your friends anymore, we don’t speak of them, and if you want to live good then you follow what I say and be obedient, understood?”

So you stop, you can’t do this. You avert her gaze and slowly get off the swing, turning your back to her, feet rushing to get inside. You hear her scream, her hands open the gate running after you. “You can’t do this to me! Why are you pretending you don’t know me?!” “I don’t know you! Please leave, this is private property!” You look back, she’s struggling with all that’s going on, but you don’t stop. In front of the door Yuna appears out due to all the noise and screams. You look at her expecting to call some guards, or do something about the situation but she just sits there, a small grin plastering her face in satisfaction. Within seconds, you fall to the ground, your feet tripping over a stone. Yun-Mi’s body turns you around, getting her form on top of you, one of her hands gripping your hair while the other hits the arms that tries to cover your face. “Get off me!” You scream in pain. “How can you do this! Filthy bitch! You don’t know me anymore? You don’t want to know what I went through while you lived a good life?!” And she hits even harder, tears coming out, running on your face. You close your eyes expecting more, but the only thing you can hear is her yelping. With trembling hands you try to arrange your hair. Looking up, your eyes only see the very furious figure of your husband, his hands gripping Yun-Mi’s hands above her head. 

“How can this happen in my yard, on my property!” His soldiers drag Yun-Mi’s body out of the garden while she’s pulling up a rage fit, screaming insults. Jungkook doesn't look at you first, his eyes lay on the girl in front of his house, who’s now avoiding his gaze, his father coming out from behind her shock plastered on his face. 

“What is happening here?” He rushes over to see your state. Jungkook grits his teeth, heavy and fast steps taken towards Yuna, both me and his father turn around to watch him. His hand came in contact with her arm, pulling her towards him. “Why did you let this happen?” Yuna bows her head, avoiding his glance. “Yuna, I’m asking one more time. Why did you let this woman hurt my wife?”  She looks at him through her lashes, biting her lips, spitting venomous words between her teeth. “She deserves it for stealing you away from me.” Slap Her face turns to the side, eyes widening and tears gathering in them. The man shakily exhales, his hand running through his hair in anger. 

“If you ever let my wife get hurt and do nothing about it, I will throw you out on the streets. Remember who brought you here and be grateful, not a greedy bitch who wants a married man’s attention.” With a low, dark tone he tells her. He’s finally coming closer to you, his father scolds him for hitting a woman, but he doesn’t seem to care. He tries to be gentle with you, but you can see he's still full of rage. “Are you okay, my soul?” You shake the dust of your dress, brushing your hair back, collecting the few strands that fall. “Yeah, I’m fine, a bit scuffed, that’s all.” He sighs, helping you get up from the ground. “Let’s get you inside and clean your wounds, I have something to discuss with my father.” He takes your hand in his and helps you inside the house, passing by Yuna whose body was on the ground, shaking from all the crying. Lady Min took care of you while Jungkook and his father went into his office to discuss. It didn’t take long to hear the shouting and arguing, at a point even some glass smashing to the ground.

“Oh my, what is happening in there? Today is not a good day.” She bandages you with worry and by the time she is done your husband storms more enraged out of his father’s office. “Come on Y/N, we’re leaving.” Using your name surely startled you, after months of being used to praises, your name felt strange coming out of his mouth. “You are not doing as you please, Jungkook! This is not your decision to take!” His father screams while going after him. “You can’t make me stay, this is my life! I’m 25 for fuck’s sake! I am allowed to make my own decisions!” And with that his hand grabs yours, pulling you out of the house, and pushing you into the backseat of his car. 

His dad still screaming after his son, but he wouldn’t turn back. He buckles up into the driver’s seat and drives you home. … “Pack up, tonight I’m coming for you.” He said sternly after you two entered the house. “Jungkook, what’s happening? Where are we going? Why were you fighting with your father?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, annoyed. “Answer me, please.”  You could see him clench his fists. “Pack up I said! And don’t ask stupid questions!” He growls violently back at you. Startled by his anger, you bow your head and nod, a little scared by his actions. What was happening to him all of a sudden?  You wanted to have answers, to not be in the shadows, clearly he didn’t want you to know. But you could only wonder, did something bad happen? Your husband sighs and comes closer to you, pulling you into his embrace, finally trying to calm his nerves down. “I’m sorry, love, didn’t mean to scream at you. Just pack up and I’ll explain to you on the way.” He kisses your temple going out of the door and right back at the car, leaving you alone in the cold and empty house.

… Packing up was definitely a challenge for you since there were many things you had now and don’t know if you need, but after a few hours you think you finally have everything essential down. 

The sky is dark now, a car stops in front of your door, and one of Jungkook’s soldiers boards your items in the trunk. In the backseat, your husband reads over some documents, his eyes soften when he sees you enter, he is way calmer now. “Hey.” His hand comes in contact with your hair, brushing gently through it. “Hey” You respond with a small smile, hands fidgety. “I know you are confused, but don’t worry. I’ll explain everything to you.” And he does. He told you how some of his soldiers died in a border attack, and how he was tired of doing this work, always seeing his mates pass away. He put up a petition to move departments and work in city patrolling and other governmental work instead, and it got approved. 

Not by his father though, who taught he doesn't have to move away in another city and work with the government, that sparked the argument between the two. He insisted on his son staying close to home since the war was getting rougher with many more enemy squads were coming closer to habitable places, the borders being attacked more often. 

But Jungkook made his decision, he was a 25 years old man after all, he needed to think about his whereabouts more and also take into consideration all ways to keep you safe. 

And now there were you going, another city, another house, another life to live. Looking into the night, part of you was conflicted. You knew your husband only wanted the best for you and himself, but leaving behind all that he knew, friends and family, was this really a good decision?  Your thoughts were all over the place with everything that happened too. I guess you could say your husband noticed your worries since he took you into his embrace, cuddling you close to the heart that was now beating only for you, your eyes slowly closing while listening to it, letting go of your worries for tomorrow.

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

21 July 1956 

Months have gone by fast in the new city. At first, accommodation was hard. You knew no one and making friends was not an option when Jungkook, a highly seen sergeant now working with the government, was your husband. 

The place was poorer than the one you lived in before, that’s why people avoided you, being commoners made them afraid to engage so they don’t end up in prison or enslavement. In this case you remained alone, now already used to the feeling. However, your husband was more often at home since his duties didn’t make him take so much time apart, mostly working in the place you are settled. This also makes it easier for you to get even more closer to each other, almost a year passed since your meeting. Dates occurring more often, just like right now.  The last few days it rained quite a bit, but now the weather is starting to warm up again, making it perfect for spending your time out. And after spending so much boring time in your house, you filled a little basket with goods, took a nice blanket and urged your husband to get out for your little picnic, it was his day off after all, he should enjoy it. “Come on, Jungkook! Be a little faster!” You found yourself on a little hill right outside the city, it was pretty similar to the one you had back home, but with a better view and not as dangerous. You let your basket down, hands spreading the blanket nicely between the taller grass and the pretty summer wildflowers. Your husband chuckles at your eagerness, his back laying on the blanket while watching you rummage through the goods. “I hope I didn’t forget anything at home.” His hands pat your back urging you to lay down next to him. “We will enjoy what you brought, honey. Just sit and enjoy for now.” You sigh and shoot him a glance, but quickly conform and lay next to him staring at the clouds in the sky. “There are many clouds today, I hope it won’t rain.” Jungkook hums next to you, closing his eyes, enjoying the summer breeze. “I want to do it.”  You sit up so fast, clearly taken aback by his words, making him grin. Sure, you learned the hard way that he is the type of man who gets what he wants when he wants it, but right now? “Are you serious? This is supposed to be a nice evening that we both enjoy!” You nag at him. “And we will both enjoy it, I promise.” His arms wrap around your waist, dragging his body closer, lips make contact to your clothed thigh. 

Your hands try to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. “Jungkook, not now! We are in the open eye and…and what if someone just stumbles across us doing inappropriate things? That’s only going to ruin your reputation and make me want to vanish from the face of earth!” You try to fight back but in vain, his hands push you down to lay back on the blanket, his body hovering above you. Your hands grip his biceps, trying to stop him from running your skirt upwards, but when his sweet lips melt on the side of your neck you loosen up a little, letting him do whatever he wants. Soon enough the skirt of your dress is ridden above your waist, panties long forgotten to the side. Jungkook smirks while looking at how wet and glistening you are. “I missed this, I’ve been so busy lately that I forgot how pretty you look.” You slap his hand lightly, being embarrassed. He hums thinking about something, while you just lay there expecting his touch. “Is everything alright?” You ask, a little worried when he doesn’t touch you. “I’m contemplating on what to do, my fingers are dirty so I can’t use them, and going without prepping you will hurt.” 

Oh…he was just so thoughtful that it just melted you. You wanted to tell him that he can just put it in, you’ll endure. But before you can say anything his lips come in contact with your warm clit. You gasp in shock, fingers already tangling in his hair to try and push him away. He’s never done this to you before.  “Oh my lord! What are you doing!” But he doesn't budge, he only sucks harder around your folds, making you lean your head back moaning loudly. One of his hands pushes you down before coming to spread your thighs even more. His lips and tongue working wonders on you, almost making you forget about everything around, but getting you so, so flustered by all the slurping and licking sounds that fly in the air. Soon you feel your high coming and when the tip of his tongue brushes past your entrance you lose it, a high pitched moan leaving your throat while stars start to appear in the day sky. You breathe heavily, chest running up and down, legs shaking. Jungkook emerges from the skirt that fell down over his heads, lips glossy and grin almost as big as his pride from making you come so fast. “I think you are prepared enough now.” He pulls your skirt back up, gripping your legs and putting them over his shoulders, almost folding you in half. 

“I don’t want to know where you learn all of these nasty things from.” You say, finally getting back to your senses, only for a short time though. He laughs and pushes in, his cock sliding in and bottoming out instantly at how well prepped you were. “Would you look at that?” He cockily says. It only took him a few seconds of accommodation before starting to thrust quickly into you, making your breast almost spill from the confinement of your top. His lips eagerly nudge at your neck, hands not letting your legs slip from his shoulders. “Don’t worry, sunflower, you were the first one to try this. Until today I only saw it done by others.” He whispers in your ears, making you clench tightly around him. Your arms grab him by his neck, pulling him closer, sweet sounds pouring into his ears making him hiss.

“I’m embarrassed right now, you always pull stunts like this.” He laughs wholeheartedly, peace never slowing down. 

He gets up from your chest, eyes staring lovingly into yours before he stretches upwards, making him go even deeper if possible, also taking a moan out of you when you feel his tip gently nudge your cervix. “You’re a little deep…” Your heart flutters, fingers gently caressing his face. You could feel so much love all around you. Feeling your second orgasm come close, you turn your head looking at the sky above. It felt like you were the only ones under it at this moment. “I’m close, love.” You say. Jungkook’s peace also starts to wither, getting close to his own high. “Me too, my soul.” In an instant the love blooms between you two, your bodies burning up with passion and desire, the knots untying letting you claim each other once again. Both of you breath heavily, sweat running down your foreheads. He doesn’t pull out, but his arm reaches above your head, pushing him a little deeper once again, making you whine.

He comes down quickly not to hurt you, placing a daisy in your messy hair. “My beautiful flower.” He whispers, rough hands caressing the soft skin of your face making you blush even more. He collapses on top of you, your legs falling off his shoulders, but still feeling a little uncomfortable from all the soreness that’s appearing.  “Can you pull out, please?” “Nope.” He raises his head smiling smugly. “I’m getting sore.” “Sorry baby, but I’m starting to get a little worried by now. It’s been a year yet you are still not pregnant, not that I’m eager for a child, but I wonder what’s happening here.” He smiles and pecks your lips quickly.

“So these are your worries now? Weren’t you the one who said when it’s time it will come?” You scoff. “But it’s been long, what if you can’t get pregnant?” 

You frown a little, baby talking was a pretty sensitive topic, especially after so much trial and error. You didn't think it would affect you in any way, you were still young and if it was to come you will be more than happy to welcome a little bundle of joy. 

Jungkook didn’t seem very fond of the idea of having a baby either in the beginning, always saying how he was too busy to care for one. However, you are a little hurt now. Giving him a child is a dream of yours, but if that doesn’t happen, is your relationship going to stay the same? Maybe he will leave you for someone else that can give him one. Worry and insecurity starts growing into your veins. “It hurts, can you please get off.” You start to wiggle and he finally complies, pulling out and wiping you clean with a napkin. “It hurts badly? Did I hurt you?” He also grows worried, pulling your leg to inspect whether he hurt you badly or not. “It seems just like any other time after we’ve done it? Where does it hurt?” He asks, concerned. 

“Here…” You point to your heart, hurt more by the thoughts of him possibly leaving you for someone else then the soreness between your legs. 

He takes your hand in his and looks over you with worry. “Why? Is it bad, do we need to see a doctor?” You shake your head sitting up. “Will you leave me?” He tilts his head holding your hand close to his chest. “Leave you, no. Why would you think that?” “Because I might not be able to bear your children.” You sniffle. He laughs and puts your palm under his shirt, right where his heart sits. “Do you feel this? It beats for you and you only. Even if we can’t have them, this, what I feel for you…will never fade away, trust me.” The sincerity in his eyes and words make you tear up, cuddling closer to his chest to listen to the way his heart beats. And you stay close, holding each other until the sun almost dies down, enjoying his presence and eating all the goods you made. Packing everything up, Jungkook helps you on your feet, hands grabbing the basket and blanket. Thick and dark clouds covering what’s left of the sun. “I think it will rain tonight.” “Yes, so do I, we better hurry. I’m already dirty and I don’t want to wash up in the rain.” With quick steps you get back to the city. Welcomed by agitation right from the beginning. You grasp Jungkook’s hand tight and stick closer to him. “What is happening?” He asks, concerned.

We make our way into the madness, the rain starting to pour all of a sudden. Nobody can say anything, they just wander around, running and gathering what seems to be their belongings. Are they leaving? With heavy steps and hearts you arrive in front of your house, a car filled with military men waiting in front. “Stay here.” Jungkook instructs you, leaving the basket in your hands and covering your head with the blanket. 

You try to get closer to hear what’s happening, but all that you can see is Jungkook’s worried eyes. He gulps thickly and turns to you for a brief second, finally letting you see his glossy eyes. Without a word he jumps in the car and leaves. You remain alone on the streets, clothes drenched, the wooden basket falling from your hands on the ground. You stare into nothingness not wanting to believe that he just left without an explanation after sharing so much love. After what seemed to be an eternity, your sore and cold body finally moves. With shaky hands you pick up all the food that spilled on the road, most of it washed by the rain. Unknowingly tears start running down your face. You gathered everything and went inside. It was warm, but you just felt cold. 

After you wash up and lay in bed you can finally let all your emotions run wild, painful sobs being heard around the room in hopes of someone hearing them.

All you could do was wait…wait for his answers, wait for him to return home.

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

19 August 1956 It’s been almost a month. A month since Jungkook left and never returned. You waited for a sign, you waited for him to show up at your door and jump in your arms. You always told yourself that no apologies can make you forgive him for this, but the truth is that you only needed to see his eyes, to feel his warmth and you know you will forget anything that has happened. You tried getting answers, but nobody knew much. You asked other military man to drive you to where he was, knowing that they knew where he was, but in vain. You were stuck for almost a month in this city, living like a widow instead of a happy wife. But now you know, a soldier came into the city and you overheard him saying how General Jeon was on death bed due to being injured in an attack in the city, his son getting ready to take his place. You almost fainted out of shock, not wanting to believe that was the truth, the reason your husband left without a trace. With the little power you had, after being drained out for so long, you gathered some necessities and jumped in the first communal carrier that was passing through the old city you lived in. And there you were, after many hours spent on the road, feet planted in front of the Jeon family house. The look of the place now eerie due to the attack of the enemies. You step inside the big garden, once decorated with pretty flowers, now only dirt and mud covering the yard, even the swing was just a pile of broken wood. Getting closer to the door you could feel your feet soften, shaking hands come in contact with the door knob. You enter, the house seeming devoid of life. Putting the little suitcase you carried down you scan the place for any movements. From the corner of your eyes you could see Jungkook’s father's office with a slightly open door. Your feet take slowly towards it, peeking through the gap. A figure sits lonely in the chair, head resting on the desk. Your heart skips a beat when you notice the messy hair of someone you know very well, Jungkook. Slowly you make your way in admiring his sleepy figure after all this time. His eyes carried dark circles under them, tired by all the work he had to do. Your hand makes its way to his locks, now just a little longer than you remember, but just as soft. You can’t help but let out a sigh at the sight of him, slight pang growing in your heart. He must have felt your touch, stirring in his sleep until his eyes opened and looked at you. He is shocked, jumping from his chair, strengthening his posture looking like he’s just seen a ghost. 

“Long time no see.” It’s the only thing you can say after so long. You had so many questions you wanted to ask, but it was hard to form them. “Y/N…” He mutters, hands rubbing his eyes in confusion, wondering if you would disappear. But you are still here, yet too calm. 

“You came.” He says. “You left me.” You respond.

He avoids your gaze, conscious of his actions and behavior. “I had no choice, my father is sick, I had to return, and…” “Stop, Jungkook.” He looks up at you, goosebumps appearing on his skin from your stern voice. “I don’t want to hear your nonsense, you left me. Why did you leave me?” He puts his hand on his forehead, eyes closing, trying to think of something to say. “I didn’t leave you, this is temporary, I would’ve returned to you, I would’ve come back home.” He argues back.

“When? I waited for a sign from you for almost a month.” You sniffle, eyes burning with tears that threaten to fall, the feeling way too overwhelming. 

“I waited for a letter, or a call! Someone to just appear at my door with any information. Hell, anything would’ve done!” You spit out in a blurry rush, afraid that he might just disappear again, leaving you alone and cold.  

“But you? You just left me there without any care, to rot and die from missing you so goddamn much…” You try to swallow the boulder you feel in your throat, but nothing can stop the feelings who already overspiled. Jungkook turns his head, eyes getting teary as well. “I had no choice, Y/N. He’s dying...” “And so was I!” Your fist hits his desk, rage burning like the salty tears that run on your face. “I was dying little by little everyday! I lived with you being away because I knew you would return. But now…you left without a word, I was worried sick! I didn’t think I'd see you again!” You bite your lip, the pressure making it almost bleed. “Stay out of it.” Your shoulders slouch, figure softening at his words. “Go back home and stay out of it, Y/N.” He looks sternly at you, after all this time still pulling this stupid obedience game. You’ve had enough. “If you don’t want me here and just continue to push me away, throwing me into the shadows then so be it, but don’t expect me to welcome you into my house, or my bed, or my heart anymore.�� You grip with cold hands the tag that you wore for almost a year. In a swift motion, take it down from your neck, making Jungkook widen his eyes. “Don’t you dare!” He says, voice shaking. “Screw you.” Your hands throw the tag on the floor, landing right at his feet, turning your back to him you run out of the room, forgetting about everything else. Jungkook's body is stiff as a stone, head trying ever so hard to process what just happened. He missed you, he missed you like crazy. He imagined in his head the way you two would meet again, the way he would make it up and make you forget that he was even away. 

He ached to have you in his arms, to feel your touch, to kiss your lips. Now all that he could do was grip the piece of cold metal in his hands, sobs leaving his body uncontrollably. 

A warm hand places itself on the crown of his head, hoping that this was not the end, that you came back and forgave him, that he didn’t just lose you forever. It was Lady Min, however. Her eyes soft and warm, holding so much pity for the boy she raised all these years. “Oh my Jungkook. My swell little boy.” She pats his head while he cries and sobs, just like she was doing when he was just a small boy. “I-I lost her. Right?” He says through hiccups making her sigh.

“You only lose something you don’t care about anymore, Jungkook.” Her hands wipe his tears and help him back on his feet. “You are a soldier yourself, young boy. Are you going to lose without a proper battle?” He wipes his tears and calms down, holding the chain tightly to his chest. “No. I don’t want to let this happen.” “Then what are you waiting for? You’ve surely made many mistakes, but we are all humans after all, it’s in our nature to make mistakes. Y/N is a sweet girl, she will forgive you.” Jungkook gets a little courage from her reassuring words. “Go after your girl, Jungook. Don’t let her break away from you.” He nods and rushes after you, hands holding the tag like his life depends on it. … Things were just as heavy for you, already regretting having such attitude towards your husband. It was getting late and you needed a place to stay, since your old apartment was most probably sold already. You sigh, trying to wipe the remaining tear stains of your face, until a hand grabs your arm. You turn away alarmed, sensing that coming your way was only trouble. A man. His uniform was one of a soldier, face grinning from ear to ear, making goosebumps appear on your skin, this guy ment danger. 

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing at such late hour? Should I accompany you home?” You gulp and try to take your arm out of his grip, keeping as well as you can composure. “I’m fine, my husband’s waiting for me.” You say trying to free up once again, hoping he gets the signal and leaves you alone, but instead, another guy makes its way towards you two. “Is there a problem here?” He asks, looking at the shorter guy in front of him. You look pleadingly, hoping that he will instruct the one in letting you go, but you are so wrong. “She’s alone at night, in such place, I figured I could help her get back home.” 

The other guy laughs and shakes his head. “It’s pretty late, you are right.” And then you see it, the nasty stares you get, the way his hand goes ever so slightly upper on your arm. “Let go of me, I am a married woman, if my husband finds out both of you will be killed.” You try to say confidently, after all it’s the truth. You just gave them a chance to not experience their eyes being carved out, because if he finds out they touched you, not even begging and praying would help. “Come on, don’t be so stiff, it’s just some fun we can have before you get home, doesn’t it sound tempting?” You shake your head, finally understanding their motives. The other hand moves to pull out Jungkook’s tag, only to touch nothing in return. 

You threw the tag at him. You start gulping harder, body tensing up and muscles starting to shake. “Let go of me, I am not joking, my husband is in high military, if he finds out you will be tortured!” The men only laugh, the second guy comes close to you, gripping your hands from the back, while the first one plays with the ties on your top. 

“Let’s see what we have here.” He says untying your top, your cleavage now on sight. “Let me go, this is your last chance!” You try to wiggle out, but it’s in vain, they are way stronger and bigger than you. His hands work fast, dragging your top low enough for your bra to be in full sight, his disgusting hands pull down your arm one strap. “Oh! So pretty, do you see this? Such a tasty dinner for us.” Tears fall once again while you still try to resist, the soldier's hand reaches to cup your breast through your bra, but it never touches it. Everything stops in time for a second and you look at his wrist, blood rushing, a huge hole in it. The soldier looks confused until the pain and shock starts to kick in and he falls to the ground. The other one lets you go, trying to run away but two more shots could be heard, and he falls to the ground with a wound on each leg. You cover your chest with your arms, looking in the distance to see your husband. Eyes burning red in anger, in his hand shining the piece of metal you needed back so much. 

He rushes over, putting his hands on your shoulders to examine whether you got hurt or not. You feel too ashamed to look at him, other men have touched and seen your body. His hands put your necklace back on, his jacket is gently placed over your shoulders. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I am here now.” He grabs your trembling body in his arms, caressing your head and back, shushing and calming you down. He grabs you even closer while some of his men appear at the scene, he made his whole pluton to look after you. 

“Sergeant! What’s your order?” The men salute him with respect. “Get them away and I don’t care what you do to them, just don't have mercy, they touched what’s mine.” He said through gritted teeth, a dangerous, dark look on his face. “Yes, sir!” They all comply and try to take the two who are crying and begging for their lives, but Jungkook doesn’t budge, he just holds you close to him until you get back to the house. … After he made absolutely sure you weren’t hurt, he let you take a bath, saying he wants to discuss once you are ready for bed. And he stayed truthful to his words this time. Entering the room also ready for bed, he comes closer to you letting his body rest. “We should talk.” You hum, turning your body away from him. “I know you are upset with me, and you have the right to be so. But I love you, Y/N, I would never want to do something as cruel as leaving you all by yourself. I should’ve explained myself first instead of just leaving like an idiot.” He comes closer to you wrapping his arms around your form from behind. You shy away at his touch. “Please, don’t hide from me, I’ve made mistakes, I know, but I am so, so sorry, forgive me.” He whispers, his nose buried in the back of your neck. You want to cry, and it’s not even for the reason he thinks, you feel disgusted about what happened. “I’m dirty now, right?” You ask biting your bottom lip. “Dirty? In what way?” He slowly asks. “They’ve seen and touched, I’m disgraceful.” you say while your hand presses the tag closer into your skin. Jungkook rests on his elbow and turns you around so you could lay on your back. Hi other hand cups gently your face. “You are not dirty nor disgraceful.” His hands caress your features gently. “Don’t feel that way, please.” “But they touched me, they almost saw me naked.” 

Jungkook leans down and kisses your eyes, then goes lower and lower, spilling praises along the way, his lips stopping at the nape of your neck. “If you really feel like this then how about you let me see and touch? I would make everything go away, my sun, you would only remember my eyes and lips on your pretty body after this, what do you think?” You look away and lightly tug at the top, loosening it for him to see and touch, and he complies. “That’s my girl.” His touch was gentle, cupping everything he could, kissing everywhere was skin.” 

It felt intimate, not lustfull or filled with desire, just intimate. His hands gently run up and down your waist while his mouth runs over every little crevice making you forget those two disgusting men even exist, imprinting only Jungkook’s lips and scent in your skin. “Are you better now? No more bad thoughts?” He asks, head resting on your chest. “Yes, and I also want to say sorry, I shouldn't have reacted like I did, it only led to trouble.” He smiles and kisses between your breasts once again, then looks up and also captures your lips in a slow and tangy kiss, something to remember. After your quick reunion, Jungkook tells you all that has happened in the city and with his father, and how the government wants him to take his father’s place and become a general. You listen to all his worries, you cry together and laugh together, sharing some love in between. You stay up all night just talking and catching up, and until dawn arrives he also reveals that you two have to move away again, in the countryside this time. They have a vacation house there, and since the enemy started getting closer and closer, it would be best for you to remain in a safer and unpopulated area. Even though not pleased with the plan, you comply, knowing that he only wants what’s best for you, and getting you hurt or potentially killed is not in any of his strategies.

After all that you fall into a deep slumber, entangled in each other’s warmth, even though both of your heads were clouded with worry, you at least have each other, and from now on without any run-aways. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

11 September 1956 After all that happened you wanted to stay and celebrate Jungkook’s 26th birthday, still hoping for some more time together, however, you were shortly after sent alone to the location of his vacation home. A beautiful, cozy house, with a big yard and a lake behind. It looked straight out of paradise. Jungkook kept sending you letters when he was away and couldn’t contact you on the landline, he promised to come and visit somewhere around mid september, before he will take on a dangerous mission, trying to annihilate all the enemy’s camps from your region.

You were scared to say the least. You were seeing him less and less and now he was about to go to war and fight for your region’s freedom. But you waited patiently, hoping that he will arrive soon so you can get a piece of his love once again. Possibly even the last, but you didn’t want to let those thoughts linger around your mind, he was a strong guy, you knew he could lead such missions with minimum damages done and high success rate. And so you waited, day after day, from sunrise till dusk. He promised you, and you knew he would come. Tonight was no special, September began warm in the beginning, but right now the cold started to settle more and more. It was just like you were feeling, the warmth you once felt was slowly losing its power, making you grow colder without him by your side. Putting one more log in the fireplace you sit down, eyes glaring into the open flames who burn hot and red. It’s quiet. But not even the quietness lasts long once you can hear a car stopping in front of your house, heart starting to beat faster, mind racing. He’s home.

With quick steps you rush to the door opening it, in front of you a tall figure, dressed in military attire, his smile bright when he sees your figure. You jump in his arms knowing he will catch you, and he does, even though outside was cold, his arms felt just as warm as ever. His lips even come in contact with yours, leaving a sweet feeling behind. “You came.” Voice barely a whisper, fighting back tears since you’ve cried too much lately. “I promised.” He also whispers to you, leading you both back inside, you still wrapped around in his arms. Once your feet were on the ground you could examine him, wondering if he’s eating properly, or taking care of him the way he always did. He looks almost the same, only his eyes seem a little tired, but they hold so many emotions that is easy to forget about it. “I can’t stay long.” He says, voice sweet but sad, you look down, staring at his feet. “You just came, now you have to leave?” You ask a little upset. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, tomorrow we set trace for the first camp. I wish I could've come sooner to spend some time with you, but I had so many things to take care of, they didn’t allow me to leave.” His hands caress your cheek, taking in that you were upset, making his heart swell with pain. But it was for the best, his duty is to keep the people safe, you being his first priority. 

And since the attacks started being more and more aggressive, his only choice was to send you away from population until he manages to take everything under control. “When will I see you again?” You ask, biting down the sobs that want to erupt. A war could take months if not years. Jungkook bites his bottom lip and looks away from you, his voice a whisper when he says “I don’t know…”. You fall on the rocking chair, head in your hands, breaking down in the end. He comes closer and kneels in front of you, resting his forehead on top of your head, breathing heavily while trying to surpass his own tears. “Please…just stay tonight.” You mutter, looking up at him with doe, teary eyes. “I can’t, love.” He tries to resist his desires to hold and love you. “You can leave in the morning, just stay tonight, please!.” You plead, and plead, begging him to hold you tight like your life depends on it. He swears and looks away, getting up from the ground and straight to the phone on your wall, finally giving in. He calls at his base to inform them he will be there first thing in the morning, but he can’t make it tonight. He turns to you giving a small smile. “You see the things you do to me? Didn’t I say a while ago to not bring me trouble?” You laugh and open your arms for him, not taking long to feel them wrap around you. “I wonder how you didn’t see I was trouble from the first time we met?” Your voice suave, enchanting even, luring him in even more. “Oh God, how I missed you.” He says leaving kisses down your neck. “Didn’t you say you weren’t a believer when we first met?” He grins at you unbuttoning your shirt, eyes never leaving yours, making you feel hotter than the fire burning next to you. “You start to believe a little when this is the woman you have next to you.” You laugh caressing his hair gently, looking how he manages to take off your top, bra following right after. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you like this, still the hottest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He says managing to make you blush. “Let’s go upstairs.” You say trying to pull him up, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, his arms carry you to the couch nearby, laying you down on it with him on top. “Here?” You ask unsure. “Yes, here, I can’t risk letting too much time pass by.” His hands worked fast, stripping you both of your clothes and turning you around to lay on your stomach. “What are you doing?” You ask looking back, but he doesn’t respond, only maneuvers your body in such a way that your bum is up in the air, making you exposed for him. 

“Jungkook, what is this?” You ask concerned. “Relax, I’ll make you feel good in just a bit.” And then you feel it, the tip of his member running slowly from your bundle of nerves till your entrance. You gasp at the feeling, having been deprived of touch for so long made you so wet and ready. He runs up and down a few more times before you could feel him penetrate your warm walls. “Honey, this is.” Your words get stuck in your throat when he fills you up fully without any warning or preparation, but you were so excited to have him again that he just slid right up without much worry. “You take me so well, so ready for me all the time, didn’t need preparation either.” He says, hands gripping the flesh of your ass firmly while moving in and out. “I missed you, that’s why.” You manage to make out through your moans. He whines when he realizes he touched your sweet spot, making you yelp loudly, hand thrown back trying to grip his wrist. He starts going a little faster making you see stars and shapes all around the room. “I’m close.” You say, high approaching at a rapid state, but in your disbelief he denies you and stops, pulling out completely making you whine. “Why? I was almost there.” He’s never denied you in the past, why now? “Don’t be greedy, soul. I need to have you for a little longer. Who knows when I can get another glimpse at this sweet pussy.” You gasp in embarrassment as he turns you around, your hands already gripping his strong back. He kisses you once again, longer, harder and so much sweeter before entering you again. This felt different than anything you’ve done with him. Hot bubbles of pleasure were bursting around you, both your bodies warmer than the burning fire. It felt so raw and so pure, just sincere love being exchanged like it was for the last time. Getting closer to the edge once again, your husband seemingly close too, this time. He rests his head on your shoulder, his breath tickling your neck. You scratch his back when maybe the best orgasm he’s ever given you washes over, followed by the feeling of warm cum stuffing your walls. For a few minutes the only things you could hear in the room were the creaking of the fire and two bodies trying so hard to catch their panting breaths, foreheads resting against each other. 

Jungkook raises his head to look at your figure, your eyes closed in a blissful haze. He smiles sadly knowing he can’t be here much longer, lips coming closer, catching yours in another kiss. “I love you.” He says, your eyes meeting just like the first day, this time instead of terror, only love and care could be seen. “I love you too.”

All night was filled with love, your two bodies melting into one another in front of the fireplace. Jungkook made sure you knew how much he loved you and assured you that you will meet again someday. Opening your eyes, trying to adjust to the light that was peeking through your bedroom window. You scanned the room remembering the events that happened last night making you smile, turning around you expected to see the face of your sleeping husband, but the bed was cold. You frown, knowing what it ment, he already left. 

He did say goodbye last night, but you were too tired to acknowledge it. You get up from the bed, legs almost giving up. You were dressed up in warm pajamas and even cleaned out, he must have done it for you while you were falling asleep. Going down the stairs, the house was empty, the car was not in front of your door anymore, the fire long gone. On the kitchen table there was a singular piece of paper, a letter. “My dear wife, Y/N. I’ve been gone for so long the past few months, busy and away. Forgive me. I know I might have never been the best husband for you, I always felt like I’ve been depriving you of the freedom you always craved for. But, believe me, all that I do is for you to get that freedom one day. I might be a hypocrite, making you wait over and over for me to come home just to give you bits and pieces of what you truly deserve.

And I thought of letting you go, having you achieve your own dreams and goals, but I am a greedy man…

It does not matter how far you run, it makes me run even faster after you. It does not matter how much you push me away, it just makes me want to come to you even more.

So, please, forgive me for everything. Not being there for you, letting you in the dark, wandering around uncertain paths. 

And in my shame I ask for you to wait for me once again, carry the thought of me in your head, and the tag I gave you close to your heart so you don’t forget me.

Until we meet again, my soul.

Yours to love, Jeon Jungkook.”

Soft tears fall onto the piece of paper, making the ink run, you fall to the ground clutching the piece close to your chest. 

How can you even forget him? You are so grateful for what he’s done for you. You smile, wiping your tears. The silver tag dangling in the air. You bring it close to your lips, leaving a warm kiss on his name, the name of the man who makes you feel so much. “I’ll wait for you, my love.” You whisper, clutching everything tight to you, praying he’ll come home safe and unharmed. One day you’ll have him back in your arms again.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

31 December 1956

The last day of December.

Outside heavy snow is ripping through the night sky, letting a thick layer gather on the ground. In the suburbs a house could be seen, on the front porch the snow has been swept away. Looking towards the house, the man admires the scenery in front of him. Inside only a small light could be seen coming out from the front window, lighting his way. He takes small steps through the crunching snow, feet planted right outside the door when he’s hit with the warmth of home. His home. He doesn’t knock, only opens the door slowly, letting his frame inside.

In front of the fireplace, rocking on a chair, a woman could be seen. Her hands quickly knitting what seemed to be a small blanket. His eyes warm up at the sight in front of him, and she finally acknowledges his presence, stopping her hands to look at him. He smiles, taking a step closer until his eyes widen in surprise. With love filled eyes she looks at him, while her small hands uncover what seem to be the small outline of a belly. “Welcome home.” She says, opening her arms, making his eyes burn with happy tears, gently throwing himself in them.

Resting his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat,

December has never felt so warm before.

[garden0fyves]

thinking about... comforting d1 athlete!toji after he gets injured on a bad play.

(set earlier on in their relationship!)

you watched it happen live and it unfortunately took everything in you not to panic and go out onto the field. your heart hammered in your chest when toji didn't get up after taking a hit to the shoulder. instead, he grasped his shoulder with his free hand before using that same hand to hit his helmet. toji isn't one to go down on a play and stay down, but the sickening pop! of his shoulder was unmistakable even for him.

toji couldn't feel the pain yet, but by the way his shoulder rested in his pads he knew something was wrong. he'd grabbed at his shoulder to find out himself, but when he felt nothing he'd resorted to hitting his helmet. he hated injuries. he hated them because he was here to play his sport, if he couldn't do that without getting injured by a stupid fucking tackle then what good was he? anger and embarrassment fight for dominance in his chest as he lays on the field, but somehow shame beats them both. shame that you had to see this. shame that he'd gone down because of something so stupid.

everything between being taken off the field and reaching the athletic training room is blurry to toji. he doesn't truly clock in until he feels your soft hand cup his cheek. "you okay?" he scoffs at the question, glancing up at you with tired eyes. you silently note how dull his eyes look, how he looks hopeless before his recovery even begins. "i'm out for a fucking month and a half and they've got naoya taking my spot. i'm peachy fucking keen, sweetheart." his tone is rude and his words frustrated, but none of it is taken personally. you only hum, scratching your manicured nails through his scalp as he speaks.

"you dislocated your shoulder baby, it's not the end of the world." your fingers slide from his hair to gently brush against the sling they've settled his beefy arm into. "it could've been worse. didn't shiu break his nose last year after someone grabbed his face mask and they both went down? he was done for the season because of how late it was." toji doesn't want to be babied. you know this and learned the hard way after a rough loss. he wants realistic. he wants to just know why and how it'll all be fine. "we're still early in the season. this is only, what? game two out of twelve? you're missing four games at max because of bye week, baby. six weeks is procedure but you're going to get better quicker than that. you know that."

toji scoffs again, this time rolling his eyes for further emphasis of his failure to see your point. "still four fuckin' games i'm missing. four games less in my season. four games naoya’s playin’." he clenches his fist against his sweatpants. the material curls under his hand awkwardly, forcing your eyes downward to where his hand rests. "okay, and you've got nothing to worry about. your cousin fucking sucks. he got into this school for football because his parents are donors. this is raw passion and talent, toji. they know how good you are, you won't be any less valuable because you're human."

you won’t admit it, but given the amount of time you’ve been friends with toji and now dating him, you’ve taken the time to understand american football. it makes you feel closer to him, in a sense. you understand his pain just a little bit better by doing your research. “your coaches may hate your attitude but they value you, toji. this is the first of many inevitable injuries. it’s a matter of what you’re going to do. stop cryin’ and follow your treatment plan.” your nose scrunches at the thought of your boyfriend moping about his injury. you want the hard-working man that’s grinded for everything he has now. you know this isn’t moping, rather anger at his current circumstance. but knowing the toji you know—the one you were friends with and are falling in love with—he’s too resilient to fall into this spiral he wants to fall into so desperately.

this is oddly very hot to toji. he hasn't been injured since the two of you got together, and the two of you talk about football very loosely. he's never heard you talk about his sport and his career so intensely and for some reason it makes you more attractive. "look at you." his lips curl into that smug smile that you 'hate' oh so much. "you learnin' ball for me, pretty girl?” it’s cute, the way you turn away from him in clear bashfulness. you’re so fucking cute, man. “i’m just…” you heave a soft sigh. “i know this means a lot to you, so i’m trying.” and for some reason toji’s heart clenches. he’s used to being hated. to being mistreated by his family, barely claimed by his own cousin. then here came you. learning how his sport works just to feel closer to him. just because it means a lot to him. he can’t fuck this up.

“you’re doing just fine, sweetheart.” he doesn’t know how to thank you properly, but the way you smile down at him tells him that was enough. your hand falls from his shoulder to grasp the one previously clenching the cotton of his sweatpants. you slide onto the training table next to him, feet dangling off the side. “i know i am. you know, smart pretty girl? ‘s my whole thing.” your eyes are bright as you tease him. you gently bump into his uninjured shoulder, giggling when he lets out a breath you take as a laugh. “i meant what i said, toji. i’ll help you with your protocol if i have to.” you squeeze his hand, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “i don’t know what you’ve been through that makes you so angry at your circumstances. but, until you’re ready to tell me i’ll be here at every twist and turn. i told you when we first got together that it wouldn’t matter to me if you didn’t go pro, because it doesn’t. i just want you to be happy. and healthy.”

toji’s silent following your words. for once in his life he doesn’t know what to say. there’s no snarky reply or harsh retort begging to be freed from his tongue. he just stares at you. the way he can tell you’re serious. the love that shines in your eyes. he wants to tell you he loves you, but that voice in the back of his mind says this is temporary. toji watches the cogs in your brain turn, until finally you press the lightest of kisses to his lips. “okay.” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours before you can pull away. “okay?” you repeat once, just for reassurance. “okay.”

[1999hiru]

somno with ellie x reader?

yes … yessss … absolutely … putting myself to sleep right now for her (◕◡◕) thank you for your request anon !!!!!!!! i am a somno girl through and through <3<3<3

cw. dubcon, loser! pervert! ellie, ellie using you to masturbate, you're drunk and ellie takes advantage of you, mention of the word vomit

─────────────────────────

ellie likes to think that she’s contained. calm, collected, never lets her feelings get the best of her. but that wasn’t her. not at all, she’s always been very immature—starting fights for no reason, getting ticked off when joel lectures her about what she had done, an eye roll every time maria had reminded her about responsibilities. instead of realizing that, yeah maybe i could’ve died back there and i should apologize, a quick rebuttal always comes first. she never thinks about the severity of the situation. ellie acts before she can even process what she had done wrong, she’d rather not think about it honestly, her stupidity or carelessness. she never even really operated like that in the first place.

ellie wishes that she was like that though. doing the right thing even when it was hard. especially in this moment—you’re drunk and passed out on her bed, another annual jackson party wringing you dry. she feels dirty when she can’t help but to strip off your clothes, skinny fingers peeling off your top. you’re sweaty, and you probably have splashes of vomit on it. she tries to rationalize with herself, but she knows that taking off your bra isn’t necessary. it really isnt, but her fingers are moving before she can think about it. your tits are splayed out now, covered in the moonlight seeping through her windows. she exhales a shaky breath when she looks at you. this was wrong. very wrong, but ellie keeps staring at your perky nipples, salivating. the smell of alcohol is rough. you had a lot to drink and too much ambition, but ellie decided to be a good person and take you "home," not really specifying where home was. that thought was long discarded when she leans down, noticing that the scent doesn’t really bother her anymore when she gets close enough to your nipples, too eager and curious, a gentle kitten lick to the bud.

she has a hand wrapped around your throat, softly, just testing. she had always thought about doing that to you, feeling every gulp and movement of your throat underneath her fingertips. she’s sucking on your nipple, gently, afraid that if she makes any noise it’ll remind her of how sick she is. your sweat is salty on her tongue and she wanted more. wanted to clean you off until you were covered in her saliva, in her. she feels horrible, a storm of shame and embarrassment swirling in the pit of her stomach, but she can’t help it—you just do this to her. you did this to her the day she met you. a warm smile and the crinkles in your eyes when you laughed. she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with you either, even when you had hung out with her and dina often, something about you just made her spin.

that’s why it was easier to do this to you. you weren’t awake, couldn’t judge her for being so irrational and irresponsible. she just needed her fix. and you were so pretty, under the soft gleam of the moonlight. it couldn’t hurt to do this just once right?

she’s quickly shoving down her pants along with her boxers, rubbing her slick across her folds. she moans quietly, staring right at you while she hovers on top of you, the only time she's ever had the confidence to look at you properly. she’s ridiculously wet when she hasn’t even done anything yet, just perverted touches and thoughts racing through her head—ellie takes your limp hand from your side, gripping your wrist and rubbing herself with it. she’s moving you like a doll, controlling you, it’s a little awkward since you’re unconscious, you can't fuck them into her like she so desperately hoped for. your fingers are angled downwards and she’s grinding right on top of them, moaning when your knuckles bump her clit. your fingers are getting messy, covered in ellie.

ellie feels gross—using you like this. but there was something beautiful about taking you in secret. so secret that only ellie knows, not even you, and you're making her feel so good. she's used her fingers a million times before, rubbing relentlessly until she was sore to the thought of you. your smiles when you passed by, your sweet small talk when you both were putting your horses away at the same time. your hands felt different, so much better and pure. ellie likes to think that she's the first to have you like this. all laid out for her, nothing that could stop her in this moment. no nagging from joel, or anyone else. just her and you.

ellie's biting her lip to stop the loud whimpers spilling from her lips, your name an occasional strangled sound in the air. almost a whisper, precious on her tongue. her hands are tightening around your wrist, dragging it rougher and rougher against her cunt, feeling her own wetness spread along her inner thighs and dripping down your fingers. she's still staring you, sweat trickling over her slit brow and down her face. she thinks you look so beautiful when you're asleep, even more so when you're awake. but something depraved is growing in ellie, seeing you unconscious. your pretty tits spread in front of her, the shadow of your eyelashes against your skin. it makes ellie hot, burning, her body warm to the touch. she could probably come just by looking at you like this.

a part of ellie wishes you were awake. that you wholly accepted her for what a "bad" person she was. you seeing her desperate and taking her like she was taking you, she wanted it—but she was afraid. she knows that she'll never be able to look you in the eye for sure after this, but it feels too good. your fingers are connecting with her, so close, pulling the softest whimpers and moans from her throat. she wants to come all over them and stare, watch the obscenity trickle down your pretty hands.

"ah, fuck, i'm gonna.." ellie mutters, watching as you softly breathe under her. she grinds against you once, hard, before coming undone. she's muttering a blabbered string of curse words, fucking herself through her high. she feels every slide of her pussy across the sides and tops of your fingers, making sure she rubs herself on all of them. ellie can only hear the loud pounding of her heart in her ears now, puffing out heavy tired breaths. she pulls away from you and brings your hand up to the light. it's glistening, slick with arousal and ellie's love. she smiles at the sight before bringing them to her lips, licking everywhere—in between your digits, your palm.

she'll clean you up now, bring you home. tuck you into bed and let dina know you got home safely. when the next day rolls around, you're met with a horrible hangover and no recollection of last night's events. dina had let you know that ellie brought you home, cleaned you up, left a water bottle and some painkillers she had leftover in her bathroom cabinet. you're a little confused when you give ellie your gratitude when you see her, watching as her body visibly tenses. oh well, she was always a little distant!

tag list ♡

@hyperbabes

[muletia]

I'M WHEEZING AT THAT OBSESSED!OPTIMUS VS OBSESSED!MEGATRON ASK HAAAAAAA Because I'm just imagining that Team Prime is still unaware why Megatron keeps focusing on kidnapping the same human again and again. Cue dramatic face off and Acree saying he's got to stop tormenting their friend and cue the dread. The sinking feeling the other Deceptions have when they look to their leader looking offended by that assumption and please no, Primus no, he better not-

"I am making sure my Queen stays where she belongs! WITH ME!!!"

He fragging said it.

The secondhand embarrassment is through the roof for them. The blank expressions that are melting into disbelief, shock, confusion, and etc on their enemies as their leader goes on and on about his true feelings and they are tempted to just surrender now. It can't get more humiliating than THIS! One or two of them being this close 👌 to defecting to the other side.

And Ratchet is looking at the darkening look on Optimus's face and wondering if for once they'll need to be ready to restrain him from killing Megatron.

Miko: Don't worry Optimus, you got this! True love always wins-

Jack: [covering her mouth] Please stop.

lmaooo, megs acting so cringe that even his own team is done with his bullshit. i think at this point you’d be embarrassed too, hiding your face in your hands and groaning in shame because you just want to go home already. becoming the queen of the decepticon warlord was not on your bingo card. this is the one and only moment where you and his subordinates actually agree on something. maybe even one vehicon would secretly sneak you back home and desert lmao.

on optimus’s side, things aren’t looking too great after this stunt either. he’s suffering from unrequited feelings, his obsession is literally draining his energy because he loves you just a bit too much, and now he has to fight megatron for your affection??? nah, the no-killing rule goes straight out the window

[aayakashii]

how do they ask for consent?

Warning: NSFW, not super explicit but still gtfo if you're a minor.

Consent is sexy!! I had this idea in a dream and I had to write it (⃔ *`꒳´ * )⃕↝

Also, if some of these characters can't touch or be touched, well. Now they can. GET TOUCHED IDIOT 🫳👉🤲🤚🤜🤲🫵👐🫳👉🫸🫱🖐🤝👐👇🤌🫷🫴👉🤲🫲👐👈🤝🤲

Jin

He feels disgraceful, but the white hot feeling in his groin can't be ignored any longer. He glares at you, the reason for his predicament, and threads his fingers through your hair. You can see the conflict in his eyes as he gets closer, his white porcelain skin tinted pink and hot to your touch. And when he presses his lips against yours, all doubt fades away. He holds your body like it's his lifeline and when your lips part, he allows himself to say one word he would never say to anyone else but you: "please".

Tohma

He desperately holds one of your hand with both of his and kisses each one of your knuckles, slowly – a plea for you to allow him to touch you further as his gaze burns deep into your eyes. He deliberately kisses you with an open mouth, the wet sound of his lips bringing shivers down your spine, much to his pleasure. Once you nod, he finally allows himself to pull you flush against his body. There's no running away from him now.

Kaito

All blushes and stutters. His eyes are hazed and his breath comes out in puffs while he tries to voice out his desire for you, but fails. His face is mere inches from yours and his gaze is so intense that it could burn. He places his hands onto your shoulders, fingers digging into your skin as he pushes the fabric of your shirt away. Give him permission or take him out of his misery. He's been in your hands since the beginning.

Lucas

He sits on his feet, a hand on top of his chest so he can feel his own racing, loud heart. He opens and closes his mouth, trying to think of the words to say. Once he finally gathers the courage, he simply mumbles a "can I?" and he hates how feverish he sounds. His heart takes a bigger leap when he feels your hand against his cheek and the flustered smile on your face when you say yes. He quickly realizes that being yours is something he could get used to.

Alan

His hands fist the sheets of your bed, knuckles going white with the effort. He nuzzles his nose against your cheeks and he pants, hot breath against your skin, haggard like you stole all the air from his lungs – and you might as well have done that. Self-control shackles him in place, but anguished desire pulls him to you and he feels his restraint rip apart. And still, he'll never ask, but he'll silently scream for your permission – permission to place his wretched hands all over your body. If you're able to hear it, let him dive into you. He's starved of your touch.

Leo

It's not so simple. First, he needs to cross over the hurdle of his own shame. He is just embarrassed that he needs you so much, but once he accepts it, he's an unstoppable force: doe eyes, batting eyelashes and bratty pouts to convince you of touching him right where he needs you. He's all arms over your shoulders and kisses on the corner of your lips until you give him the answer he wants. And once you do, he promises you won't forget the feeling of his skin against yours.

Sho

It's simple. He doesn't fight himself when it comes to you. His scarred knuckles run gently over the skin of your cheeks and his lips brush over yours, as he breathes deeply to ask for your permission to take things further, loud and clear despite the slight tremble in his voice – permission to fulfill all the feverish dreams he has at night when he's alone and no party can substitute the high of your skin against his. Allow him to taste you like you do his food.

Haru

His hands find their refuge on the plush of your hips. From this up close, you can see small freckles peppering his sweaty skin, surely a consequence of all his work under the sun, and the pretty blush spreading through his face. Haru licks his dried lips, hands still kneading your hips as he gulps, readying himself to ask you for your touch – he figures that, at this point, he was ready to beg. He rests his forehead against yours and a sunny smile spreads on his face when you give him permission into your body. He never knew how much he wanted you until now.

Towa

He kisses you under the stars, in the middle of the fields, on top of the hills, in the deepest caves. If you need him to prove his love to you, he'll spend a lifetime smothering you in kisses, waiting until you reveal your most intimate parts to him. Every kiss will be a question, but he doesn't need an answer. He just loves to love you. He lets you take the reigns and choose the timing. Whenever you allow him in you, it'll be perfect and romantic enough for him. He just wants you to love him back.

Ren

He worries you might run as soon as he shows interest. He wants it, he so desperately wants it, but what if he messes it all up? What if you don’t feel the same? Ren gets so tangled up in the "what ifs" that it takes a while for him to get out of his own head. His question is hurried and mumbled, like he's trying to quickly rip out a bandaid so it'd hurt less; so the shame would drown him in one go once you refuse his touches. Suffice to say, he's confused once you open yourself to him. He thinks you're insane, but he'd be damned to let this chance pass.

Taiga

He kneels in front of you and licks a long stripe on your clothed crotch. He glares at you from under his lashes – a predatory gaze if you've ever seen one – while his teeth pierce the waistband of your pants, pulling it just a little, while his hands greedily clutch handfuls of your bottom. He could rip your clothes off in seconds if he wanted to, but he patiently waits for you to answer his silent question. It's so much nicer when you beg for him.

Romeo

He recognizes he is a man of many sins – pride and greed have been part of him since his early age. So it's rather ironic when it all sends him into a spiral of conflict when it comes to you. His pride prevents him from outright asking you for your attention, but his greed demands you all for himself. A new sin, however, overpowers everything: lust. He can't run, can't hide from the stirring in his insides when he sees you. It is then, that trapping you between himself and one of the golden walls of his office, he finally asks you, breathless and flustered, if you'd help him quell this urge.

Ritsu

He hates everything that he can't understand. Things he can't organize, control, jot down on his notes or record in his phone. Still, he can't help but be addicted to this maddening desire he feels for you, deep inside his core. It's unpredictable, unreliable, and beyond his comprehension. But he loves it. Words, to him, have never been a problem, not even when he's embarrassed beyond belief. He holds your hands firmly and openly tells you of his feelings – of his needs. And if you'll have him, he'll do his best. Just like with everything he does in his life.

Subaru

He can't find the words to explain himself to you. The blush on his neck, his cheeks and the tip of his ears burn his skin, and he pants – velvety smooth lips pouting with the weight of the words he can't say. He reaches out for your hand, holding it gently against his cheeks and he stares at you with a gaze so lustful that you shiver, as if he managed to strip you bare with a single look. He hopes you understand his gestures and give him reprieve from the need in his body. Set those words stuck in his throat free, with your touch, please.

Haku

His hands glide up and down your arms, fingertips hover gently over your skin to elicit goosebumps – he takes his sweet, sweet time with all of it. He places kisses on your jaw and begs you not to be cruel and to please, please let him in. He's his family disgrace – what is dignity to him when you, of all people, are involved? If you wanted to, he'd get down on his knees and kiss your feet like a devotee worshipping his deity. He'd pray for you to let him have you. All for you to allow him to touch the parts of your body he has only dreamed of.

Zenji

He does not hesitate to voice his desires loud and clear. Gently tilting your chin up to look into his red eyes as he asks you whether you'd give him the honor of being intimate with you after smothering you with hot, loud kisses. His intensity is suffocating. Having someone loving you so openly and loudly is dizzying and it's okay my love, he understands. The lightest touch already inspires him more than any poet's muse ever did. He'll patiently wait (though with bated breath) for you to turn his world upside down once you let him in.

Ed

Not even over 400 years of life could prepare him for this surprise – a weathered vampire, lusting for a meek little human. He wastes no time inside his mind and goes straight to you. His arms embrace your waist, and his lips place dangerous kisses on the column of your neck – tongue darting out to feel the inviting pulse of your carotid artery. He whispers his question while nibbling the lobe of your ear and, if you're not ready yet, it's okay. He can be patient, but don't make him wait too much. He needs to eat and you smell like his new favorite food.

Rui

He's confident in his ability to convince you. He knows cute winks and silly flirts won't work, don't worry. He decides to be honest: to hold you flush against his body, arms circling your waist as he rests his forehead against yours. He whispers in secrecy how much he is desperate to touch you, to feel you against his tongue, his fingertips, his skin. He wonders if you'd have him, yours to do as you please. When you smile in the kiss you place upon his lips as an answer, Rui melts down under you, relief washing over his body. All that's left is this maddening lovesickness that feels incurable. But anyway, simplicity sometimes is best.

Lyca

He's confused, and maybe a little scared. He burrows his face in the crook of your neck and drowns himself in your scent – only for the feeling to worsen. He bares his teeth, the need to bite down on your flesh and never let you go almost overwhelming him. You're the only one he trusts with this. Would you help him? He knows it's embarrassing, but you're the only person he can think of at the moment, the only one he wants. He can barely control his hips as he helplessly humps against your thigh. He's sorry, he's sorry. Please take him into your arms and help him?

Yuri

He wonders for a second if he should treat you like an experiment. On... how would he feel during and after intercourse. He sighs, knowing his excuse is terrible. It's hard, admitting to himself that he wanted you. But maybe telling you was still harder. He decides to announce it, like he would announce the results of an exam. It's easier, and he feels less like dying this way. He stammers, cheeks furiously red, as he tries to ask you for your "cooperation" and sighs, running a hand on his sweaty forehead when you smile and agree. Don't tease him. He has no experience in this. If you want him to be more romantic, he'll need practice. You'll practice with him, won't you?

Jiro

Jarring, is how he'd act. As soon as he realized he wanted to be intimate with you, he made a beeline towards your door. Things are simple with Jiro, no need for convoluted explications. He wants you, do you want him back? He makes his point clear by grabbing your hand and placing it on his crotch and you nearly faint at the feeling of him already eager for you. He'd truly appreciate it if you accepted. Just be aware that these things are chronic, okay? Therefore, he might need your assistance again quite soon.

[juletheghoul]

sending you so much love and affection omg

now imagine acacius takimg care of girlwife (YOU!!!) when she’s sick

She probably worked when she was still a slave and sick so she’s not used to staying in bed and not doing anything

Until Acacius finds her sniffling and coughing and wrapping a shawl tighter around her shoulders and everything inside him just tenses up because he wants to pick her up and wrap her in blankets and love and hold her until she gets better (he gets sick in the process)

literally you are all so fucking amazing for these requests and I love them, please enjoy xoxo

warnings: lovesick Marcus, actual sick you (before his confession, but after you've been intimate)

Masterlist series masterlist

-

Your head aches, and the sun is far too bright. 

With a groan, and a bone deep shiver you rise from your bed, and move through the motions. The water in your basin feels cold as ice, as does the floor beneath your feet. You don’t want to admit it, but you can feel the fever burning right through you. Every fibre of your being urges you to crawl back into bed, to pull the blanket up tight and sleep it off but alas, there is work to be done and your time is not your own.

The women in the kitchen see it on your face as soon as you walk in. They try to direct you back to your chambers but you brush them away, it is not in your nature to disappoint, it is most definitely not in your nature to leave your duties for someone else. With a defeated sigh, you accept the tea they press into your hands, you sit where they point to and finish it before going about your day. 

The tea does help, and you manage to wash Marcus’ linens, albeit slower than usual. He finds you as you hang them, frowning at the state of you. 

“What is the matter, Girl?” He comes close, watching the way you move as though wading through thick honey.

“Apologies Dominus, I am moving as fast as I can.” You crouch down, holding onto the basket for stability. His hands pull you up and into his arms. He hisses at the touch. 

“Your skin is hot as fire, come, leave this.” He pulls you towards the house, you try to fight him. 

“I must finish–”

“You must rest. Come.” His command is iron, and you have no choice but to obey. He holds onto your waist, drapes your arm around his neck and within a few moments you are in your bed. He leaves you there, but only for a moment. 

“Warm tea, and stew will be brought to you.” A wave of something roils in your belly, an embarrassment at being so weak, at being confined to your chambers. That he must care for you brings you shame. 

“Dominus, I can still be of use, forgive my weakness.” You cough, your body shaking with the effort of it. 

“Nonsense Girl, there is no weakness that I can see. I need you healthy in order to serve me, and until you are once more you will stay in bed.” He sits beside you, his hand rubs at your arm, a tender, unexpectedly soothing thing. It almost makes you want to cry. A sniffle escapes, one he does not miss.

“Are you in pain?” His hand cups your face, and the tears escape.

“No Dominus, I just…” You take a deep breath, let out a deep sigh, “I am overwhelmed.” You wipe them away, hide from his gaze. 

“Shall I stay until you fall asleep?” He turns your face, sweeps a thumb under your eye and the feeling swells bigger still.

“I do not want to inconvenience you Dominus, I know well that your time is precious.” He mumbles something, something that sounds an awful lot like not so precious as you, but your head aches and you cannot trust your senses.

“I will dictate what is worthy of my time, come.” He lays beside you, and opens his arms. With a sob, you cling to him, take in his warmth and succumb to sleep. 

---

[startaegi]

CHAPTER 006. favourite crime.

in which namgyu breaks the heart of his childhood sweetheart and tries to piece it back together again while fighting death.

previous next masterlist playlist

You awoke to the sound of classical music. For a second, you couldn't recall where you were; the thin mattress and scratchy blanket did not belong to you. You slowly sat up, wiping the sleep from your eyes. It all returned to you when you gazed upon Namgyu in the next bunk. He was also waking up, stretching the knots from his neck. You were glad to see he also got some sleep.

You moved to the edge of the bed, legs hanging over the side. You stretched out your body, groaning at the pain in your back, you slept curled so far into yourself you weren't sure you would be able to undo it.

"Stay with me today," Namgyu said, breaking the silence between you.

You looked up from your feet, eyes catching his. He looked exhausted. "Just because you were here last night doesn't mean we're friends again." Your feet hit the floor before he could reply. "I appreciate you watching over me, but I'm not going to suddenly forget everything that happened, Namgyu."

He flinched at your words, teeth tucked between his lips. He opened them to speak when he was interrupted by his purple-haired companion. "Namsu, this must be your lovely fiancé." He smirked. You stared at him, a bored look on your face. "Hello, Senorita"

You ignored him, turning to face Namgyu, "Pick the triangle."

He looked back in confusion, moving from the bed to follow you as you walked away. "What do you mean?" He shouted after you. "What triangle?"

You heard player 230 speak over him, "Chicks, man, they talk in riddles."

The doors opened with an abrupt bang, guards entering with their heads held high. You approached Daeho and the other men you had met the previous night. An announcement came through the speaker: "Attention, the second game will begin momentarily. Please follow the instructions from our staff."

The players didn't take long to form a line, all heading in the same direction. You followed closely behind Daeho, who'd repeated a mantra to himself to pick the triangle. You hoped on your walk that Namgyu also remembered your words; despite your coldness, you would never wish for him to be dead. You wouldn't know what to do with yourself.

The double doors opened into a large playroom. The guards welcomed them inside. Everyone mimicked your actions, looking around the room in confusion and wonder. Two large rainbow circles stood out against the sand, strangely resembling a racetrack.

"Welcome to your second game," The woman's voice said through a speaker. "This game will be played in teams." You, although not knowing much about children's games, knew Dalgona was not played in teams. 456 was also being played. "Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes"

456's face was an expression of distraught as the player who looked to be a friend spoke up, "Is Dalgona a team game?"

Player 100, who had been getting on your nerves from the first day, interrupted, "Aren't we playing the Dalgona game?"

"No, it doesn't look like it," player 456 replied, his voice on edge.

"What's the game?" player 100 asked.

"I'm not sure."

"What? You said you'd done this before," The old man spat. His close allies huddled around him in agreement. "That triangle was the easiest. Was that all bullshit?"

"I'm sorry," the previous winner apologised, bowing his head in shame.

"Sorry won't cut it! You talked like you knew everything," Player 100 seethed. "All these people believed your bullshit. What are you going to do? Will you take responsibility?"

Before you could open your mouth to support him, player 001 stepped in front. "That's enough," he ordered.

Player 100 jolted back, clearly intimidated. He stuttered a little, embarrassed at being confronted when the woman's voice called across the yard again. "Please divide into teams now," she said, and a ten-minute timer appeared on the wall above them.

You felt Daeho tug at your sleeve and hook his arm with yours. It was funny how comfortable you had become with him in such a short amount of time. "Let's stick together," he whispered.

You nodded in reply.

"All right, let's be real men and give it a shot," Player 390 said, hands on his hips. You awkwardly stood beside Daeho, unsure if the other men had noticed your quiet presence. "It's a children's game, right? We used to play games all the time."

Daeho gave you a comforting smile before speaking up. "That's right, sirs. We'll join you," he said, motioning towards you beside him. "I feel like I can do anything with you."

Player 390 looked at you wearily. Of course, to a group of men in a competition that could result in death, you, as a woman, was seen as weak. You felt like shrinking in on yourself, uneasy under his stare, but you held your head high.

Player 001 noticed the tension between you both, quickly interjecting, "We have everyone then," He said and then pointed to each player, counting as he went, his finger landing on you last. "Five"

You smiled, bowing. "Thank you, sir."

It was silly to thank him for such a thing, but he was, in a sense, saving your life—that was if they won. He smiled back at you with a nod, and although all seemed well, you could still sense Player 390 still felt uneasy toward you.

They made small talk for the next few minutes, eyeing the bustling crowd as each player went to the next, begging to be accepted. It reminded you of school, being looked down upon as you practically begged the other children to be your friend. These games were just another popularity contest.

"Excuse me," a soft voice interrupted. You looked from the other players to a girl, not much younger than you, with 222 embroidered on her chest. "Can I join you?" she questioned.

"Sorry, we already have five people" You were shocked that the person to reply was 390.

"Please help me," The girl pleaded, resting a hand on her stomach. "I'm pregnant."

Your breath caught in your throat. How on earth had she been allowed to participate?

"Oh, your belly.." Daeho murmured, his face also matching yours.

"You can join," You finally said, unhooking your arm from Daeho's. "I'll find another team."

"What-" Daeho stuttered, grabbing onto your wrist. "You can't"

You shook your head, gently removing his hand from your touch. "I might be able to find a team, but she might not be so lucky," You said honestly, then turned to 222. "Sorry"

The girl stood twiddling with the sleeves of her zipper, "You don't have to do that."

"Are you sure?" Player 001 questioned his attention on you.

You nodded, "I'll see you all after the game," you said, hoping your words rang true. Then, you faced Daeho again. "Don't die"

"Wait, but-" Daeho started again but stopped, finally accepting that you wouldn't be changing your mind. "Please stay safe."

You wandered around for the next minute or so, your heart beginning to pound as you realised how difficult it would be. Every group you passed was already huddled together in five or staring you down to the point it wouldn't be worth asking. You, however, remained calm, your panic only simmering on the inside. If they saw a panicked girl, there was no way anyone would accept you.

Namgyu's rushing figure entered your vision, passing through the countless bodies with a shove. He called your name as he approached you. "You don't have a group?"

You were quick to reply, "I do." It was like a part of you didn't want him to see you struggle. Didn't want him to be the reason you were suddenly okay again. You refused to give him the satisfaction.

"Why are you walking around like you're lost then?" He questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm just stretching my legs. Isn't it stuffy in here?" You laughed, fake and a little anxiously. "Well, I should get back on my walk, goodbye."

You didn't turn back to see his reaction, but you imagined he was glued to the spot in confusion. You quickly walked through the groups of people in hopes of losing Namgyu, desperately on the lookout for anyone alone or in smaller huddles. A face came into view, a woman you had briefly passed on a few occasions. She was alone like you.

You approached the woman without hesitation, "Do you want to join me?" You asked abruptly, alarming the stranger.

"Oh," She replied, taken aback, unclasping her hands before answering. "I would like that."

You smiled thankfully, "Can you see anyone else alone?"

"I noticed some players earlier, but they were hesitant."

You didn't let that stop you, "Show me."

The pair that Hyunju, the woman you had first teamed up with, had noticed reluctantly joined your group. You could tell they were silently judging her; the older woman had more than once eyed Hyunju in a not-so-nice manner. You hadn't known her for too long, but you could already sense a kind aura around her. You didn't understand.

All players sat in perfectly neat rows of five inside the rainbowed circles. The woman on the speaker announced that the next game would be a six-legged pentathlon. You felt your hands become sweaty at the words, and your legs jittered as you controlled yourself to sit still. The inside of your lips had become a mess, and the metallic taste of blood coated your tongue. Five mini-games to complete in five minutes. Five games you had no idea how to play.

"What game are you good at?" Hyunju asked through the cloudy haze, then called your name when she earned no reply. 

"None," you panicked. "I don't know any of these games." You didn't have a chance to be insecure about appearing weak. You were genuinely terrified.

Hyunju grasped your hand reassuringly, her features softening. "You're okay," she said. "You played Ddajki before you came here, right?" You nodded. "And you must've won a few rounds, or you wouldn't be here?" Again, you nodded. "Then you can play Ddajki."

"Okay," You replied, clutching Hyunju's hand tighter. "I don't want to be the reason you all die."

Hyunju shook her head, this time taking both of your hands in her own, "We aren't going to die, okay?" She reassured. "We'll get through this."

When the time came for your team to play their turn, you were forever grateful to Hyunju. You felt more confident in your ability to not kill your new teammates despite the fact your shaking limbs said otherwise. You, Hyunju, and your other teammates, who you now knew as Geumja, Yongsik, and Seonnyeo stood at the start line, a look of determination on each of your faces.

"I believe we can do this," Hyunju said positively, but her voice shook as she spoke. "Let's show everyone else here that these games are no big deal."

You all nodded in agreement, hesitantly but ready for whatever may come at you. The speaker's voice blared across the room as the guards attached each of your legs together, "Teams three and four, get ready."

Like a speed race, you linked arms together, one by one, Seonnyeo praying to her gods to protect her. You weren't one to believe, but you found yourself following along to her prayer, begging them to spare you this time, to save Namgyu and your new friends you had found in this messed-up place, to give them one more chance at life.

A gunshot bounced off the walls, signaling the start of the pentathlon. You didn't have time to think before you took off across the track, chanting one-two as you went.

You snatched up the blue and red Ddajki cards, fixed on the coloured squares, attempting to ignore the hundreds of eyes upon you. You threw the blue card to the ground, narrowly missing the red. You groaned in frustration and tried again, missing once more.

"Fail" The woman repeated each time you attempted another go.

"You're okay," Hyunju said from beside you. "Take your time."

You breathed heavily through your nose, struggling to take in a big enough breath. The thought that death may be around the corner sent your heart racing.

"Try it with the other side," Hyunju suggested, fast and panicked but comfortingly. "The other side," she said again as you turned over the blue card.

With one final smack, the red card was finally flipped. You had never felt such relief in your entire years of living. Abrupt cheers echoed around you, your teammates also matching the crowd. You looked at them in shock.

"You did it!" They shouted proudly. "Okay, let's go, next one!"

You all carefully walked, quick enough to get there in a few seconds but slow enough that you wouldn't topple over. This repeated for the next four games. The player playing would take their time but eventually succeeded in moving them to the next. You didn't once dare look at the timer, knowing it would only frighten you more. Hyunju had been the last to play, succeeding in a matter of seconds and sending the entire playground into ecstatic cheers.

You couldn't fully celebrate your win—not when you knew Namgyu was yet to play, his proud yet anxious face staring up at you from the crowd. You had all faith that he would conquer it. He was never a person to give up, and his competitive streak gave you hope he wouldn't let down without a fight. You just hoped his teammates had the same ambition.

previous next masterlist playlist

notes . . . for the sake of the story (which i have big ideas for so hopefully it'll make up for no youngmi) youngmi isn't going to be here 💔 lets pretend shes off enjoying her life debt free and she never had to die!!!

taglist . . . @chrisstyle @seonghwasslytherin @princessofthepuppets @sollum @okaycharr @hoshisgalaxy @alexatthedisco @swoofllia @chxrrybomb22 @drkitten226 @ryvampr @bbyjjunie @learninglinesintherainn @smally97 @sft-core @enterplanettelex @prettywhenicry4 @zannispppp @juhdoche @nuttybeans @wagawana @xtracy-xd7 @slxtgirl69 @ihrthoney @zella-74 @ancientdarko @loverzxi @boomzen @godly-sinsx @sirenkinnie @skibidirizzzlerrrr @come-as-you-are-111 @mochimitsuri @lavboat01 @preppyfella @diaboliku-loversu @mimipolo @ourseasone @loveeblob @ritapitmargarita @xoxolakeyah @mysatnin @pearforabear @deathbytsubaki @nnamgyu @editedjeans (let me know if you wanna be added)

[ghostykapi]

hero, you and the villain.

i lost the prompt that made me write this??? HELP???

when you got home, you expected to have another routine for you to follow and to tuck into your bed after a dreadful day of working with kids

you wish you could say that, but your house in in shambles

also the fact that there are two incredibly powerful beings fighting right now around your destroyed home doesn’t help too

you don't recognize them but you can tell that your house was a casualty, and usually the government prepares a fund for that, but with you being at the far edge of your territory it might take awhile for help to come through

you can feel the tears coming in from the amount of shock, stress and anxiety coming in from your current situation, but you're a trainer of supers and even some villains, well before they became evil (for reasons you never learn anyway)

the hero recognizes you first, after being sent down to the ground with a kick that probably felt like nothing to a super. you can feel her shock when her eyes under the mask meets yours even from the distance, your glare the only warning they get

"you're mine!" the villain shouts, ready to fly down and beat the hero up into presumably into a pulp. the hero doesn't even get to process of seeing you again before moving again to block the villain's attacks

the hero is on the same level of power with the villain, her quick agile reactions help her dodge and land a few hits on her opponent.

the sparing can only go for another 10 seconds before both hero and villain fall on the ground and you're in front of them. eyes blazing and hands glowing, the only indication of use of magic

gasping and panting, the hero doesn't look up in shame, knowing how much she's fucked up today. the villain is the only one who looks up to your eyes, and suddenly everything hits her

“oh” it’s the masked villain this time who realizes who you are, and you can’t even be sure if you also recognize this one “oh gods um”

it’s only awkward silence as the three of you assessed the true damage they have done to your place, or what was once your home.

“look” you’d rather wish you would sue them or something, but the thought of amount of time it would take for someone to rebuild a home you built yourself is simply something you don’t want to think about “just can you both fight somewhere else next time preferably not near any civilian houses?”

you can barely only hold back your emotions as you glanced at your own little garden at the back of the rubble, also trashed and your years of cultivating it down to the drain.

you can feel yourself physically deflate at this and that’s what truly sets two two off in a panic

“we are” the hero and villain kneels down in front of you, taking you by surprise, even if you just did pull them down from the sky to stop the fighting “very truly sorry that we destroyed your home”

it’s only when they took of the masks off did you realize why they acted so remorseful and embarrassed when they realized who the owner of the house was

it’s your exes

park jihyo and minatozaki sana

you can only stare at them as they kneel in front of you, masks off, only looking down at the ground. too ashamed to even look at you in the eye as you processed everything

“oh my fucking god” you blink, the realization sinking in as each bone of your body screamed to get away from them. your magic flickering defensively in reflex “what the fuck?”

“we uhm” jihyo tries to start but the humiliation and embarrassment is already eating her up “didn’t mean to hit your home at all–”

“so you meant to hit other homes?!” your voice snaps them both out, the venom slowly dripping out of your tone. god forbid they hit your neighbors, but some damage has already reached a bit of their land. nayeon is gonna be pissed when she sees a part of her garden destroyed

“no!” sana tries to defend the both of them, even if it's a bit fruitless "we- we didn't mean to hit your home-but we also don't mean to imply we want to hit other homes-"

you simply stop her from continuing with a raise of your hand, her mouth immediately closing and her face getting a shade red darker.

"first you dump me because you said you wanted to ensure my identity was never found and i was safe, sound and happy"

jihyo remembers it well, the hurt in your eyes as you begged for her to reconsider. she remembers the emptiness she caused in you, barely seeing you around town for months only to find out that you disappeared, even from your friends

"then you break up with me because you said you didn't want anyone to find me and use my magic for evilness"

sana looks away from your glare, remembering your cries when she left you, when it took months for her magic to untangle with yours. it took even longer to fully accept that you were the only one who kept her from turning this way

"and now you both fucking destroy my home?" you're shouting at this point, and you couldn't care anymore. you didn't even get closure for the actions they did to you, only distraction through intense training, even when your body wasn't built for it

you try to calm down from shouting, in your anger you managed to get the magic dancing around your skin turn red. upon seeing that, both jihyo and sana felt their pride of how powerful you had become, even surpassing their limits

but it was at the cost of their actions, knowing their hearts can never have the love you once placed for them

"we'll fix your house" jihyo says "and the area around it"

"we'll also fix the land of your neighbors and we'll-"

"no"

both look at you in shock, the firm tone in your voice leave no room for anything else that opposes it.

"pack up your things, report to who ever you report to, call the kingdom for all i care for the repairs"

you turn away from them, eyes looking at the distance, looking at a person who's running to you. the shouts of your name grounding you more than ever

"just leave before my heart breaks more"

you let loose of the magic on the two before you feel a body crash into you, hugging you tight in fear of losing you

"sweetheart" momo's heaving from running 20 houses down and you let her wipe your tears away "i ran as fast as i could"

you don't look at jihyo and sana anymore despite their stares, only letting momo fuss over you. her magic tangling into yours

the two can only watch, a sudden bitter taste in their mouth, in realization on who she is. who she is to you

but it doesn't hurt to ask wouldn't it?

jihyo takes the bite

"and you are?"

sana feels the bullet hit her heart

"hirai momo. hirai y/n's wife."

[mayhemspreadingguy]

@magnusbae, not expecting I'd follow through, suggested to sketch Anakin but with cat fangs... Things got out of hand.

Also, look! Magnusbae gifted me with a most lovely fic inspired by my art (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) (fic under the cut, 3,800+ words).

That’s it. Anakin had resisted long enough. 

All through morning, noon and even dinner. He had done his Katas, had finished his chores, even went through his studies, all without so much as a single comment. He deserves to be commended personally by Master Yoda for being an exemplary Jedi. He deserves to be knighted right this moment seeing how he never even mentioned just how force karked awful his Master’s hair looked like for the past week. Sticking in all directions, it grows in uneven patches, the addition of a beard is somehow making his elegant Master look like a beggar from the streets and that, that is intolerable. 

Anakin growls quietly, muscles tense. He knows his Master most likely can feel him staring holes through him, and yet he simply continues reading his datapad, not asking nor looking, radiating calm in the force. Anakin wonders if he could tidy that mess with the power of thought alone. Would that be considered a frivolous use of the force? Even if done in the service of the republic? After all, his Master’s good looks are the cornerstone of the… 

Obi-Wan scratches at the back of his head, clearly bothered and Anakin can’t tolerate this anymore, cannot accept this anymore. His tongue is itching something fierce, his hands are sweating, he cannot sit still like there’s fire ants filling his pants and crawling up his spine. He cannot tolerate this. If not for himself, he must do this for his Master. If not for his Master, then for the order. If not for the order, then for the Galaxy. If not for the Galaxy, then for the Force itself. For he can swear by all that he holds dear that the Force itself is embarrassed by his Master being so unkempt, so ungroomed. 

Unacceptable. This is absolutely unacceptable. His Master has to always look neat and nice and put together, smelling fresh and looking proper. That’s the only right way for his Master to be. Anakin will not stand for it being any other way. He will not. He will make it right. 

His Master ignores the first lick. He often does that, pretends to not notice in the hopes of Anakin stopping after catching himself at his instincts. Oftentimes it works. Oftentimes it is an accident. But not this time. This time it’s very much on purpose and very much intended to continue until Anakin is satisfied with the results. All Anakin needs is for his Master to continue pretending to not notice long enough for him to fix this mess. 

Two more licks, lower neck up the scratchy beard and—

“Anakin—” his Master stops pretending so suddenly that Anakin’s tongue moves over his jawline and across the beard in a way that tickles funny. Anakin likes how it feels, rough and interesting, makes him curious about how it’ll feel like to lick across the jawline, where the beard is the thickest.

Knowing he does not have much time before his Master attempts to stop him altogether, Anakin leans in with renewed urgency, tongue ready, mouth starting to water— “Anakin, stop!” a strong hand pushes against his shoulder, moving him a distance away without being as rough as to push. 

“Mrrphh!” Anakin protests, pushing against the hand but not fighting it actively. His Master can be so bossy when he gets like this, so unreasonable. The only way to win is to use his words, otherwise his Master might just walk off and hide in his rooms instead. Or worse, go meditate in the halls, where everyone will see this shameful disaster.

“You need the grooming, Master!” Anakin starts with the foundation and heart of his objection. His Master always teaches that it’s important to be able to pinpoint the problem early on and address it quickly so as to not let it fester and become bigger than it must be. Granted his Master spoke of interpersonal disputes however it absolutely does apply here. His Master simply cannot deny this reasoning, ergo, will not be able to dispute it as untrue. “So just let me!” Anakin adds, before his Master could somehow find a way to object.

Can’t his Master see that Anakin is offering him a service? Out of the kindness of his heart, no less. Him enjoying the way his Master’s flavor sits on his tongue, the way it makes all the small hairs on his body stand on end, how it fills him with excitement— His Master’s scent, rich and spiced and safe— how he favors it above all else even when the exotic teas make him sneeze and sneeze— the way a single point of contact would narrow his senses into a single point of focus, clear his mind of all worries— the way his vision relaxes, the way his nostrils flare and he inhales and inhales and inhales— the way his heartbeat peaks and then slows, the way his mouth goes dry and he feels thirsty, hungry even— all that, all that has nothing to do with his altruistic motivations. He’s just looking out for his Master. Obviously, duh. 

“Master.” He can hear his own voice, can hear how it takes a whiny note his Master often teases him for. It’s hard to care when he has a goal bigger than his own ego. “Just let me.” He demands, he can hear it and he still doesn’t stop himself from reaching for his Master’s flowing robes, claws catching on the material and making him shudder. Maybe he does need trimming just like his Master insists each time they spar. Maybe Anakin will allow it, if his Master is good and allows him this. Maybe he’d even let his Master groom him too.

The bewilderment in the force clues Anakin on the fact that yes, maybe he did forget to shield, again. He huffs through his nose, wrinkling it. He really doesn’t know what the big deal with this is, doesn’t understand the obsession everyone and especially his Master, has with hiding every single urge and instinct and thought they have. It’s not like he thinks anything he wouldn’t also say out loud. Maybe if the Jedi used less of those shields, it would have been much easier to communicate with them, to bond with them, and maybe then he’d feel less like an outsider, like an odd bird out of its cage.

“Oh Anakin..” Obi-Wan sighs, the tension loosening from his hold against his shoulder, rather than scolding, there’s the hints of the sadness his Master expresses each time Anakin feels alienated in this place. It is not his fault no one understands him, it is not his fault he is different than everyone. 

“Master.” Anakin chirps back, rolling his eyes. His Master has the oddest of tendencies to get hung up on the most particular of topics. Anakin not having enough friends, per his Master’s opinion, is one such topic. Nevermind the fact that Anakin had never seen his Master ever share a true conversation with a single person. Other than himself. Of course. His Master does talk to him.

His Master will get fixated on him instead of thinking about himself and nag him to half death. ‘Anakin get more friends’ and ‘Anakin don’t spread the droid parts all across the quarters’ and ‘Anakin I’m a grown man I can groom myself.’ And while some of those things might be true, obviously, the last one is not. “You look like a mess.” Anakin says it to his face, because he and his Master are real friends.

“Thank you Padawan.” His Master answer, no longer sounding sad, instead his voice is dripping with sarcasm. Anakin doesn’t like it, but he supposes it’s better than sadness. “I do not recall asking for your no doubt impeccable sense of— Ahnakin—!” his ranting stops mid warming up when Anakin uses the opening to dart forward and lick him again, from the lowest exposed spot of his neck, up the smooth skin, his rough tongue making a satisfying ‘shh’ sound as it catches at the hair of the beard and smooths it up with his lick. The flavor is… is… 

Obi-Wan had used some sort of balm… some sort of synthetic musk that makes Anakin’s brain swim funny and eyes to close and mouth to water even more. He has to swallow down the saliva lest he drool like a hungry Tooka. It’s hard not to, when his Master is so, so, so karkin yummy. He slams his shields up with a clumsy thud in the force, but maybe just a moment too late to cover up that last thought.

“Anakin!” his Master sounds properly scandalized, voice raising to a tone that always makes Anakin’s ears ring uncomfortably and the following lecturing tone is no better. “Cease this nonsense immediately, you must not—" 

Anakin licks again. The side of his neck and up to the point where skin meets ear. “Master.” He says there, voice dropping into a purr that morphs into a warning growl he didn’t even think of making, there’s no aggression, only the frustrated warning to not stop him in the middle of something so damn important. Grooming, is important. More than Katas or studies or meditations. Maybe even more than sparring. And Anakin loves sparring. 

All Anakin wants is for his Master to sit quietly and let him take care of him. The way he ought to, the way he was meant to do. It’s his job, after all, is it not? He is Obi-Wan’s Padawan, it’s only natural he would tend to his Master, that he would care for him, that he would help him. That just makes sense. That rings true in the force and that’s all Anakin needs to know.

"I will.” He declares, it is no longer a request nor a plea, it is a declaration of intentions. A declaration of intent. He presses his nose at the soft skin under his Master’s ear and inhales, deeply, the scent making him Master-stupid so he says what’s on his mind with no filters, with no thought. “Unless you hate me.” His voice drops softer, he can’t breath, having inhaled too much of the strongest drug known to him. “Then I won’t” he trembles, he waits, if his Master rejects him, if he does hate him for his care, he will, he

“Anakin, this is hardly related, I do not think that—”

The force between them sparks and Obi-Wan’s mouth snaps closed with an audible click of the jaw. There’s a tension and a heating of an eruption that is halted with the calming breeze of spring air, Obi-Wan’s Force Signature covering his own, soothing, embracing, calming. “Very well, Padawan.” Obi-Wan speaks with a voice of a man who’s been worn in battle, sighing out in exhaustion.b “Since you cannot resist your nature, I’ll allow it.“ He pauses, sounding not a little doubtful as he adds the obligatory “Just this once, Anakin.” A final form of giving in, one Anakin is familiar with. 

There’s an ‘You should be old enough to know better’ goes unsaid and so Anakin ignores it. It wouldn’t have mattered even if Obi-Wan did say it. He had before, many times, and it never mattered. Anakin somehow doubts it’ll matter even when he grows taller than Obi-Wan. And he will, he just knows it. He will grow tall and strong, and he will always take care of his Master, and Obi-Wan would not be able to argue with that. Because it’ll all make sense. It always does. Everything about them does. 

If only his Master understood him better, he’d know that one doesn’t just grow out of wishing to groom those he cares and…loves. This is something that is forever and always. That is something that only grows and deepens, something to be shared and relished. Something he will always give to his Master freely, even if his Master maybe doesn’t…. Really share it in the same way as him. Which is fine. He had decided a long time ago. It is fine. 

It is enough that he gets to care for his Master. So he smiles instead and purrs out a sweet “Thank you, Master.” In that respectful manner he knows his Master enjoys hearing. He giggles when he feels his Master’s breath hitching, giggles more when nuzzling against the neck tickles his nose. “This is so horrible.” He complains, wanting his Master to know how strongly he objects to this change, and yet he cannot stop giggling. “Master!” he doesn’t even try to hide his joy from his voice, nevermind from the Force.

His Force Signature is a slow pulse of contentment, securely tucked beneath Obi-Wan’s still. When he licks small licks under Obi-Wan’s ear, he can feel his Master’s breath catching, can feel the way he stops breathing entirely and the soft gasp when Anakin licks at his ear directly, once, twice, a few more times just to test how committed his Master is to this session. Very, it seems. His Master doesn’t object even when Anakin grows bold and nibbles at his earlobe, tugging ever so gently. His Master is always so sensitive around this area, always so jumpy if Anakin stays too long at this spot. It always makes Anakin want to lick there until Obi-Wan loses his composure entirely.

He never does. 

At least not too much.

He does want to groom Obi-Wan after all, not only bully him into squirming because he is so damn ticklish there. That is not to say that he is above wanting to see his pristine Master squirming a little. So he licks there again, and when his tongue dips only a little into the ear, his Master finally jumps and moves away, breathing harshly and looking redder than his hair.

“Anakin I do believe that my hair is not located in that particular spot and—” his hands close on Anakin’s shoulders when he makes it to the ear again, wanting to nibble just one more time, just one last time… “Anakin.” His Master’s firm voice snaps him back into focus, tells him gently through the force to not overdo it. Fine, fine. He will not overdo it. This time.

"Just relax, Mastah.” Anakin pouts, the word slurring in the way his Master always corrects. Always, but not now. Anakin reaches for his Master’s wide shoulders and waits a moment until his Master’s grip loosens enough for him to actually move. It’s easy enough to shift to his Master’s lap. One knee over and sitting down in one smooth motion that has a practiced finesse to it. You either get to Obi-Wan’s lap swiftly, or you don’t at all. There is no room for hesitation for his Master will do enough hesitating for the both of them. So he sits down and nudges closer, right away. Inhaling, inhaling deeper.

Oh how he wants their scent to become one. They’re already nearly inseparable, living as closely as they do, using the same soaps, eating the same foods. Anakin wants more. Anakin wishes that they could smell and feel like one. United. Clearly bonded. Even more than they are through the force. He wants it so much that his fangs itch, itch, itch to bite and bite and bite. But no. No he is here to groom, to care. Not to bite, not to… mark. His cheeks are warm with it, knowing that he has, and is, constantly considering this. Wondering about this, curious about this. About marking his Master in a way that will be known, in a way that will be understood. He thinks about it, always. Luckily his Master has no clue. Luckily, Obi-Wan does not know. Or he wouldn’t let him sit here so carelessly, surely, he wouldn’t. 

“It’s part of it, duh.” Anakin says without truly knowing what he speaks of. The grooming, the licking, the biting, the sitting on the lap? He doesn’t know. He only knows of the happy, loud purr that fills his lungs when Obi-Wan doesn’t stop him from leaning back in, back to his neck, nuzzling, smelling, licking up that rough, funny tasting beard and to his hair, spiky and significantly softer than the beard. He giggles again, and purrs. It’s an odd combination of sounds he does try to stop but doesn’t manage. He is too preoccupied for dignity, or decorum, or class. He’s too karking pleased. 

When he licks at his Master’s neck again, the man tilts his head up and away, exposing his throat for him. Good. Good. Good, great, awesome.

His Master couldn’t have displayed his trust more plainly than this. No words could have conveyed the same level of commitment, of confidence and belief. Exposing one’s throat, Anakin thinks, is a universal sign. Even if his Master is less inclined to instincts as Anakin is, it still counts, it still matters a whole lot that he does it for him. His Master does it because he knows it matters to him and that— that matters more than all else.

His own purring is deafening, drumming in his eardrums and filling his chest with sound, he used to try to hide this in the past when he realized that most Padawans did not purr at every one of their Master’s compliments or gestures of kindness. He no longer bothers. He pulls and licks and purrs some more. He takes his time, licking small, measured licks, taking care to put that awful messy beard into something much neater, dignified.

“Maste-rrr.” He draws the ‘R’, nuzzling again under the ear and grinning when his Master shudders but doesn’t pull away, he always gives him a chance to be good. So he will be good. He does not nibble, instead he wraps his lips carefully around the bit of skin where no hair touches. Oh he wants to suck, to mark, to taste. Oh he does, so much. But he doesn’t. He will be good, because his Master believes him to be good, and proper, and nice. So he will be. 

His cheeks are fire hot when he thinks about what else he would have liked to be doing instead of the promised grooming. That is not something he should be thinking of, nor something his Master would ever permit, but…

Thinking is not illegal and he is not good at not thinking. 

So he imagines it. Imagines how his Master’s hands would feel on his hips, imagines his Master yanking him down to sit properly on his lap, Imagines his Master wanting him to lick elsewhere and—

“Ahnakin—” Obi-Wan protests, so strongly it rings in the force with his words. He feels and looks scandalized, even more so than before. He looks like he is considering all his choices and decisions. He looks like he’s about to call quits. He looks like he’d push Anakin away, he— places his hands on Anakin’s hips and pulls him down, to sit properly. 

The whine that escapes Anakin’s lips is nothing short of mortifying. It’s a needy, surprised thing, he feels like a proper youngling, confused and shy. He seeks the refuge of his Master’s neck and hides there, nuzzling while whining again, complaining, scandalized too by his Master’s audacity to follow his dreams up like this. He can’t mean it, he simply can’t! It is a mere coincidence, his Master would never follow his fantasies, he didn’t even hear it, his shields are up and proper, he’s sure of it, he’s sure of it, he’s… 

“Sorry…” Anakin murmurs out, because if he’s honest, he is not sure if his shields are worth anything with how excited he had gotten. Maybe his Master did hear, maybe his Master did feel something. Maybe he did push a little too hard. He doesn’t want to push too hard, he knows that sometimes his Master gets nervous because of his thoughts. Not angry, never angry.

He doesn’t want to make his Master nervous, he can feel the tell-tales of it in the force. Despite his Master’s secure hold on him, despite his Master’s unmoving frame. He can feel the building up hesitation. He does not want his Master to feel that way with him. 

“I’ll stop.” He promises his Master, assures him. He’ll try to, anyway. For his Master he’d try to go against his nature, even if his nature does tell him to think and do all sorts of things. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night when he can’t sleep and he thinks of his Master and every word they had ever passed, he does wonder about this. Is this truly his nature, his instincts that drive him to act as he does, or is it simply how he is with his Master? He suspects he knows the answer to that, but it’s easier for the both of them to call it instincts and be over with it, so he never disputes it. “Really.”

There’s a charged silence and then, blessedly, his Master says the two words Anakin loves more than anything else in the world, the two words for which he, not jokingly, thinks he might be willing to die for. 

“Good boy.”

The Coruscanti accent is thick and rolling, he sounds almost distracted, he sounds… 

Anakin shuts his eyes and bites his tongue, fangs digging into the soft flesh. He must not think of exactly how he imagines his Master sounding. He should not think about how his hands feel warm and human on his hips. He should not think about the lingering flavor on his tongue nor how his lungs are full of Obi-Wan, of his Master. He should not, is not allowed to. Promised not to. Instead he wraps his arms around his Master’s neck and hugs him, pulling the larger man to himself, having his head against his chest for a few long moments in which he is sure Obi-Wan hears just how fast his heart goes. He surely can feel it through the bond, it’s going crazy, ba-dum, ba-dum. 

He can feel a distant echo of his own heartbeat, almost imperceptible to his senses, and yet there. An answer. Thoomp-thoomp.

When he leans back, he moves his hands to cup his Master’s cheeks and makes him tilt his head up, to face him. “You look good now,” His fangs stretch at his lips as he grins wide enough to hurt. “Master!” he adds, cheekily.

His Master’s eyes are a bright blue, the deepest, calmest pond. He rolls them shortly, then looks directly into Anakin’s own eyes and smiles at him, sarcasm dripping with fondness as he says “Thank you. Ah-nah-kin.” With the most accented tone Anakin had ever heard. There’s so much black in his Master’s eyes, a beautiful, wondrous thing that makes him itch all over and want to see more of that soft darkness no one else gets to see. 

No one else, but him. 

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for bOO-oops behind the cut; “Kara gets to Earth on time and the Kents get a two-for-one special on free kids”. tw: aftermath of a panic attack, implied PTSD, unhealthy coping mechanisms. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

If it hadn’t been for Ma and Pa, she would’ve just stayed up above ground with Kal, both of them hurting and terrified and screaming. If it hadn’t been for Ma and Pa, she wouldn’t have been able to get him away from all the roaring and crashing or protect him from the noise or soothe him through the fear. She wouldn’t even have known how to get him away from it. Wouldn’t have been able to do anything for him at all. 

Worse that that, because all she actually did by being there was make it worse. Ma and Pa could’ve carried just Kal down here much faster if they hadn’t had to drag her along while she was screaming and panicking and carrying on like a disgrace. It would’ve been easier, if she hadn’t been there. She couldn’t help him at all. She couldn’t protect him at all. 

She was a burden to him. 

That’s not why their family saved her. 

“Suh ay-fuh,” Ma repeats softly, and “Suh ay-fuh,” Pa agrees. Kara still doesn’t know what the word means–what the words mean?–and still isn’t sure she’s even reading Ma and Pa’s tones right, flat as they are, and is still just so bitterly ashamed of herself. Kal fusses in her lap, and she wipes helplessly at his face with the cloth square again. He keens unhappily and tries to squirm away from her grip, and she feels a rush of panic and terror and–and– 

She’s such a disappointment. Such an embarrassment to their house; their family. Such a . . . such a useless . . . 

She chokes back another sob, hating herself for even having to, and wraps herself tighter around Kal. He just–it’s not–it’s not safe, if he just– 

“Karr-full, Ka-Lair,” Ma says, laying her hands gently over the back of Kara’s. Kara doesn’t understand how Ma and Pa can be this kind, when she’s such an embarrassment and a mess and . . . and isn’t . . . “Ka-Lum jess wan-suh tah gitt dow-nah, dar-leen, thas ull.” 

Kara doesn’t know what Ma’s saying. Something, obviously but . . . but not something she knows. Not anything she recognizes; not even anything she can even hear right, it feels like. Kal is keening unhappily in her arms again and still trying to wriggle away from her and she doesn’t–she doesn’t–doesn’t he know it’s not safe? Doesn’t he know how small he is, how easy to snuff out, how tiny and helpless and small and–and– 

He doesn’t, she thinks vaguely. He doesn’t remember Krypton burning and collapsing and imploding; doesn’t remember his parents sealing him away inside his pod. Even if he does, Aunt Lara and Uncle Jor had probably just laid him in it the same way they would’ve laid him in his cradle. Just like he was going to sleep for a little while, and no different from any other time they’d put him to bed. 

Mother and Father, though . . . 

Kara had–she’d panicked. She’d been terrified, and she’d been trying to convince them she couldn’t go alone, that they had to come with her, that they couldn’t just send her alone, and–and she’d refused to get in her pod, and–and she’d–she’d refused to get in, so the last time she’d ever gotten to touch her mother had been her mother grabbing her by the arms and throwing her in, and her father slamming the door behind, and her own voice screaming and screaming and her fists beating against the door, and the whole world ending all around them. 

She’d thought–she’d thought there was something else they could’ve done. Thought there was something else they could’ve done. 

But she’d been wrong. Stupid and deluded and shameful and wrong. 

So the last time she’d ever seen her parents she’d been screaming at them, fighting with them, and the last time she’d ever touched her mother had been her mother having to shove and throw and force her away, force her to not be stupid enough to die. She hadn’t gotten to hold her or Father one last time. Hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to them. To say anything to them. 

She hadn’t even let them say goodbye to her. 

The last thing she ever, ever could’ve done for them before they’d both burned up and died, before the whole world had ended, before everything any of them had ever known had ended, and she hadn’t even been able to do that. Couldn’t even let her own parents hold her one last time, and tell her goodbye. Let them be proud of how their daughter had acted; how she’d understood what they were doing and why, and had accepted her duty with dignity, and gone calm and steady, and how she wouldn’t wake up thousands upon thousands of lightyears later still sobbing and screaming for them. 

What kind of daughter is she, that she couldn’t even give them that? 

. . . what kind of daughter was she. 

Her parents are dead. She’s not a daughter anymore. 

Kara Zor-El is no one’s daughter, and Kal-El doesn’t understand that it’s not safe anymore. Wasn’t ever safe. “Safe” was a lie, always. But he still doesn’t understand how easily the ceiling could cave in, how easily the world could crack apart, how easily the sun could burn out. He doesn’t understand. 

He doesn’t understand, and all she has left is whatever she can do to keep him safe. 

That’s the only thing she can do for any of them, now. Anyone from their house, anyone from their line, their family, their world– 

Kal’s first word wasn’t even Kryptonian, and he’s never cried for Aunt Lara and Uncle Jor like she thought he would, and he doesn’t understand. 

And he’s the only thing she has left. 

“Ka-Lair,” Ma repeats even softer, and Kara can’t shame their house again. Can’t fail Kal again. Can’t fail her parents again. 

Can’t stop herself from bursting into tears again. 

“O, bay-bee gurr,” Pa says roughly, and he and Ma both wrap her up in their arms again like she even deserved it the first time, and she can’t do a thing but just sit there holding Kal and sob and sob and sob all over him. She’s such a disgrace. Such an embarrassment. Such a disappointment. 

Such a weak, pathetic failure. 

Rao won’t even come for a shameful thing like her, when it’s time. 

Ma and Pa tug her to her feet with Kal again and guide them both over to the far side of the room past the shelves and unwrap the rolled-up blankets on the shelves to spread them out over the flat pallet laid on the floor back there. The blankets are odd ones, soft and padded and thick with, for some reason, rows of metal-toothed fasteners all the way down two of their edges. Kara only knows they’re fasteners at all because she’s seen them on the aliens’ clothes before, but doesn’t know why blankets would need fasteners like those. 

She can’t think of a reason, but she also can’t stop crying and can’t protect Kal and can’t do right by their house and can’t make up for not hugging her mother one last time, so why would she be able to do anything at all? 

Ma and Pa coax her and Kal down into the blankets and fold them around them, and . . . oh, Kara realizes as Pa pulls the fastener’s tab up to seal it into a large pocket that envelopes her and Kal completely. Kal fusses and tries to squirm out of her arms, reaching for Ma with a flat alien-sounding whine, but he doesn’t know it’s not safe, and Kara can’t let him go. She just–she can’t. It’s not safe, and he doesn’t know. 

Kal whines louder, and then he starts to wail. Ma kneels down beside them and strokes his hair, making her little hissing sounds at him again. He goes back to the flat alien-sounding whines, but tries to crawl out of Kara’s arms again. 

She doesn’t know why he can’t just understand. 

“It’s not safe, Kal!” she sobs into his hair, huddling down small in the blanket pocket and wrapping him up tighter as she curls in around him again, and Kal goes back to wailing and tries to kick his way out of her arms. Ma hisses and hisses and hisses, leaning down over them and stroking his hair again. Pa sits down beside her and reaches over to stroke Kara’s back through the blankets, and she still can’t stop crying, still can’t take care of Kal, still can’t do this right, can’t–can’t– 

“Ma!” Kal wails, reaching towards her again. “Ma! Ma! MA!”

But it’s not safe, and he doesn’t understand. 

Kara sobs harder, and Ma and Pa make their little hissing noises again and again, and Kal wails, and she’s–she’s such a disgrace, an even worse disgrace, a–it’s not another apocalypse, not even anything really dangerous, not the literal end of the world all over again, so why is she crying again and why doesn’t Kal understand?! He needs to understand, he needs to, he won’t be safe if he doesn’t understand, if he doesn’t learn, if–he won’t be safe! 

And he doesn’t even know enough Kryptonian to know that, because she hasn’t taught him enough to know. 

How can she not have taught him that? 

Ma lays down beside them and wraps them both up in her arms, and makes more hissing sounds at them. She talks very soft and quiet, even as Kara just uselessly sobs and can’t even try to understand what she’s saying. But Kal’s cries start to gutter down a little, and then a little more, and then they settle into just hitched sniffles and tiny little whimpers and flat whines. Ma strokes his hair, and Pa strokes Kara’s back again. 

And Kara can’t even make Kal feel better when he’s scared, so what use even is she? What good even is she? 

None. Nothing. Not any kind of good. She’s useless, and no good to Kal at all. 

This pretty little yellow sun shouldn’t even touch her with its light. Never should’ve touched her at all. 

She can still hear the crashing through the heavy doors of the hatch, distant and muted but unmistakable. It won’t stop. 

She tries to tell herself that as long as it doesn’t stop, the world hasn’t ended. If the weather protocols are running, and the sky is roaring like that . . . the world isn’t over, if she can still hear that. 

She couldn’t hear anything after her father had slammed the door shut on her. 

So . . . so as long as it doesn’t stop, Kara tells herself. Tells herself, and cries silent, shameful tears against Kal’s vacuum-black curls and the dull, rough fabric of Ma’s flower-patterned dress where it covers her shoulder. As long as it doesn’t stop. The world isn’t over, if it doesn’t stop. The world is still there, if it doesn’t stop. 

It has to be. It has to be. 

Kal needs it to be, because he needs to be safe. She needs to make sure he’s safe. So the world has to still be there. At least this world, anyway. 

It’s already too late for theirs, after all. It’s–it’s a long time too late for theirs. 

But it’s not too late for Kal.

.

.

.

They all stay down in the liquid-stone room for a long time, and the crashing and rain continues on. One crash is so bellowingly loud that even Ma and Pa jump at the sound of it, but they don’t seem concerned; just a little startled. They don’t seem concerned about anything but Kara and Kal. 

Not like it’s the end of the world. 

Ma and Pa talk to them for most of it. Pa sorts through a few thick paper records that are on the shelf and takes one off, and reads to them from it in his flat, toneless voice. Ma strokes their hair, and . . . 

Kara thinks it’s how the aliens sing, what Ma does. Or at least, it seems as close to singing as she’s heard them do. There isn’t even as much resonance or melody as a Kryptonian’s typical speaking voice to it, but . . . but it is kind of her, to do it. Kara appreciates it, that she tries. 

They’re both so kind, all the time. She doesn’t understand why they’re always so kind, even when she’s doing something as disgraceful and embarrassing and ill-behaved as this. 

She should sing to Kal more, Kara thinks vaguely. If she were better at this–if she were better at this, she would’ve been singing to him already. Telling him stories; telling him about their world and their house and their–about his parents. Speaking their language to him. 

His first word might’ve been Kryptonian, if she were better at this. 

And if she were better at this, Ma and Pa wouldn’t even have thought they had to go out in the storm and bring them down here to begin with. 

Kara cries a few more times, later, but only once Kal is sleeping and Ma and Pa think she’s sleeping too. She’s already disgraced herself enough for one day, and she can’t be trouble for them; can’t be difficult like this again. Like she keeps being. 

She can’t be, because as kind as they are, even Ma and Pa won’t put up with a useless farmhand forever. Can’t put up with a useless farmhand forever. There’s work to do. They need someone strong enough to help them bring in their harvests and carry their animals’ feed and Pa’s tools and Ma’s shopping and–and not make trouble, and–and if she can’t do that, they’ll send them away. And Kara can’t let that happen yet; not before she understands this planet well enough to take care of Kal on it by herself. 

So she can’t let that happen yet. And she can’t be useless, or difficult, or a disgrace. Can’t make trouble for Ma and Pa or get in their way. 

And she can’t let Kal see her any way but smiling. 

.

.

.

It’s silent, when Kara wakes up in the morning. The world is over, and she’s behind a locked door, and she didn’t even let her mother hold her one last time. 

She gets up and goes outside to help Ma and Pa clean up the mess from the storm and feed Kal breakfast and do the chores. 

She has to.

[phantolove]

hii! i really love your writing and i hope you're doing well! can i request how bonten!ran + timeskip!hanma would react when reader tries to be dominant and rizz them up then end up feeling embarrassed? i think it's gonna be funny lol,, have a nice day!

ᝰ.ᐟ rizz that man up!?

you were feeling a little bold and wanted to see if you can fluster your man

pairings: bonten!ran x fem!reader | timeskip!hanma x fem!reader

warnings: petnames?, bunch of sillies frr

a/n. thank you for the kind words!! fr this was a fun idea to write out and couldnt stop laughing lmaoo!! im not super good at writing hanma so he might be a little ooc lolol

ᝰ.ᐟ ran haitani

it all started with you totally being done with how smug and flirty your dear Ran was. you were currently in his penthouse apartment, modern, low-lit and filled with the scent of his expensive cologne he always had on.

he was lounging across the massive velvet couch in grey sweatpants and an open robe like a walking temptation (as if he wasnt a damn snack already), scrolling through his phone like a man unbothered and looking far too good for a man doing nothing.

you took a deep breath. a second time.

it was time to throw some flirts back so hard he forgets how to speak. at least thats what you had planned to do.

slowly you strut into the living room and pausing in front of him as you placed your hands on your hips. you started talking, sweeter than usual, eyes glued on him.

"you always act like you got me wrapped around your finger all the time. but what if you are the one who's been played all along?"

he glances up from his phone, looking quite amused already. "oh yeah? that what you think, baby?", he asked, voice low and now full attention on you.

you sit onto the couch beside him, slowly dragging your hand up his chest, especially tracing the tattoos, trying oh so hard to act all sultry for him. meanwhile your heart has been doing somersaults on repeat.

"maybe ive just been letting you think you got full control. letting you talk all that slick mess while i sit back and plan the kill shot"

Ran raises a brow, clearly holding back his laughter. "eh? a kill shot, you say, huh?"

you lean even closer, putting your lips near his ear. "one line from me, Haitani, and i could have you begging for me"

he doesnt move just yet. the only thing he did was look at you, his lips twitching into that slow, dangerous grin.

"well then go on, sweetheart. hitme with your best shot"

you blink at him, caught off a little too fast. suddenly, your brain had forgotten all the lines you practiced beforehand. your mouth opens and closes again. nothing came out anymore and fuck it got backhanded to you so fast.

fucker.

your face immediately burns up, the embarassment creeping in faster than you had calculated in. "wait, wait..no..i had something for this exact-"

Ran was laughing so hard now, head thrown back and brushing a hand through his short lilac hair. "aww~ nooo~ dont bail on me now baby, you looked so serious about it"

"h-hey?! i was being serious!", you groaned, face buried in your hands and not daring to look up at him.

he then wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his lap, still grinning like he hasnt just embarassed you. you peek at him through your fingers and let out a defeated sigh. "i was gonna say something hot..you ruined it.."

"mhm, then next time be prepared sweetheart~"

the fucker was now kissing you and teasing you a bunch more just to rub it in he always had the upper hand when it was about flirting.

ᝰ.ᐟ shuji hanma

hanmas apartment looks like a chaos demons lair, literally - half a pizza box on the counter, a stack of manga on the table and a horror movie paused on the screen. he's stretched across the couch like a man with no shame. no shirt on, sweatpants hanging low, hair messy. you were standing in the doorway of his living room, hyping yourself up like you're walking into a final boss fight.

your plan tonight was to get back at him, you wanted him to break and let you take the dominance for once in your relationship. slowly you slide into the room, letting your fingers trail along the back of the couch before leaning over him. you braced yourself and took a breath for a second.

"yknow, you act all tough..but i bet underneath that attitude, your just waiting for someone to take control over you"

Hanma looks up at you, completely unbothered but the slight twitch in his lips didnt go unnoticed. you stay leaned down to him that way, totally not panicking inside because he seemed so unfazed by it.

"someone to grab you by the chin, look you in the eye, and say what a good boy you are"

Hanma blinks once. then lets out a wheeze which made you now more determined to keep going.

"oh shit, so thats what we doin’ tonight?"

god it was so hard but you stayed in character, trailing a finger down his chest slowly and looking at him.

"you are in my territory now, Shuji. i think you should be scared of what i can do"

he just snorts at that and grabs your wrist gently. "me? scared of you? nah im tryin’ real hard not to die laughin’ right now"

shit. this was really not how you planned it to go. you freeze and take a deep breath to try and mask your embarrassment. "that was totally unnecessary was it..god it was..wasnt it?"

"good boy? babes you sounded like you were trainin’ a dog"

that was the final blow. you immediately shrivel inside, hiding your face in his neck as he starts laughing again. what a fucker.

"i was being sexy..", you whine to him, voice muffled.

"you were bein’ something, sweetheart, thats for sure heh"

Hanma then slowly pulled you around the couch and onto him, wrapping his arms around you.

"to be for real, it was the funniest seduction ive ever received from you. ya gotta try it again sometime"

"i hate you"

"you know your lyin’ to yourself and next time ill make sure to wear a damn collar if that helps you babes~"

you groaned out loud as he kisses the top of your head, still grinning, while you try to disappear between him and into the couch cushions.

[little-diable]

Guilt - Feyd-Rautha (smut)

So, I watched Dune again, and this came to me mid movie. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

!Contains spoilers!

Summary: The reader is married to Feyd, she felt him being touched by Lady Margot – now he has to prove to her how much he loves her.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), implied cheating/somewhat not really since she knew it'd happen, some angst, strong-headed reader, still some fluff (?)

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x fem!reader (1.3k words)

“You know, na-Baron, sleepless nights can be cruel.” Her voice echoed through their dark chamber, back turned to him as her eyes stared outside. Feyd froze in his step, he had just entered the room, careful not to wake her. (Y/n) held a blade between her fingers, letting her fingertips stroke along the sharp edge.

“Nightmares again?” A scoff wanted to claw through (y/n) at his question. Feyd was playing her, thinking she hadn’t noticed how he had slipped out of the room, hiding away from his own celebrations - only to run into Lady Margot. (Y/n) had felt it the second the woman had touched him, in ways only (y/n) had been asked to touch her very own husband. 

But the way was cruel, guided by power-hungry women who thought of them better than her. 

“You dare lie to your wife?” (Y/n)’s voice was sharper than ever before, she didn’t see the way he slightly stumbled back, not expecting that chilly tone of hers. Feyd ran his tongue along his black teeth, trying to fight against an emotion he hadn’t felt before, an emotion he had been a stranger to – until now. Guilt. A sensation that wandered up his body, making him almost choke on his bile.

“It needed to be done.” Within seconds she stood in front of him, with her blade pressed against his throat, with her eyes burning holes into his skin, with tears about to drip from her eyes. It was true, it had to be done, and she had known that the Bene Gesserit order would grasp any chance they could get to fulfil it. Feyd-Rautha was a puppet of their game, a puppet who had now offered all his weaknesses to them. 

“I ought to kill you with that blade, rip you to pieces the way you’ve ripped my heart to pieces. I thought you were stronger than that, husband, it’s a shame I’ve married a man who behaves like a child.” No word left Feyd at the harsh words she spoke, words he’d kill others for without blinking once. But all he did was wipe away her tear, one single drop that dared to escape her glassy eye. “Wash yourself clean, I can still smell her on you.”

“Join me, na-Baroness.” Her hand met his cheek before he could see it coming, shakily inhaling at the rage now simmering inside of him. Feyd’s black teeth ran along his lower lip while his hand found her wrist, harshly tugging her against his chest. “The next time you raise your hand at me, I won’t be as gentle with you, wife.”

“Gentle? You breed another woman, you embarrass your wife, and now you threaten her? I have never feared you, and I won’t start now, bound together by a promise that has lost its meaning.” It was pathetic of her, to treat him like her enemy because he had done what had needed to be done. But her pain weighed heavier than her rational thoughts, guiding her on as Feyd cupped her cheek before interlacing their fingers.

No word left him as he began to lead (y/n) into the washroom, tugging on her nightgown to expose her naked body. Pleasure had always been one of his few weaknesses, and even though he had found pleasure in fucking the Lady, it hadn’t felt like it did with (y/n), not as raw, as intimate as he was used to by now. 

Feyd sank into the water first, but his eyes didn’t leave her naked frame once. Wordlessly, he reached his hand out for her to take, to pull her into the bath. (Y/n) shuddered in his hold, she tried to shake off the emotions thumping through her like a sandstorm set to bury her alive, and yet she miserably failed at it. For the first time since knowing Feyd-Rautha, she lost her grip on her emotions. 

“I love you.” Three simple words Feyd hadn’t ever spoken before rolled off his tongue, words that hadn’t ever managed to leave his mouth, held back by his black teeth that wouldn’t dare part. But now they had rolled off his tongue all too easily, surprising him and her. 

“The wonders of guilt.” A humourless laugh left (y/n). “Don’t keep lying to me, husband. I’m not your pet nor your toy, don’t lure me into false comfort with pretty words and thin lies.” Feyd tightened his grasp on her cheeks, squeezing them to keep her from saying another word. A rough kiss was pressed to her lips, drawing a moan out of (y/n) at the familiarity of the sensation. 

“I love you.” He repeated the words, pronouncing every single one of them as if he were speaking a threat, hoping to open her eyes. She stared at him for a while, trying to figure out how sincere the words were - if they were sincere at all, but the pain tugging on his expression told her everything she needed to know. The sigh leaving her made Feyd loosen his grip on her cheeks, letting his hand wander down to her neck. 

“I love you too, even though I try to hate you, now more than ever.” Another rough kiss was shared between them, drawing moans from both lovers. Feyd’s cock twitched against her, in any other scenario he would have fucked her by now, murmuring into her ear that he’d pump her full, desperate to see her with a round belly, but today he didn’t. A wise decision she was grateful for.

But even though he stopped himself from forcing his cock into her cunt, his hand didn’t stop moving, cupping her heat with an almost soft grin tugging on his lips. Their eyes held contact as he circled her pulsing bundle, using just enough strength to leave her shuddering. Her mind screamed at her, but her body craved his touch like a drug as if she was high on spice. 

“You know it had to be done, but you need to know it wasn’t like this.” His words weighed heavy, telling her that their bond would survive every attack, even death they’d overcome together. “You are my end and my beginning, na-Baroness.”

Two of his fingers pushed into her tightness, engulfed by her fluttering walls. Her moans filled the washroom, echoing off the walls like screams of prisoners, slashed by Feyd’s blade for his mere enjoyment. An exciting sensation he had always craved, just like the orgasms he lured out of her, watching them clash through her shaking body. 

“My beautiful wife, you were made for me, destined even.” (Y/n) couldn’t reply, her eyes rolled back into her head as her fingernails left crescent-shapes on his shoulders. Her orgasm was close, pushed into her high by his cold fingers, feeling them on her clit and against her swollen spot, hers forever.

“Cum for me, show me how much your body craves me.” She came with a gasp, tightening her grip on Feyd as her high clashed through her. Heavy pants spluttered from her lips at the blinding sensation, too distracting to study Feyd’s smirk, the satisfied expression tugging on his handsome features. 

“You’re forever mine, (y/n), and nothing may change that, no prophecy, no destiny.”

[wisteriaiswriting]

Garnet and Amethyst Dating Headcanons (Seperate)

Words: 725

Request: Garnet and Amethyst separate dating reader headcanons

Ever since dating you she’s kinda gained the habit of picking you up to give you kisses. It doesn’t matter if you’re tall enough to kiss normally, she’s likely to be taller than you. (She doesn’t care, if you let her she will pick you up.)

Assuming you're okay with being picked up she’ll pick you up and carry you around on her shoulders. She just likes seeing you happy and that you’re spending time with her.

She is such a smooth talker. Like girl, where did you learn any of this from??

But there is the occasional time she messes up, stutters or the line doesn’t land, so she’ll become embarrassed.

Absolutely AMAZING cuddler. Is the big spoon like 90% of the time, she just enjoys holding you close, watching you cuddle closer to her. It calms her mind (Especially after fights) knowing that you’re here with her, safe in her arms.

She always enjoy’s taking you out for dates, takes you out as often as you both have time for. A lot of them aren’t your most common type of dates, opting to take you to beautiful or meaningful places through the warp pad.

After most missions, if possible, she’ll bring you back some sort of souvenir. Which has led to you having a shelf built in your room or house.

If you can fuse and are willing to, Garnet is more than willing to try. She knows that your relationship and connection could only make a stable and amazing fusion.

On the other hand, if you can’t or don’t want to, that's fine. She’s seen plenty of love bloom without fusing, and she just knows yours can as well as you two have proved you don’t need fusion.

Later down the line she’ll slowly become comfortable enough to unfuse, wanting to spend some much needed, special time with you, not as Garnet, but instead as Sapphire and Ruby. This is a huge part of her to show, so please be careful here.

She is such a touchy and affectionate gem. There is absolutely no shame when it comes to pda with her, but she only means to show off you and her love for you to the world.

Adores being carried by you. When she’s in your arms, she is constantly flirting no matter what state she’s in, she even reaches up to curl your hair. Also loves getting piggy back rides.

You don’t know what her fascination with you is, as she loves to shapeshift into you. You have absolutely no clue why, but she does it. Enough to the point of confusing others as she lounges around the house.

Is a constant cuddler. Especially when you two decide to have lazy mornings, laying around in bed for the next few hours. She’ll drape herself across you while snuggling into your neck, keeping you trapped by wrapping her arms around you

If you’re with her during a fight she’ll start showing off just for you. Which eventually leads to her getting hit by something and injured, but it doesn’t deter her.

She loves when you play and mess with her hair, there's some points during the day she’ll walk over and just shove her hair into your face, trying to get you to mess with it.

This girl loves showing you off to anyone who will listens, even if they don't she will still brag about you (All of the crystal gems know everything about you and are so done with amethyst)

She is so lazy, so absolutely no chores of hers are getting done, unless she has some certain incentives.

Just promise her some affection or food and she’s hopping off the couch to finish the chores within seconds.

She’s so pumped if you can and want to fuse with her. It’ll start a bit unstable due to the excitement buzzing around, but you two quickly balance yourselves out. And god, you two make an amazing fusion but you are a lot to handle. (Definitely need another fusion to get you two back to normal)

If not though, that's fine, she doesn’tt need to fuse with you to prove anything. If anything, it shows how strong your love is that you dont need to fuse, you’re already attached at the hip so you're practically one person at this point.

[kingdom-carer]

Unique agere writing prompts:

A bunch of young or inexperienced characters (the younger/less experienced the funnier) are hanging out together when suddenly one of them regresses. None of the others know what to do - “I don’t know how to take care of a baby!!! Do YOU know how to take care of a baby!?”

A character regresses alone … except for their pet. They pick up on the fact that their person is suddenly acting like a child, and takes care of them the best way a pet knows how. (Bonus points if the pet’s reasoning abilities are enhanced somehow, whether through creative storytelling or in-world magical properties.)

A character regresses and loses all of their speech. No cute babbles or lisping here - just complete silence. CG has to figure out what their baby wants through gestures alone, and that can be challenging depending on how young their kiddo is.

A character teen regresses around their superior or boss, becoming mouthy or being silly in a distracting manner. Boss/coworker quickly discourages that behavior, and teen is highly embarrassed and has to work through a lot of unhappy emotions regarding rebellion or rejection. The boss/coworker could be either caring or mean for this one.

Kiddo’s heart stops when they see someone who looks like Santa Claus on their day out. Without thinking, they approach him. The man is surprised to see them, but meets them with warmth and promises to write their Christmas wish down for the elves. Was it really Santa? Who knows?

Middle shyly admits that they are interested in something they got scolded for when they were young - and CG decided to join them in their quest to live out the dream, whether that’s funky hair, a new fandom, or a tricky hobby. Kiddo ends up rocking it, of course.

Digging up old writing or artwork pitches a middle into their headspace - and it is NOT a good one. CG isn’t sure why middle is being so bratty until they suddenly burst into tears, saying they hate themselves and they wish they could just disappear. CG offers to go through the sketchbook and praises each page lovingly as they do, but the drawings turn darker and darker …

CG has a hard day and wants to love on their kiddo to relax, but kiddo isn’t feeling particularly small and subtly tries to redirect the attempts at affection. CG gets more and more frustrated until they snap, shouting, throwing things, slamming doors and cabinets. So many repressed emotions bubbling up … CG immediately regrets what they’ve done and hides away in shame. Baby does their best to cheer CG up again, even if CG’s outburst scared them.

Kiddo is perfectly big when going about their day, but a sweet lady at the gas station starts calling them all sorts of pet names when she sees they’re upset and offers to pay for their snacks. Kiddo immediately tries to hold it together, but tears are still falling from their eyes.

CG or kiddo revisits their childhood home and reflects on their upbringing. Good? Bad? Ugly? You decide.

Middle revisits a school and realizes how … young they all are. Mentally, they’ve been stuck there for so long … but my, how far they’ve come.

Kiddo has to babysit a younger kiddo when there’s no one else around to care for them. Chaos ensues.

For some reason (possibly due to trauma or magic?), big cannot remember being little, even though the aftermath exists. They begin leaving notes to themselves when big, and get responses back when small. Slowly, they start to heal their hurt brains and bridge the gap between headspaces.

Big actually goes back in time to meet their little self. Who have they become in the eyes of this tiny person?

Kiddo is afraid of making messes and getting in trouble, so CG responds with sensory bins, mud puddles, shaving cream kiddie pools, and other activities where getting messy is the name of the game. There are lots of big feelings, but nothing a little food fight can’t fix.

CG misses their kiddo so much it hurts. They snuggle a pillow and tend to their stuffies, but it isn’t the same. They call their kiddo just to see how they’re doing, and kiddo can tell it’s hard for them to be apart; so they decide to get their CG a pet.

A kiddo with powers has to relearn to use them when small, since channeling energy takes focus … and so does repressing a magical outburst when upset.

A CG starts falling in love with someone … and kiddo notices, taking it upon themself to help them get together by being “sneakily” romantic. Naturally it is not quite as subtle as they intended.

You’ve heard of “caught being little,” now get ready for “caught being a CG.” Why IS this box full of band-aids and stuffed animals and grab-and-go play packs and electrolytes in your closet?

[justnatoka]

Crisis

Sinclair brothers x GN! Reader (Bo centric)

A/n: This is by no means an original idea, it has been done many times before, but I eat this shit up every time.

Word count: 2.8k

Warning: canon-typical violence, attempted sexual assault, Bo actually has feelings, reader has a panic attack

Summary: When a group of strangers unexpectedly show up in Ambrose in the middle of the night, it suddenly becomes your turn to fight for your lives – and each other.

Part 1/2

Next part

When you awoke, the first thing you registered was the darkness. Blinking slowly a few times, eyelids heavy from sleep, you took in the quiet living room around you. Shrouded in shadows, the only sound being the occasional soft creaks of the old house settling. It was still the middle of the night, probably many hours remaining until dawn. You sat up groggily, the motion causing a dull ache to spread in your neck. A groan left your lips, and you brought up a hand to try and massage the sore muscle as best as you could. You gave up quickly, making a mental note to ask Vinny for some help with it in the morning. You dragged your legs from the blanket with a tired huff, the wood floor pleasantly cool under you bare feet. It took your foggy brain a few moments to remember why exactly you thought it was a good idea to fall asleep on the couch.

Your argument with Bo started to come back to you in hazy pictures. He was already grumpy when he left for the auto shop this morning, and it seemed his mood only soured as the day progressed. When he arrived back in the evening he was in a particularly foul temper. It didn’t take long for him to start snapping at you and Vincent over every little thing. You talked back, some words were exchanged, and in typical Bo fashion he said some things in the heat of the moment that he otherwise wouldn’t have. That’s how you ended up on the couch, feeling too angry to go and sleep next to him.

It was a reoccurring routine: Bo taking his anger out on everyone around him, you getting frustrated with him in return and punishing him by sleeping in a separate room. Most of the time you found comfort in Vincent’s bed, and on rare occasions, when you were especially upset, you even trekked out to Lester’s little cabin in the woods to spend the night. Bo always found you the next morning, apologizing for being an ass.

Lester couldn’t believe his eyes when he first witnessed it. It was the morning after your first late night visit to his cabin. A knock came from the door, and there stood Bo, head hanging in shame, ears red from embarrassment as he said sorry. He didn’t let his big brother live it down for days, not until Bo threatened him with a whooping.

He had a hard time with it, admitting that he was wrong and saying sorry, just being emotionally vulnerable in general. It was something he had to learn, and you were extremely proud of him for reaching this point. It didn’t mean that you wouldn’t get upset with him when he did the same shit again.

You felt like a headache was coming on as you remembered the argument. You desperately needed a glass of cold water. Dragging your body from the couch, you slowly shuffled towards the kitchen, faintly wondering in the back of your mind about what might have woken you up at such an hour.

You were halfway there when you heard it. A buzzing sound broke the silence of the dark house. It was jarring, the noise cutting through the peaceful stillness, causing your heartrate to skip a beat. Looking back towards the living room, you noticed your phone on the coffee table, vibrating with an incoming call. No one knew that number, no one but the Sinclair brothers that is.

As your sluggish brain was trying to make sense of why one of them would call you in the middle of the night – especially since two of them were sleeping upstairs –, another sound came to your attention. Voices, multiple, just outside the front door.

“I’m telling you, this place is a fucking ghost town.”

“No way, you saw the look on that dude’s face. He clearly didn’t want us sniffing around. Bet he’s found some hidden treasure buried around here, and wants to keep it all to himself.”

“He should buy some soap from the money while he’s at it. Guy smelled like a wet possum.”

A round of crude laughter followed, your stomach churning at the sound. You were wide awake now, your brain working a mile a minute. They were talking about Lester, right? Is he okay? Did they do something to him? Why are they here? What do they want? The gravity of the situation started to sink in heavily. There was a group of unexpected visitors in Ambrose, in the middle of the night, with who knows what intentions. You barely had time to accept the reality when the handle started turning, and then the door was already open.

Five men stood in the doorway, illuminated from behind only by the moonlight as the lights were switched off all around town. You stared at them with wide eyes, body frozen in place, halfway to the kitchen, right in front of them. You could barely make out any feature on them, but as they shifted slightly, more of the pale natural light from outside streaming in, they had a pretty good view of you. They certainly saw enough, if the change in the air around them was anything to go by. You felt rather then saw their eyes raking down your body, suddenly feeling utterly exposed in your underwear and Vincent’s baggy T-shirt.

A low whistle broke your shocked stupor, and a chill ran down your spine.

“Talk about hidden treasure. If I had such a pretty little thing, I would want to keep them all to myself too. It would be a shame if someone broke them, ain’t it, boys?”

The implication sent terror through your body, breathes coming out in shallow gasps.

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart, we won’t hurt you. Much.”

The moment the first one of them stepped inside the door, your body suddenly unlocked from the frozen shock you were stuck in, and you bolted towards the kitchen. You heard their thudding footsteps behind you, your fingers almost reaching the handle of the knife drawer when you felt arms wrapping around your waist, hoisting you in the air. You kicked and clawed as they dragged you back into the living room, roughly dropping you onto the couch. You felt hands on you, all over you, grabbing your arms and legs, tugging at your clothes and your hair, and all the while that crude laughter echoed in your brain. Somewhere during the struggle to keep them away from you, you found your voice and let out a scream. It was a sound you’ve heard before, the scream of someone fighting for their life, but you never thought you were capable of making it. It was jarring to hear it ripple from your own throat.

A second later doors were ripped open above you, and heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs. You barely caught a glimpse of Bo, baseball bat in hand before he was on them, swinging at the head of the guy nearest him. It made impact with a sickening crack, and his body crumpled to the floor. Now the other four had their full attention on him. Angered by the attack on their friend, they descended upon Bo, and even though he put up a good fight, a particularly hard punch to the jaw sent him to the floor. They started kicking him, shouting obscenities at him.

It all happened so fast, you barely had time to register what you were doing before you were running towards them with a vase in hand. You picked it up without even thinking, and threw it at the head of a guy who just got hold of the baseball bat Bo had dropped and was getting ready to swing it down on him. He stumbled, but remained standing, small rivulets of blood now running down his face as he turned around and locked eyes with you. A cold dread settled in your stomach as he took a step towards you, bat still in hand, cussing up a storm about backward living freaks. He raised the bat high, his eyes full of murderous rage, and you thought this is it, he was going to bash your head in.

Just before he was about to swing down on you his body went rigid, eyes rolling back as he slumped to the floor, one of Vincent’s knives sticking out of the back of his head. You had no idea when he arrived, but he was already heading towards the guys still on Bo, knife in hand. The fight was already tilting in your favor, but then an ear-splitting shot rang out, and one of the remaining three dropped to the floor with a gaping hole in his chest. You spun your head around, seeing Lester in the front door that was left gaping open, looking disheveled and out of breath, as if he was running, shotgun in hand. Stunned by the sound of the gun going off in such a closed space, the other two intruders stood no chance, Bo and Vincent regaining their composure first and quickly ending them.

In the next few seconds, the only sound in the big silent house was heavy breathing, all of you in a daze from what just transpired. That was the moment your legs finally gave out and you sank to the floor. Your ears were ringing, and you quickly realized that the strange noise you were hearing was your own quick, shallow breathing. Adrenaline was still rushing through your veins, panic gripping your lungs, making it hard to suck oxygen into your body. You had no idea when the trembling started, fingers digging into your sides as you wrapped your arms around yourself, shaking violently. You let out a little shriek when you felt hands on you, fear still clouding your brain, screaming at you to get away from them. They quickly flinched away, and there was a slight commotion before someone spoke up.

“Ssh, sweet pea, you’re alrigh’. ‘S just me, it‘s Lester,” a gentle voice said right next to you. “You’re gonna be alrigh’, just breathe with me,” he persisted, and you heard as he took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, repeating the motion again and again. Following his instructions, you felt your breathing come back to a normal rhythm bit by bit, your head becoming clearer.

When you could finally get enough air into your lungs, you took in your surroundings. Lester was sitting next to you on the floor, his mouth quirking into a small smile as he saw you coming down from your panic. Vincent was kneeling on your other side, hands outreached toward you, his fingers twitching anxiously, wanting to comfort you but also not wanting to send you into another episode. When you gathered enough strength, you sneaked one of your hands towards him, and as he wrapped his fingers around it, enveloping it in his much bigger hand, he let out a deep sigh.

Your adrenaline slowly started to die down, and with it the reality of the situation and what else could have happened finally sat in. Your eyes were quickly filling with tears, and as the first sob broke up from your throat, you were enveloped by warmth. This time you didn’t flinch away as Vincent pulled you into his chest, shielding you from the grizzly sight of the bodies littered around the living room, and you cried into his chest, your sobs rattling your shaken form. You looked so small and broken in that moment, it gripped their hearts in a vice that they couldn’t shake.

Through the haze of your tears you faintly registered angry footsteps as Bo grabbed the guy with Vincent’s knife still sticking out of his head and started dragging his body out the door. A single shot rang out, startling you, but the two younger Sinclair brothers were quick to reassure you. Then Bo stomped back in, dropping Lester’s shotgun beside him on the floor.

“I-I tried to call yall, tried to warn ya,” Lester started shakily. “Buncha assholes got lost on the back roads. When I tried to turn them around they called me names and slashed my tires. Didn’t want them to catch ya by surprise, but I couldn’t stop ‘em.” His voice wavered as he turned back to you. “’M so sorry, sweet pea. ’M sorry I couldn’t reach ya sooner.”

When your cries quietened down to sniffles, you forced your throat to speak.

“It’s not your fault, Lester, you did everything you could,” you reassured him as best as you could, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple in appreciation, his hand rubbing soothing circles against the back of your head.

A scoff made you all turn your heads to Bo. He was standing over the remaining bodies, staring them down, his body wrung tight with tension, his fists shaking by his side. He was looking at them with such hatred that you’ve never seen on him before. If you were honest, he frightened you a bit.

“Bo?” you called hesitantly.

He whipped his head around, and you flinched at the intensity of his stare. Noticing your reaction, the muscles in his jaw tightened, but his gaze softened a tad bit. There was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite place, and it took you a few moments to realize what it was. Guilt.

Reading the room, Lester motioned with his head to Vincent. They grabbed the remaining bodies and dragged them out of the house. After they came back for a second round, they closed the front door behind them, setting to work disposing of them. It left you with just Bo, who refused to look at you now, the silence between you deafening and charged.

You stood on shaky legs and shuffled over to him, laying a gentle hand on his arm. He almost wrenched it from your grasp before he caught himself. With a heavy sigh he deflated in front of your eyes, all tension leaving his body. All that remained was the slight trembling of his hands. You sneaked your hand in his, folding your fingers together, and this finally made him look at you.

He looked so utterly broken, you almost broke down crying. You were sure of it now, the guilt written on his face clear as day. Yes, he has apologized to you before after arguments, and he was sincere, but you’ve never seen him like this.

You swallowed thickly before you said aloud the first and only thing that was on your mind.

“Bo, this is not your fault.”

His face twisted a bit, a sign that he was fighting with his emotions in his head.

“Look at you,” his voice strained as his eyes ran over the exposed skin of your body, red bruises and scratches marring your skin from your struggle earlier. “God, sweetheart, look at you,” he sighed, and his pain was palpable as he continued. “You should have been by my side. You should have been sleeping next to me.” He almost spit out his next words. “But because I was so fucking stupid and angry before, you were all alone down here. If you were next to me this wouldn’t have happened.”

His admission stunned you. Taking his face into your hands, you gently ran your fingers over his own bruises, the one along his jaw already showing signs of swelling. His eyes fluttered closed, and even though he was upset, he still leaned into your touch. He looked so much worse than you probably did, taking the brunt of the beating. He got these bruises while defending you, and he still kicked himself for not doing more.

You made him look into your eyes, and even though your voice was soft, the slight tremble in it made it obvious how emotional you were.

“You don’t know that,” you stated. “Even if I was with you, they still would have showed up, and we still would have had to deal with them. I could have gotten hurt either way. So there’s no point in blaming yourself. What’s done is done. So let’s focus on what to do next.”

You could tell he was still not convinced, but he decided not to argue with you. So you did the first thing that came to your mind: you opened your arms, inviting him into a hug. If it was any other time, he would have rolled his eyes, calling you needy, before accepting your affection. Now he just pulled you in, his arms around you rigid at first, but quickly melting into your embrace. You clung to him, just like he clung to you, both of you seeking stability and comfort in the other.

Outside the living room window Lester and Vincent shared a silent look before they finally got to work. They knew Bo would be back to his old self eventually, but maybe, just maybe, this was the push he needed to really let you in. As they were busy dealing with the consequences of the night’s events, all three brothers made a promise to themselves. A promise that something like tonight would never happen again.

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