#it only took almost ten years lmao

[hellafluff]

Okay i like fenris now

[maddy-ferguson]

i spent so much time on the bus today i read 100 pages of the novel i started this morning on the bus

[pieroulette]

Did I, A Side Character Became the Male Lead's Wife?!

2023 | 13+ | ONESHOT | YANG JUNGWON × READER | -> PART 2

SUMMARY you — a side character in a royal novel doing absolutely nothing but enjoy your rich ass yet boring life, only watching over the female lead and doing your job in protecting her, only for a pair of kittenish eyes to fall not upon the female lead but on you, unfortunately.

AUTHOR'S NOTE not me writing a whole ass oneshot at 5am bcs of that sweet ask from that one anon, imma name u serotonin dopamine anon lmao- and jungwon bae u r truly my muse.. also inspired by sum manhwas cuz I binge read 90+ chapters in less than a day 💀💀💀 plus happy 900+ followers for me <333 mom wake up I'm famous even tho I'll never let u know what my secret writing blog is about 😊😊

a side character, how cute?

well, you only came to know of this very horrible (not really) fact that you're nothing close to a main character's vibes cause look at you babe, where's the sparkling shiny starry dust on you as you walked through the red carpet at the ball?

and did they even spare a glance at you? unfortunately, nope. because the female lead, Liz; was your enemy, at least in how your character was written in the novel by the goddamn author which was you.

yes, that's right!

you, a hella introverted author dwelling in the deepest corner of her room doing nothing but spent an ungodly amount of hours creating the perfect and enchanting characters after crying for major character death of a fic a few years ago. wiping your dripping tears off your cheeks in a comical way as you pull open your laptop and risk your 20/20 vision for life, just so you can reverse the aching pain in your chest that you wore a thick ass glasses now.

Liz, the female lead. Swooning over her was your religion, throwing not one but a ten whole buckets explaining how perfect she was—or how tremendously kind she was, delicate and utterly sweet. patting yourself on the back for creating such a goddess of a character, so it's only wise for you to give her a fitting male lead, right? Okay we'll talk about that later since it's about you right now.

So how did you end up in your novel? Well, because of one fateful day of you doing absolutely nothing but taking a goddamn rest, and whoever the god in heaven that just randomly decided to throw you in the novel you wrote yourself—must be utterly insane. Perfect indeed!

it took you a humongous realisation to see yourself in a dark green puffy dress that represents jealousy, envy, and betrayal—which also represents the side character standing behind the female lead on the thick cover of your book. you've originally written her as that wicked best friend that uses her seductive way of speech to seduce men, and at last turning her back at the female lead by accusing her of a horrendous crime.

her fatal fate consists of her head being snapped by the guillotine, unfortunately. but for you, not really, cause you are so in for destroying wicked characters but jokes on you—you're now in the body of that character.

pfft, can't the gods put you in a character that lives near the sea, with your straw hat on and as you drank your lemon juice away from the public drama, angsty dialogues, cringe moments you yourself have created because you don't have atleast an ounce of social skills that's why you pour it all on your characters.

"oh my apologies, milady— pfft—" three ladies sticking with each other like a super glue, had thrown the glass of wine on the female lead's gown—earning a series of gasps from everyone who saw but you were sure won't pay an ounce of consideration towards her as you had written almost everyone in this novel as "the world against the weak, fragile character."

oh, right. the hyena laughters of those you describe in episode 3 of "the flashy ball"; the three evil sisters, because why not? they added the extra spices in your tongue to the point you couldn't wait for them to get slap by the female lead or possibly someone.

ah, the tremendous satisfaction.

and you were one of that person whose hands itching to smash their skull apart, you cringed enormously at them as they were the ones that brought total trouble wherever they went or whoever are unlucky enough to get in their way. unfortunately, you seal your female lead's fate with them as she need some little obstacles, doesn't she?

you as hell were not sure what you're supposed to do, whether to just let things happen as the story goes or you do the male lead's job in protecting the female lead cause you have no idea why is he taking such a long time to appear, when he should've made his grand entrance at the freaking introduction?

and you wrote it that way cause you got fed up with male leads making their first appearance at the ball, and somehow quickly gaining the female lead's heart like Cinderella cause dear lord where's the slow burn?

just say, you're a conservative grandma type of a mindset or that you are skeptical over love at first sight. yep, you're right. that's why you ain't gonna let your precious female lead get bullied in front of your very eyes. she's like your granddaughter right now, seriously.

a shriek echoed through the entire ball, gaining everyone's attention. "oh my god! my dress! you— lady Liz! who did you even brought with you?!"

oh right, you forgot it's your first time at the ball either. "my apologies, milady. it's just that i saw a bunch of hyenas roaming around.." you rubbed the back of your neck.

"hyenas?! guards—"

"chill, what's the commotion here?" a bright dashing blonde haired man in a red royal suit came around, with sets of stars dusting upon his form which you already realise to be part of the main characters but unfortunately you forgot. you ain't having that extra superhuman memory just because you are an author.

the bunch of hyenas before you reasoned with the prince, but you slowly realise that the prince was none other than Prince Jake. Inspired by that one puppy image idol from fourth generation of kpop, you were apparently slurping your noodles in the local restaurant when you watched him imitating a dog from the tv, causing you to choke on your noodles.

it's safe to say, he's hot enough that he had to be part of your main characters. aah, that signature dashing smile of his as he defended the female lead with his wisely chosen string of words which immediately melted everyone's heart at sight.

times like this you wish you were actually the female lead, but the logical side of you beg to differ; you are not emotionally capable of spewing cringy romantic words for that's only reserved for writing. So thank you, i'll pass.

Surely, Prince Jake ain't the male lead for your precious female lead but you just let them converse with each other despite her with her absolute kindness, urging you to talk with them too, atleast a word. it sort of felt for a moment like she was trying to match you with the prince.

like no please, you'd rather not to. hot guys are hot, but they're not worth the emotional investment past the fangirling section.

plus the prince doesn't seem interested you as he doesn't spare not even one look at you which obviously you couldn't care any less, you sneakily went out the ball after a series of mishaps—for example your heavy puffy ass gown with its sole purpose to only look pretty but the reality ain't that pretty to say the least, panting like a dog as you took each step towards the entrance all while cussing yourself for ignoring your logical part of brain that you shouldn't have been adding humongous useless words to describe the gown just to make it sound extremely pleasing to the readers.

now you're the one to bear the consequences of your own writing, the fuck.

"one! two!—" a long, long, depressing sigh echoes. "three! ah!—" consequently falling upon your face, what a perfect day indeed. you just wanted to go home, tuck yourself in your comforting blanket, eat your hot cup of ramen or indulge yourself in the sea of chocolate while daydreaming of your favourite idols and fictional characters.

not this awful disaster of you getting tangled in the courts' affairs.

"i suppose, you need help, milady?"

oh no, certainly not. don't call me milady, pretend i do not exist for i certainly do not have the social skills to pretend that i like you, or form a decent conversation especially with men.

"milady?"

you curled yourself, burying your head into the comfort of your gowns. wondering quite a bit of how odd you look in the middle of the hallway.

"milady?" his voice-like whisper came closer, obviously standing beside you right now. "are you okay?"

fuck it. "please, i beg of you to kindly leave me alone as my day has been utterly ruined and—" oh wait, he seems oddly familiar. those lush fluffy hair and kittenish orbs that only softens among those he were close enough.

prince jungwon.

oh! the male lead, oh my god! your jaw hang so low it fell on the ground, your eyes sparkled in dozens of star like universe as you took in his marvelous beauty that you had spent creating meticulously after studying all the '101 rules of how to create the perfect male lead that had the readers heart evaporating & a huge ass green forest that certainly would cause blazing flames'.

"oh my god! you look absolutely gorgeous, i've done it really well didn't i?! oh my god!"

"o-oh—! absolutely, you did well!" he immediately replied back, pressing his lips tight nervously.

wait what? what did he say? oh shit, oh well, covering your mouth instantly as you accidentally let it out before the prince, your precious male lead that you solely created for the female lead. "i—.."

the prince, your very precious character—obviously taken aback with a slight blush dusting of his adorable cheeks as he raise his fist up to his lips, coughing a couple of seconds. a personality trait you very well are familiar of cause that's how you wrote him when he fall in love with the female lead.

your eyes ogled out at that familiar sight, screaming at the back of your mind—wait, wait! you're not supposed to fall in love with me, you idiot! go back! go inside the ball, she's inside there!

"that's oddly brave of you, milady. i'd certainly go as far as to say that i've never seen such traits from a lady." kitten eyes softening at you, crouching down as he lend both of his hands for you. you raised your eyebrow confusingly at what is he trying to pull at but you realise he was intending to get you up.

"u-uhm? uh, sorry. i could get up on my own, actually." yeah, that's what you did. pushing yourself back up despite his protests because you ain't gonna let him fall any further for you, nah uh, not in this life, your mission is to get him and your female lead together inside the frames of birds holding flower wreaths as they went on to their happily ever after.

not with you!

"may i have the honour to know your name, though, milady?" why the fuck isn't he leaving, what is there so interesting in you that he is still standing here asking you such generic questions.

you shouldn't be having the characters attention on you as you obviously wrote it that way, and that even though your character in the novel had tried to get the prince's heart, despite resorting to foul actions, that he never truly had been attracted to her despite this characters' seductive aura.

for you squealed so loud at the scene you wrote, with jungwon putting her in her place. "you are not her, and you would never be her." along with the bunch of your readers hosting a flamboyant celebration under the comments, screaming over how loyal he was.

so what in the actual fuck is this?

"you don't need my name." you nonchalantly answered.

"my apologies?"

"you see, my best friend is in the ball—" you gestured your hands to the entrance of the ballroom, "and she needs your help more than i do."

"wait? why would she need my help?" his eyebrows knitted together in utter confusion as you pushed him through his back.

"of course, she do! don't ask anything!"

"wait!— my name is!" he forcefully turn to face you again, but you immediately covered his mouth with your hands—kabedonning him against the wall.

an excruciating silence occured between you two in the silent hallway, Jungwon freezing to his core when your other hand shoot beside his head.

"listen i don't need your name, dear sir." you emphasise each word, you certainly don't need to know his name nor his status as a prince, not wanting to risk any possible connection with him judging by how he acted before you just now.

"b-but!" his words were muffled into the void as you cupped his mouth tighter.

"shh, shh. stop talking and listen, will you?!"

jungwon nodded slowly, what an odd situation he was in right now, he thought. but somehow he likes it.

"so first step, is go inside the ballroom. second, look for the lady in pink gown, and third—"

"t-third?"

"third is tell her your name! my best friend needs it more than i do!" you release him from your grasp as you went to swing open the huge double door, "now go!" waving a goodbye before kicking his body through the entrance, pulling the door back with your entire strength despite his protests.

oh of course, you finally let out a gag after suppressing it in front of him the entire time as you've never had a proper conversation with a male without stuttering, somewhat a sad tragedy for you, unfortunately. you felt quite guilty about your readers who swoon over the romances you wrote between your leads, weeping over how you're so good at it—not knowing you're a complete introvert with only a gigantic ass dictionary with you.

finally, the male lead and female lead's romances are about to start! you squealed with your hands clasping as you went on your way to the carriage, gesturing for the rider to embark on the way to your heavenly puffy manor with the widest big grin ever that it had him questioning you, "has any gentleman had caught your heart, milady? a couple of hours ago, you were often beyond distraught to attend the ball but insisted when you heard Lady Liz was going."

"oh, you silly." you giggled as you swayed your hand, "of course, that's one of the reasons. but there's another one.."

"may i ask what is it, then?"

you leaned in closer, urging him to get closer as you whispered. "i got the chance to become a Cupid!"

"a Cupid?" you squealed before the old man, hopping like a child for quite awhile before flying into the carriage much to his surprise, but only shook his head in amusement—appalled by how his mistress had changed so much.

"so?" you couldn't help yourself from pulling out the widest eccentric grin at the female lead, extremely curious and ecstatic over what romances had bloom between her and Jungwon.

Liz raises her eyebrow in confusion, "so?.. what do you mean, milady?"

you shrugged, falling back to your seat as you raise your eyebrow in a comical way, "that.." whispering ever so seductively, "prince."

"p-prince?

"yes!" the teacup rattles at your excitement oozing so much that you tapped the table a couple of times. "what happen? what's the tea~"

she lets out a soft giggle, a bit amused by your excitement. "i have no idea what you're trying to imply, milady."

"wait? what are you saying? didn't the prince went to you last night?"

Liz shook her head slowly, her expressions clearly stating that she absolutely don't know what and who you were talking about as a smile pulled up on her lips once again, taking a few sip from her teacup.

veins popped out from your neck as it dawned on you, your head snapped towards the castle on top of the mountain, you stupid of a prince! you cussed at him endlessly at the back of your mind, tightening your fist as your ears and nose fuming in anger. how dare he? he didn't listen to you at all? what in the actual fuck? would this somehow divert the original route? a dozen question arise into your mind one after another, causing you to let out an exaggerated sigh.

facepalming yourself as you imagined the imaginary heavenly light on top of you, weeping to yourself about how tremendously unlucky you are to have a hard headed male lead. it's impossible, you have never added a trait so irritating like this in his profile so how could this happen?

"milady?" the gentle voice of your precious female lead pulled you out of your inner desperation, you leaned in closer, whining so much over how unlucky you were and such, the rest only being in your mind as you pouted.

"ah, i remember now, the prince—"

"WHAT?—" you immediately seated yourself after giving her a potential heart attack, "my apologies, what did you actually.. remember?"

"i assume you were talking about the prince from yesterday? prince jake?"

"no not that bitch— oh certainly not him, ehem.." you took a couple of exaggerated coughs, avoiding her evident confusion. "isn't there a prince.. name jungwon with you that night?"

"oh my goodness! right! prince jungwon!" she shook her head in disbelief with her finger on her head.

right, how did you even forgot that the female lead in front of you had a "weak ass memory" in her profile description. tsk tsk, truly a forgetful author you are. you should be trying your best to remember the things you wrote before and revise it as best as you can, to avoid any possible problems in the future, atleast.

"right, how did i even forget, the prince asked me for your name, milady—"

"huh?" you look at her with confusion, as you were out of reality a couple of seconds ago. your orbs terribly widened as her words slowly sinking in to your brain. "HUH?"

ask your name?! why your name, why not hers?! what did the prince ate that night before stumbling onto your way that he had to ask for your name before the female lead—his own lover?!

laughing awkwardly, you raise your leg on top of another as you nervously swayed your hands repeatedly. "oh dear, oh dear. you might have heard it wrong, the prince?—" snorting outloud as you gestured to yourself, "asking for my name? what a funny news!"

"i didn't, milady. the prince came to me and asked me for your name, as he was immensely curious of who you are so i—"

"so what?—" you can't believe this, you really can't bring yourself to believe any words she was uttering. you should have been bestowed by the news that the prince had taken an interest in her, a hand in marriage, or anything, anything as long as you're out of the picture! "y-you didn't tell him my name, d-didn't you?"

"of course, i did!" exclaimed she did with the widest grin ever.

why are you so freaking happy over this?! clasping your head in your hands as you tragically fall on your knees causing the lady to gasp in shock, ushering to your side to get you up.

"milady?! what's wrong?"

"d-dear," you pouted as you look up to her, "you didn't tell him where my manor's at, r-right?"

she simply replied, "i did? the prince informed me that he's going to send a letter for you to be his partner to the ball."

an imaginary arrow struck back to your heart, forming a humongous hole that threatens to give you a panic attack. what? what in the actual fuck? did you accidentally did something to divert the original story you yourself created? but you didn't even do anything! you tried to do your best to keep the interaction with him as short as possible and he dared to take an interest in you?!

"milady, a letter from the royal palace had arrived for you."

"discard it. throw it. keep it away from my sight."

"milady?!" Liz and the head of the maid exclaimed in utter shock at your nonchalant answer.

"forget about it, forget about it." you clasped your forehead in utter disappointment, yet your brain were creating another plan b for this unexpected turn of events. what should you do? even more so, what would you do now that the prince had asked for you to be by his side to the ballroom?

this won't do, you won't let this happen—you had to look as unattractive and ugly as possible for him to cringe on and finally divert his attention back to the rightfully person who deserved it; the female lead.

your maids could only fall apart every single time you pluck out the enchanting gems they attached on your hair, ears and wrists. their efforts deemed futile as always as you had no mood for any sort of events, it was like a slap to their face as you initially weren't like this. you overheard them that they couldn't get used to how you were adamant in staying behind the spotlight as you often did your very best in dressing yourself up before, with the sole intention of gaining the favour of men and even more better, a prince.

of course, they are totally oblivious to your real identity. only a series of jaw gaping one after another with your change of character, at first—you had a dilemma over whether you should act like the character you created but you later scrap the idea as soon as the anxiety of being engulfed in the crowd suffocated your chest. opting to avoid as many as balls or public events as possible, but that obviously didn't work out that well since you heard of the female lead's arrival from the country side—just like you intended it to be.

and being the proud mother (writer) you are, of course why wouldn't you take one single look at her and see of how far she had came? but alas, one interaction leads to another one and so on—till finally, you became her best friend throughout her entire journey. waiting for the male lead's arrival, and watch their romances blooming and per se—but oh well, look at the situation you were in right now; total disaster.

you truly despise being in such an extravagant puffy gown and the numerous accessories hugging your skin, it's tremendously uncomfortable that you wanted to rip it off part in front of the prince standing before you right now, and right here.

asking for your hand to dance with that odd kittenish smile, that you swore you had never ever written in his personality profile; he should never have been this casual and chill over a person he had just met. he should've been cold as fuck, icy to touch, and a spiralling disaster if you dare to talk to him, so why?

plus how could he have taken an interest in you? you couldn't possibly have added a dose of the love at first sight trope, didn't you? you despised that trope to your very core.

"milady? may i?" he extended his hand before you, patiently waiting for your answer.

you had decided that you're going to reject him quick and efficient—just like the local fast food restaurant your mouth kept drooling over for, smashing a five star review for their inhuman speedy delivery.

"you see, prince jungwon. i have no desire to have a connection with you, a relationship, as a matter of fact."

he raised his eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by your bold words. "i'm curious milady, why so? have i done something that perhaps had annoyed you?"

cliché question, you loathe that. "what if i said you did?"

"then tell me, milady. i'll try my hardest to own up to you—" he took a steps forward, which causes you to immediately step back as well with a frown on your face. you can't, not in this life, to even give him a single chance to get close to you. nah uh.

"no need, and stay one meter apart, please." you pointed your index finger towards the floor and he hesitated, but complied immediately.

"i." you raise your index finger back to yourself and then at him, "don't like you. do you understand?"

"b-but?"

"stop questioning me, prince jungwon." you stayed firm in your spot, "i believe it's a common decency to step back when a lady had voiced out her opinion, a prince like you certainly would understand, am i right?"

Jungwon was clearly taken aback, the fact that you didn't give him a single chance to utter a word nor take a step closer was a hard punch to his face. It feels as if he was trying to reach for you, but you efficiently dodged it with ease. It kind of.. annoys him.

"base on how you didn't say anything anymore, i assumed we're done here! well then, goodbye prince jungwon." you turned your heels towards the entrance, not bothering to waste any time at this goddamn ball. "i hope this will be the very last." you scoffed inside your mind, eager for the story to return to it's original route, and that the prince would soon deem you useless and such—returning to the female lead's arms.

hm, now where's your precious female lead? she should've appeared right now and right here, strike the pot while it's hot!

"i'm afraid i can't back down that easily, milady." jungwon took a few steps forward, wrapping his hand round your wrist as he spun you around to face his eyes filled with blazing determination. one that you specifically added on top of his profile so that your readers would kept it in mind.

your breath hitched down your throat as you remembered there's only two reasons he could have this; one that reminds you when he was at war, shouting at the top of his voice to encourage his soldiers as they push through the enemies, and another reason of it appearing is when he have to get what he wanted, or else all hell will break loose, chaos will ensue.

right, you're truly an idiot. staying a few years in this novel without any memories, and only for it to surface back when you stumble upon the library—dozens of books flickering a series of eccentric images in your mind. It had cause you to lose all memories of important details, only emerging everytime you are presented with a situation you couldn't comprehend. such as when you forgot that the female lead had memory problems and such.

"i'll only present this choices to you, milady. since you tremendously intrigued me over how well spoken you were and fascinating indeed—" bitch, you don't even know how you had the sudden ability to confront him but you were just sure as hell that you don't want to ruin your own novel. no fucking way.

you can't let him have the upper hand on you.

"let me go." irritated to your core, you tried untangle Jungwon's tight grasp on your wrist but he won't budge even an inch which only had you fuming in anger. "i said let me go, bitch!"

the crowd emits a series of gasps and murmurs as you spun around—twisting the prince's arms which had him yelping in pain, and ultimately pinning him onto the ground. with rage consuming you that nothing was going in your way, you slammed your hands on the both side of his head. clenching your jaw and gritting your teeth as you emphasised each word. "you are one a dumb hell of a bitch, when i said i do not want to see you anymore. i mean it. so—"

"so what?" his smug look resurfaces, one that emerges whenever he was being challenged. yes, do that! he should despise you, not take an interest in you! he should loathe you so much that he can't even gaze at you for a second. excitement surged through your veins as you open your mouth, preparing for the last blow.

"so, get lost. just because you're a prince doesn't mean every girl would fall for you, idiot."

an even more louder gasp emits from the crowd as they clearly heard what you said, their jaw gaping and some covering their mouths with their hands as their mind are now bombarded with random questions over how exceedingly brave you are to insult the royal prince, and of what fate will you met now that you've done such an atrocious act.

a low giggle sent shivers down your spine, and goosebumps to riled over your neck as you realise the prince under you had the widest smirk on his face. you frowned deeply, he shouldn't be smirking! he should be fuming in anger and throwing you out of the palace at this moment. so why?!...

"oh milady, how truly fascinating you are." you let out a loud yelp when he grabbed both of your wrists, pulling you closer to his face—a dangerous close proximity against his fluttering eyelashes and lips that your breath caught up in your throat which causes your cheeks to heated up in embarrassment of what kind of position you two were in right now. "i like you, you would certainly be a perfect fit to be by my side."

"what?!" you exclaimed, jaws dropping and eyes about to pop out at his very words. "i don't want to be by your side—"

"a lady like you, i'm afraid to say, intrigues me very much..." Jungwon shots a kittenish wink right through your heart. "be my wife, milady. i'll show you how good I can be for you."

「 © talesofyuan on tumblr 2023 」 all rights reserved. do not copy or post without permission.

[springseasonie]

Hate me more | LMH (M)

Enemies to lovers, Camp counselors Mark x Fem reader

Summary: You really dislike Mark and you're pretty sure he dislikes you too. Ever since he came to the camp last year, he's been nothing short of a headache to you. And now you're forced to work with him this summer, and his mission is clearly to piss you off.

Warnings: sexual content, heavy dubcon/cnc themes, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), kissing (shocker), Mark is annoying, so is the reader tbh, may be errors even though proof read

Word count: 7,7k

Song recs: kiss by NCT dojaejung (this is my way of promoting the unit go stream)

A/N: I was gonna write something for the release of golden hour but this took a bit longer than expected 😭 10 days later an I finally finished it lmao please give feedback if you want it's always appreciated

"Okay kiddos make sure you have all your things before we go back to the cabins okay?"

"Yes Ms. Y/N!"

You gave them a thumbs up as you leaned on a tree, waiting for all the kids to pack up. This was your life every summer for the past 4 years. Being a camp counselor was a lot of work the first time, but by the end of the summer, you had to come back. You loved your kids and they loved you. The staff was always so welcoming and nice. That was true until Mark started the third summer.

He was such an asshole. All the other female counselors gushed over him and his looks. He was constantly flirting with everyone, using his looks and charisma to get himself out of shit. It annoyed you, and Mark instantly took notice. He would side eye you all the time and talk about you as if you weren't friends with everyone else. He didn't really care though, he enjoyed being confronted by you every time he got "caught." Mark found your anger funny, never really taking you seriously.

And now you're paired to work with him this summer.

"Ms. Y/N, where is Mr. Mark? I need help getting something out a tree," one of the kids asked.

"That's a good question honey." You glanced around the area, looking over both shoulders to try and get a sign of him. And of course, he's nowhere to be found. "I don't see him around. We're just gonna have to wait for him okay?"

The little girl nods and runs back to her friends. Ten minutes go by and you start to get annoyed. This happened way more often than you would like to think. Mark disappears to do something or someone for way too long and you're left to take care of the kids by yourself. Sometimes, you almost think it's unbelievable how unreliable he is, sneaking away leaving you alone with 20 children in a forest. But then again, it's on brand for him.

5 more minutes went by and you start to get frustrated. You have no idea what he could be doing that's going to cause all of you to be late for dinner time. "Okay everyone please listen to me okay?" All the kids stop talking and turn to you. "I'm gonna go look for Mr. Mark, but I need all of you to sit in 5 rows of 4. Now." All the kids practically run to sit next to their friends and plop down on the floor.

"Good. None of you move or get up. If anything happens, scream at the top of your lungs okay? I'll be right back." All of the kids agreed as you turned to walk into the forest, going the way you last saw him.

"So fucking irresponsible," you muttered to yourself. "How the hell am I supposed to watch 20 kids by myself?"

You could still hear the kids, so you know you weren't too far away from the area or the trail. This wasn't new for you, always looking for him. It's only been a month since the both of you had to start working together, and he was already making shit hard for you. Mark liked to go hide somewhere. it was either to get away from you, the kids, or to get blown off by some staff member. You couldn't stand it.

"I mean seriously, can't he control himself for one fucking summer," you grumble. "Fucks everything that walks. What an ass."

"Well I wouldn't say that."

Your body jumped violently suddenly hearing his voice next to you. You whipped your head in his direction seeing him sitting, leaning in a tree. Mark had his ear buds in and from where you were standing, you could still hear the music playing.

"Where the hell were you," you asked angrily.

Mark stood up and dusted his pants off as he walked to you. You crossed your eyes, eyeing him up and down. He was so smug about everything. He always looked like something was amusing to him, like there was always a joke to tell.

"Here," he said.

"Clearly. And how the hell do you even have a working phone out here. There is literally no service."

Mark shrugged, wrapping the ear buds around his phone and putting it in his back pocket. "I downloaded stuff before I came."

"Whatever, let's go," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Where are the kids," he asked you, placing his hands in his pockets as he walked.

"In the same place I left them. I had to come get you like you were a lost child. Stop leaving me with all these kids."

Mark smiled in amusement as he walked behind you. You didn't really notice, but you tend to stomp when you are angry. And fortunately for Mark, it wasn't annoying. He actually found it cute, but he wouldn't tell you that.

"Can we take a break? My legs hurt," he whined teasingly.

"Mark, stop playing games. We have 20 kids in the forest waiting for us to come back and the sun will start setting soon," you replied, sighing heavily.

"Oh please we'll be okay."

And at this moment, you've just about had it with him. You turned around, lips pursed at his nonchalant response. Mark stopped in his tracks, looking up at you as you stood on the top of the small hill. "You have one more time to piss me off or I will report you. I'm not joking."

Mark's amused expression washed away as you turned around and kept walking. For the rest of the walk back, he said nothing. Soon enough, the both of you got back to the kids who were still sitting and chatting.

You sighed, groaning quietly. "I'm gonna do another headcount. You get that thing out of the tree."

"Why couldn't you just do it," he complained.

"Because- you know what, just get it out the tree."

You counted all of the kids, double and triple checking everyone and the area around you. Soon enough, Mark got the toy that was stuck in the tree out, and everyone was ready to leave. "Okay everyone you know the drill. Get your buddy and get in line. Mark, you'll watch the back."

"Didn't sound like a question," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I wasn't asking."

"I swear to you I will kill him if I'm ever alone with him again."

"He's really not that bad," Somi said, taking another bite of her pancake.

"Please, bad is an understatement," you say as you sit down. "He fucking left me with 20 kids, and then when we got back and I told him how dangerous that was, he says 'but you handled it, right?'"

Somi laughs, clearly amused at your story. You give her a confused look, not understanding why she wasn't siding with you. "Y/N, anything he says makes you angry."

"That's not the point!" Somi stops laughing when she sees how upset you are. "He left me and 20 kids in the forest near sunset to sit on his ass and listen to music. Then got an attitude with me because I was telling him what do when he wanted to act like a fucking child. I'm tired of it, Somi. I've been dealing with this for a month."

"Shit, I didn't think it was that serious," she said, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly.

"We literally could've had a bear encounter or something. I don't want to keep taking responsibility for his shit," you say, sighing heavily. "Anyways, I'm done complaining. Let's just eat."

You went to bed last night still completely angry at what happened in the forest. Mark didn't say anything to you walking back, but your conversation once you got back to the main camp was nothing short of unpleasant. It consisted of all your usual unpleasantries with him. Mark didn't really seem to care much though. You hated that you always let him get a rise out of you once you said you weren't going to do it anymore. And at this point, you had to get to the bottom of it.

You looked around the dining hall trying to find Mark. You knew he was there, he always came late after roughhousing with the kids in his cabin. Searching around some more, you spot him in line getting food. "I see him."

"Please don't harass the man," Somi begged you.

"Too late." You got up and walked to him. You really needed all this bad energy between the both of you to disappear. You weren't too sure about him, but it made every day difficult and you couldn't deal with it all summer. "Hey buddy," you said, tapping his shoulder.

"Didn't know we were friends."

The fake smile immediately turned into a frown. "Our conversation from last night isn't finished."

Mark groaned quietly as you followed his pace in the line. "Why do you keep bothering me if you don't like me?"

"I'm not bothering you, I'm trying to figure out what your deal is," you whisper yell. You followed Mark to his usual seat with the other male counselors, taking a seat right next to him. You were too focused on him to notice the confused stares you got from everyone else.

"Um, hey Y/N," Haechan greeted you awkwardly. "Is this…your new spot?"

"I came to talk to your friend if you don't mind."

"She's crazy," Mark blurted out, making the table laugh.

You smacked him on the arm, making him turn to you with the brightest smile you've seen all summer. And for some reason this was the first time you looked at him without feeling pure irritation. He was actually pretty…cute?

You couldn't look directly in the eyes, fearing that the anger you felt all morning would go away. Instead of speaking, you got up and went back to the table with Somi.

"So..what happened," she questioned.

"Nothing."

"You don't seem too upset by it," Somi observed.

"What..what are you talking about," you said, trying to deflect.

"You can't fool me, you're terrible at lying," she laughed. Somi took another bit of her pancake, but stopped laughing, giving you a look as if she found out something. "Do you like him?"

"Keep your voice down! And don't eat with your mouth full, you look like a damn kid."

"Y/N, do you like him?"

"Of course not! I can't stand the man," you deny.

Somi squints her eyes and side eyes you, but says nothing. You know she doesn't believe you, but it doesn't really matter because either way, you don't like him. "Okay..just know that today is your day to clean the kitchen."

"I know," you said with a sigh.

"And his also," she reminded you.

"Goodness kill me now."

-

You and Mark cleaned the dishes in the kitchen silently, not daring to say a word. There was an unspoken rule between the 2 of you at the moment, first person to speak surrenders to the other for the entire summer. You'll never surrender to him, no matter what it takes (that's what you want to believe anyway.) Mark had been stealing glances for about 30 minutes now, watching you clean meticulously and quietly. He always thought you were pretty, except for when you were being annoying that is. He always thought of himself as the bigger person, despite his childish nature, so he thought he should end this silent game sooner than expected.

"Did you get sleep," he asked.

"Why do you care?"

"I can't be concerned about my friend," he said. Mark chuckled softly when you sucked your teeth.

"Why do you insist on pissing me off," you say, turning to him. "Like I really don't understand why you don't like me. Since you came here last year, I've been nothing short of annoyed with you."

"It's never been my intention, but I just happen to strike those emotions in some women."

"What the fuck does that mean?" You put down the dirty dishes, crossing your arms as you looked at him with a brow raised.

"It means," he replied, turning to you, "that the more women are attracted to me, the less they like me."

You scoffed, getting back to cleaning the dishes. "You wish. You're out of your fucking mind."

"If I'm crazy, then what exactly was that earlier," he asked. You didn't know, but Mark definitely noticed how you backed off of him during breakfast. The way your expression changed, how quick you got up. It almost seemed like you were running from something, and he knew exactly what it was. "I know you like me."

"I don't like you. I just didn't want to talk to you in front of all your friends. They were laughing at me, so I left," you explained. Mark took two steps to you, his body ending up close to yours. You backed up a bit, not understanding why he was close to you, but he followed you again. "What are you doing?"

"Testing something out," he said simply.

"Look I don't know what you're testing but I'm busy. " Just as you moved away from him, he placed his arms beside you, trapping you under him. The both of you have never been this close before. Sure there were times where he had to catch you or hold you for activities in the forest, but there was nothing like this. This was close. This was personal.

"What are you doing," you asked, shock written all over your face.

"Standing here." Mark's lips curled into a smirk as his eyelids dropped once glancing at your lips. "You're pretty."

"Thank you but I really need to-"

"You know," he started,"you never told me what you wanted to talk about before you left the table."

You sighed, making a dramatic pained expression. "Mark, please. Can you back up?"

"No."

You looked up at him, surprised that his face was closer than before. One more move and your lips would've probably touched his. 'Why am I even thinking about that right now,' you thought to yourself.

"I know you wanna kiss me," he said almost in a whisper. Mark chuckled softly seeing the frazzled look on your face. You were so easy to read, always saying you didn't like him knowing damn well you wanted him. He just wanted to make you say it. He wanted to break your prideful attitude down and make you beg for him.

"You are saying insane things right now." You couldn't even look him in the eye, too afraid you would melt under his body. He was too close. You couldn't control your heart beat or your whirling mind. 'Maybe kissing him wouldn't be so bad,' you thought to yourself, but pushed the thought to the back of your head.

"But you didn't say I was wrong," he said, leaning into your neck.

"Mark, seriously." The slight whine in your voice made you want to run and hide from everyone. You felt like you were going to collapse into his hands the closer he got. His voice was so soft, but his presence was still so dominating. It was almost too much for you to bear.

"What would you do if I kissed you right now," he whispered in your ear, a smile on his face. "Would you push me away, take it and get mad, or maybe give me another one?"

You could barely look at him, let alone speak. You had no idea how to respond to him. You didn't even know if you were supposed to. But what you did know is that if he made one more move or said anything else, you would most likely lose your mind. "Mark, it's too early in the morning for this," you said practically begging him to stop.

Mark released his hand from the counter, placing it on your waist. His grip was firm as he pressed you against the counter more, body so close his leg was between yours. "You're not even trying to run at this point. You little liar."

"Mark..what if someone comes in here?"

"Let them. Why do you care? Are you scared," he teased. Mark kissed the spot behind your ear softly, making you gasp. Your body tensed up in his hand, causing him to rub small circles in your waist in an attempt to comfort you. He kept missing down your neck, moving back up to kiss your jawline.

You stood there, still as a tree. Your eyes fluttered shut, taking in the feeling of his lips on your skin. At this rate there was no point in fighting it. He had already won like he did with everyone else. You felt Mark's hand leave your waist, grabbing your chin as he ran his finger down your bottom lip.

"If you want me to stop I will."

You shook your head unconsciously, brows slightly frowning at his words. You were desperate and he definitely knew from the way you were frozen and speechless.

"Good girl." Mark kissed you softly, but deeply. His hand slowly made its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. You dare to touch him, feeling like it was way too intimate. But before you could even pull away, he kissed you again, this time with even more sincerity. You didn't know why you had such a heavy feeling in your chest, but it did scare you a little bit.

"We have to finish all of this stuff in 15 minutes. You think we can make it," he asked on your lips.

"If you stop fast enough, maybe.."

Mark chuckled softly at your response, pulling away from you. He was clearly extremely turned on, but you were not the kind to help him with his problem, and he knew that. But that didn't stop his mind from drifting, thinking about how hot it would be if you dropped to your knees at this very moment.

"Wasn't that fun Y/N?"

"What are you talking about," you said, covering your face in embarrassment.

"Unwinding instead of having a stick up your ass," he jabbed.

You dropped your hands, scoffing at him. You shoved your way out of his arms, walking to the sink he was at previously. "Gosh, you're so annoying," you mumbled as you scrubbed the dirty plates.

"Yeah but you like it though."

"You wish."

"Proved my point."

You and Mark haven't spoken since the kitchen fiasco. You said a couple of words to each other when it came to the kids, but nothing more than that. You couldn't even look at him, the shame filling your body once he came into your vision. But one thing was for sure- you definitely didn't hate him as much. You were still very confused. You didn't understand where all those feelings came from for Mark in the kitchen. Maybe your subconscious? It didn't really matter, you just wanted to make sense of everything.

"Okay everyone, tonight is movie night so we need to leave a little early okay," you announced.

Mark leaned on a tree silently watching you as you interacted with the kids. You didn't know that he had conflicting feelings as well. All the teasing and messing around turning into sexual tension was not what he hoped for. He just wanted to mess with you. He wasn't actually going to kiss you for real, but when he saw the desperate scrunch of your eyebrows, how could he resist himself? If it weren't for the kids, he would definitely have his way with you right on the ground, but nothing in his life ever works right.

Mark admired the way you were with them, always so nice and careful. You were careful with anything really, never wanting to come off as irresponsible or rude. But he never cared about any of that. He didn't care if people thought he was a prick or an ass, which is why you were so intriguing to him. He never got a chance to actually introduce himself to you before you can dislike him as easily as you did.

After 20 minutes of walking back to the main site, the sun had finally set and all the kids and counselors went back to their respective cabins before going to the lake for movie night.

"So you're telling me," Somi started,"after all these months of not liking him, he came onto you in the kitchen and you didn't refuse?"

"I know, I know it's humiliating," you grumbled putting on your shirt.

"Enemies to lovers. My favorite trope."

You let out a loud embarrassed groan listen to her words. "We only kissed twice. We didn't say anything to each other for the rest of the day," you added.

"Not even for your group," she questioned.

"Well of course we did, but very little. He was..so distant," you said. You slipped into your jean shorts and put your shoes back on quickly. "I'm gonna go make sure all the girls are ready." You got up and walked outside to see everyone playing around. Just as you were about to round up your cabin, you see Mark who's talking to some of his kids. You wanted to stop staring at him, but you couldn't. You gulped as he glanced at you, giving you a small wave. "I hate him," you muttered to yourself almost as if you were trying to convince yourself it was true.

You shake your head, attempting to push what happened out of the forefront of your mind, but it's hard to do that when he's walking up to you. You turn away from his direction, hastily gathering the girls from your cabin. Just as you were about to make your way to the lake, you were tapped on the shoulder. Turning around agonizingly slowly, you face him with a fake smile.

"Hi," you said awkwardly.

"Hey, so listen-"

"I can't talk right now, we're about to head to the lake," you interrupted.

"I know but-"

"Can't talk."

Mark sighed, looking down at his shoes. He knew you were difficult, but not like this. "Can we talk after the movie?"

"Talk..about what? There's nothing to talk about," you say dismissively.

Mark rolled his eyes, walking away from you. You looked behind yourself, watching him walk back with his hands in his pockets. All that you could hope for was him forgetting whatever conversation he wanted to have with you.

Your cabin was the first to get to the lake while Mark's was the last like always. The movie started at 7, so thankfully for you, you could be left alone for 2 hours. You leaned against a tree as you watched the movie projected on the sheet quietly.

Unlike you, Mark was watching you silently, eyes never leaving your body as you stared at the screen. He knew you wanted nothing to do with him even after he kissed you, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He's never been in a situation like this before. Having to chase after you was starting to dampen his pride, but he liked it.

He watched as you whispered to Somi about something, not able to read your lips. Maybe he shouldn't have thought to follow you as you walked away from everyone, but getting to be alone with you came rare, so he had to take his chances.

"Hey, I'm gonna go back to the cabin. I forgot something," he whispered to Haechan.

"Okay, be quick though. I don't wanna be responsible for you," he replied.

Mark gave him a dry laugh and walked away, following you from behind. Mark picked up that you were going to your cabin after a few turns on the trail. The sun was starting to set, so he began to rationalize he weird actions to himself. "It's not weird that I'm following her," he muttered to himself quietly. "I'm just keeping her safe." It was surprising how you didn't notice anyone was following you. You were usually always attentive, but it seems that you were only that way with other people.

Soon enough, the both of you made it to your cabin. You went inside with a big sigh, letting the door slam behind you. Mark would be a kind person and knock on the doors but he wasn't all that kind, so scaring you is the option he went with. Mark quickly went up to the door, opening it quietly. Your back was turned as you rummaged through a bag for something, causing you to not hear his footsteps or the door creaking open.

"Boo!"

"Fuck," yelled, body jumping violently as you turned around. "Mark?"

"Surprise."

You scoffed rolling your eyes at his jazz hands motion. "You're not funny. Now get out, this is a girls cabin."

"I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted to talk." He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as you went back to looking for whatever you were looking for.

"I really don't care, just leave," you said sternly.

Mark had enough of beating around the bush with you, the constant teasing, and asking dumb questions. He had to know why there was bad blood between you, especially after you let him kiss you that morning. "Why don't you like me?"

"You're kidding." You let out a dry laugh as you turned to face him. "I don't like you? I'm pretty sure it's the other way around."

"I'm just curious because since last year, you never gave me a chance, so I really want to know," he said, lifting his brows with a small smile.

"I want you to tell me why you don't like me first, then maybe I'll consider explaining myself to you."

Mark took small steps towards you, not being able to control the smirk on his face when you furrow your brows in confusion. "You're uptight and rude to me. And you never give me your attention unless it's to be rude with me, and I hate that that's the only way I get to talk to you. You only want to speak to me if it's to tell me how bad of a job I'm doing or how frustrating it is to be around me or work with me."

"That's not true, I-"

"I'm not done." You closed your mouth, intimidated by how commanding his voice was. "Then you go around and say to everyone how much you hate me. I know you complain to Somi and all the other counselors, and that's fine. But next time I would like to hear it from you directly."

"That I hate you?" You gave him a weird look, making him chuckle softly.

"Yes. Tell me that you hate me." He was walking closer to you slowly, arms now at his sides as he looked down at you with hungry eyes. Your arms were still crossed as you stood there, not allowing yourself to show how intimidating he was to you. Your face was calm, but your heart was beating faster with every step he took.

"I'm not telling you I hate you. Can I talk now," you asked.

"Go for it."

"You're fucking annoying and not helpful. You came into this camp last year and made all these friends and everyone liked you instantly. Everyone says you're funny and such a great guy but I have yet to see it. All you've done since you've been here was piss me off."

"You wanna know why," he said. He leaned down to your ear, a smile tugging at his lips. "Because you're pretty when you're angry."

"That's not funny," you said, looking away from him.

"I wasn't joking." Mark moved away from you, eyes going straight to your lips.

"Seriously mark, I don't care that you like to get me riled up, but yesterday was uncalled for. Do you have any idea…will you stop staring at me like that?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Mark could barely concentrate on what you were saying. Your expression, the way you spoke, how close the 2 of you were. All he wanted was to just kiss you and shut you up for the night. Mark could barely keep his hands off you, every bit of self restraint coursing through his veins.

You sighed trying to back up from him, but all you did was bump the edge of your bed making you fall back. You plopped on the thin mattress placing your hand behind you to stay balanced on the bed. Mark's gaze turned dangerous, staring at you as if you were prey.

"God you're so hot," he mumbled.

"Mark," you said, his name coming out a bit breathlessly.

Before you could finish your sentence, he pinned your body to the bed. You were dead silent as you watched his eyes move rapidly along your face and body. "Mark..we can't. We have to be back soon."

"Stop fighting it. Just say you want me," he mumbled quietly. He leaned into your neck, breath tickling your skin as you closed your eyes.

You shook your head, brows furrowing as you tried to push the feeling to the back of your head. But the only thing you can think about is how his hands are leaving your wrists as he moves them down your body. Your breath hitched when his fingertips brushed against the slightly exposed skin of your stomach. You didn't stop him as he lifted your shirt, hands attaching to waist firmly.

The both of you stayed silent, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of breathing and your old bed creaking at every movement he made. You watched him as he moved his hands lower, fingers resting on the button of your jean shorts. Mark looked at you for any signs of you wanting to stop, but all he saw was the desperation on your face.

You gulped watching him unbutton and unzip your shorts, lifting your hips as he tugged them off you. Mark took his shirt off, laying it next to your shorts. He hooked his fingers on your underwear, pulling them off you quickly. You let out a small yelp when he tugs you towards him, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he moves between your legs.

'Just get on with it,' was all you could think. You were way too eager to get him between your legs, and at this point, nothing was going to stop it. "Hurry up," you said, breaking the long silence.

Mark didn't say anything or look at you, all he did was smile as his face disappeared between your legs. A small gasp of please leaves your lips as he kitten licks your core. You close your eyes, letting your head fall back onto the mattress taking in every movement. He ran his hand up and down your leg, nails lightly scratching your skin making you shiver. Needing more friction, you begin to grind yourself on his tongue slowly, but he stops you with a hold on your hips.

"We're gonna do this nice and slow okay," he said.

"We can't, we have to get back soon."

"They'll be okay. There's more than enough people out there." Before you could say anything his mouth was back on your core, tongue pressing against your sensitive bud hard. Without thinking your hands made their way to his hair, fingers running through the blonde locks. Mark kept licking at you agonizingly slow, chuckling when you whined for more. He would speed up at moments, flicking his tongue against your clit faster just to tease you, then stop.

"Please," you begged breathlessly, "it feels like I'm being punished."

"I know," he mumbled.

You smacked him on the side of his head softly, making the male look up at you with a brow raised. "I fucking hate you."

Mark chuckled, removing one of his hands from your hip. He didn't take his eyes off of you as he slid two fingers into you, pumping them slowly. Mark watched as you basically fell apart in his hands, moans never stopped spilling from your lips. He began licking your clit, but faster, almost sending you over the edge.

"Shit, don't stop," you whined softly. You couldn't control your hips as you grinded against his fingers and tongue. Your jaw dropped when he fingered you faster. Gripping his hair, your hips moved on their own as you grinded faster. You were so close, your core pulsing on his fingers. "Fuck I'm gonna cum," you whined.

Your whines became louder, the pornographic sounds of your moaning, bed creaking, and sounds coming from Mark filling the empty cabin. This is one the many times you thanked God no one was around. Your eyes rolled back and body shuddered as your orgasm hit you like a truck making you mumble curses that not even Mark could make out. You let go of his hair, plopping back down on your mattress breathing heavily.

"I'm assuming that was the first time you came in a month?" Mark slid his fingers out of you slowly, wiping the digits on your sheets. He moved your leg off his shoulder, lifting himself from between your legs.

"Do you think I'm getting myself off after hiking and being around kids in this damn camp everyday," you asked, rolling your eyes at his statement.

"No. I think you're too uptight to do that," he said with a soft chuckle.

"It's crazy that you're still calling me uptight like I won't get up and leave."

Mark didn't respond to you, laughing softly to himself knowing you wouldn't move either way. He moved off the bed untying his sweats. You watched him as he let his clothes fall to the ground, eyeing his body. Not that you couldn't get it before, but now you see why he was a big deal to the other female counselors.

"Aren't we gonna use protection," you asked, gulping when he was back in front of you.

"I don't have any," he mumbled.

"You're so fucking ridiculous," you grumbled. "You're lucky I'm on birth control."

Mark could barely hear you with how eager he was to see you lose yourself for him. No amount of mean words or insults could turn him off in the moment, every word you spoke sounded like exactly what he needed to hear. "You're so fucking hot when you're mad." His lids dropped as he grabbed your ankles, pulling you closer to him.

"Don't tease, we don't have all night," you whined.

Mark couldn't take his eyes off you as he lined himself with you, slowly entering you with ease. You looked pretty under the light of the setting sun peering through the window. The light hit your eyes perfectly as they rolled back, soft moans leaving your lips at the same time. Mark thrusted into you slowly holding your waist firmly. He wanted to savor the moment, finally able to get you under him, because even though he had you now, he might not ever get you again. It was taking everything in him to not ram into you after every move not wanting it to end too quickly.

With the way he was looking at you you thought he was gonna eat you alive. And in all honesty you would let him. It was conflicting to you that all this pent up aggression towards him exploded into sex, but you were clearly not that conflicted. You would never tell him, but you had always been attracted to him and the kiss was just the tip of the iceberg.

He slid his hands up the back of your legs, pinning them to your chest as he thrusted into you faster. Your moans echoed in the empty cabin, not even thinking about if anyone could be near. "Feels so good," you moaned.

"Who's making you feel good?"

"Fuck..you are," you whined, eyes fluttering shut as you take in pleasure.

"Good girl," he cooed. Mark watched as you slipped your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit at the same place as his thrust. His fingers were constantly kneading your legs, leaving prints in your skin. "You're close aren't you baby?"

You nodded fast, looking at him with desperate eyes. "Kiss me.. please."

Mark didn't have to think twice. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss quite literally sticking his tongue down your throat. You sucked on the wet muscle, moaning loudly on his tongue every time he thrusted into you.

"Mark..fuck," you moaned softly. Mark took a hand off your leg, wrapping an arm on the small of your back pulling you closer to him. You kissed him again, moans and whimpers poured into his mouth.

Mark moaned softly against your lips as you squeezed around him, cumming on his length. You pulled away, your lewd sounds becoming louder as he didn't stop fucking you. Mark leaned down, kissing your neck messily as you clung onto his shoulder. Mark has never had this kind of passionate feeling with a person before. It was starting to feel like more than just a sexual attraction to him, maybe he did actually have feelings for you.

"Cum in me," you said cupping his face.

Mark looked at you, brows furrowing in uncertainty. "A-are you sure? I-"

"Please baby just cum for me," you mumbled, completely taken over by the pleasure spreading in your body. "Can you do that for me?"

"Anything for you," Mark breathed out. Your words went straight to his length, his pace speeding up as he felt himself closer to cumming.

Your jaw went slack, eyes rolling back as you felt another orgasm creeping up on you. "Y-you're gonna make me cum," you whimpered.

With just a few more thrust, both you and Mark came at the same time, loud moans and groans filling the space. Mark's body went limp, laying on top of you with his face buried on the side of your neck. No one said anything for a minute, just laid there in each other's embrace trying to catch your breaths.

"I guess you don't hate me after all," Mark joked, breaking the silence.

"Only a little less."

Mark snickered as pulled himself out of you slowly. "Let's get you something to clean up with." He got up and pulled his boxers and pants on. You were sure it was because you just had sex with him, but the way you looked at him was different now. Before you were completely annoyed by his presence, but now even the little faces he made were endearing. Of course, Mark would never stop being an infuriating person to talk to but maybe you like talking to him. Maybe you liked being around him this whole time.

"If you want to go for round 2 just say it." Mark walked back to you with tissues, handing them to you with a smile. He chuckled softly when you gave him a frown for his comment. "Back to hating me I guess."

"I don't hate you Mark," you admit. The words felt unnatural to you, but they were the truth. You don't hate him, and you don't think you ever did.

"I'd like it if you did though," he said, sitting on the edge of your bed. "If what we just did considered hate fucking, please hate me more."

You rolled your eyes, tossing the dirty tissues in the trash bin across the room. "Who said it was gonna happen again?" Mark watched you closely as you shimmied back into your underwear and shorts. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"Yeah." He stood up, pulling you to him, making you gasp softly. Mark kissed you deeply, smiling against your lips when you kissed him back. "We should get back. I think we've been gone too long," he mumbled.

You nodded, kissing him one more time before he pulled away from you agonizingly slow. "Please don't be weird when we get back. I don't want to have to hate you again," you joked.

"Didn't I just tell you I want you to hate me more?"

"What do you mean you fucked him last night," Somi whisper yelled.

"Yeah..I did..right on the bed you're sitting on."

"Ew ew ew." She shot up from your bed with a frown on her face, making you laugh loudly. "Seriously what is wrong with you, why didn't you say that before I sat down?"

"Thought your reaction would be funny, and it was," you'd aid giggling.

Somi looked at you with disgust on her face, dusting off her body. "Anyways…are you guys like..a thing now?"

"I don't know. I don't think so," you answered.

"Well do you wanna be a thing?"

"Well..I think I do," you admitted. "But I don't know him that well, you know. All I did was have sex with him. What if he doesn't want anything," you said.

"You want me to be honest?"

"Please do."

"I think you should go talk to him. Like right now," she suggested.

"Now? I don't even know if he's in his cabin," you stated.

"Just go. If he's not there, go back another time. You should talk to him while your feelings are still fresh," she suggested.

Somi was right. Even though you thought it was still a bit early to talk to him, you couldn't stop thinking about him all day and all night. Throughout the day, the both of you kept stealing glances, staring at each other but not saying a word. It's been hard trying to keep your bubbling feelings for him at bay, especially when you're working so close for the summer. But Somi was right, it wouldn't hurt to try.

You nodded, sighing softly. "You're right. I should go." You turned walking to the door, but when you opened it, Mark was standing there, hand up like he was about to knock.

"Oh," you said, surprised. "Hi."

"Hey," he said, looking everywhere but at you. "Can I, um, talk to you?"

"Uh, yeah. You wanna talk here or.."

"Just walk with me. Please?" You've never seen him so nervous or unsure before. It was kind of cute. You agreed, leaving the cabin and walking along the trail with Mark.

The first couple of minutes were silent. Neither one of you said anything. The only thing that could be heard were the sounds of your feet on the dirt trial and the laughter of children from afar. But it wasn't an awkward kind of silence. It felt comfortable, he felt comfortable and warm.

"I really like you Y/N," he started. "And I know it might be weird for you, but I just felt like you had to hear it."

His words went straight to your heart, making it beat faster with every syllable. You blinked fast, not really knowing how to respond. You were afraid of coming into him too strongly, saying something that would scare him away, but you had to say something.

"I..like you too," you confessed. Your face was beginning to heat up, palms becoming clammy from the nervousness. You haven't been like this since middle school, all shy and nervous.

"So..where should we go from here?" Mark raised a brow and looked at you. You glanced at him quick enough to not want to run away from the situation all together. He grabbed your hand, making you pause mid step. Your heart was beating so fast you could hear it at this point, and you were sure he could too.

"I, uh, I don't know," you stuttered.

Mark chuckled, clasping his fingers with yours. "I've never seen you so nervous."

"I'm not nervous." You don't know who exactly you were trying to prove that too, but it definitely wasn't him because as soon as you spoke he laughed.

"I think we should start over this summer," he said. "I think we should meet each other for the first time again."

You looked at him confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he started, turning to you. He stopped walking and tugged your hand to look at him. "I mean we should start again from a clean slate. I want to get to know you better on a good note, but only if you're willing."

You gulped looking down at your feet. You must've looked like a kid with the way mark was smiling down at you. "I..I would like that. I'd like that a lot actually." You looked at him, expression going from shy to worriedm. "I'm sorry for y'know being rude and everything."

Mark didn't say anything, allowing your words to linger for a moment before he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was softer this time, more innocent. Mark pulled away with a small smile on his face. "You don't have to apologize to me for anything. I know I've been an ass, and I'm willing to make up for it."

It was hard to keep a smile off your face and stop yourself from blushing like a kid. "If we do this, will you stop talking to me once we're out of here," you asked.

"Y/N when I said I liked you I was serious. I don't want this to be a summer fling. I actually want to get to know you before I date you," he explained.

Your eyes went wide, completely flustered from his statement. "You want to date me?" Your heart fluttered repeating his words almost immediately, getting butterflies in your stomach. "But I've been so terrible to you and-"

"So? We like each other and we should explore that this summer."

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. You let go of his hand and placed it on the back of his neck, kissing him. This was the first time you kissed him. And it felt good. It felt good knowing that you didn't have to keep trying to convince yourself you didn't like him, or that you were never attracted to him. You pulled away, eyes never leaving the man in front of you. You didn't know if this conversation would make a difference for the rest of the day or the rest of the summers, but if Mark was true to a hate he said, you could wait.

But if not, then maybe you just might hate him for real.

[supernovafics]

𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 5.9k words

summary: in which it’s been six months since a random night in a bar brought together two pairs of best friends, and two couples were formed. in those months that came and went, almost in a lovestruck blur, they entailed a countless amount of formal double dates, late night hangouts in someone’s apartment, and more moments in bars that led to lazy days in bed the next morning due to the hangovers. at times things felt way too good to be true. but, in a good way, a great way. you loved steve, and anyone with two eyes could easily see how much he was in love with you

warnings: explicit language, smut (mdni!), lots of fluff, a lil angst, soft!steve/steve being so adorably in love with reader 

author’s note: read part one here! for once i’ve written something that is not drowning in angst! lmao i almost went in a completely different direction with this but i wanted to keep it lighthearted and fun and cute so anyway enjoy!<33

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was hard not to admire Steve while he was asleep in your bed.

He always looked so peaceful; head against the pillow that quickly became “his,” hair mildly disheveled and going every which way, and mouth pulled into a straight line that looked soft instead of hard and sweet instead of firm.

You wanted to kiss him. But, you couldn’t do so right then, so instead, you took another sip of your morning coffee and simply watched him as you leaned against your dresser.

“You’re staring,” He mumbled, one side of his mouth quirking upward in a small smile.

“Your eyes are closed right now, so I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” You responded, making your tone sound completely confused.

Steve opened his eyes then and you immediately pulled your eyes away from him and became fixated on a random spot on your wall. You took another sip of your coffee to mask your growing smile.

Steve’s smirk deepened as he maneuvered in the bed and sat up to lean against the headboard. The now lack of comforter covering his body revealed his chest that was bare, because you were wearing his shirt, and revealed the top of the navy plaid boxers he had on.

“I could feel your pretty little eyes on me, honey.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him because he knew exactly how affected you were by any term of endearment he’d use on you; they always made you slightly cringe while simultaneously folding into a giant ball of mush.  

“I hope you know that I do in fact hate you anytime you do that.”

Steve ignored your statement, which was pretty much a blatant lie, and only smiled at you some more. “C’mere.”

You wanted to play with him a bit longer, pretend that he couldn’t make you fold so easily; even though he absolutely, completely always could and did. But at that point, you knew you couldn’t resist, and you honestly didn’t want to.

Placing your mug down on the dresser, the next few moments passed by in a knowing blur that felt like second nature to you because of how frequent the events would happen. You settled yourself in Steve’s lap, knees on either side of his waist. His hands snaked under your, his, shirt to find your hips and give the skin a light squeeze.

“You should still be sleeping right now,” You said, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. “You were up a lot later than me last night.”

His new job wasn’t that demanding, but because of how much Steve loved it, he made it much more intense than it actually was, and he was completely happy with that.

It had all happened about a month and a half ago. Marissa had convinced you all to go to her ten-year-old cousin’s middle school basketball game. It was almost a two-hour drive to where they lived in Indiana which was close to the border of Indiana and Illinois, and actually kind of close to where you and she had grown up in Illinois.

When the four of you walked into the slightly empty gym and saw that the team was losing pretty badly, you found out quickly from Marissa’s aunt that it was because their coach quit last second, so the kids were pretty much fending for themselves along with a parent acting as coach who had no athletic experience so he was just telling them to do whatever they wanted.

Robin was the one that jokingly mentioned that Steve had been the star of their high school’s basketball team and would probably be a great coach, and Marissa’s aunt perked up at hearing that and successfully convinced the other parents in the crowd to have him do it. He was initially reluctant because he didn’t think he’d be good, but there was nothing scarier than adamant parents who wanted to see their kids win, so, of course, he ultimately said yes.

In a way, it seemed almost perfect how easily Steve was able to fall into that role, and when the team won that night, for the second time out of the eleven games they’d played so far that season, the school offered him a permanent coaching position right then.

He was slightly hesitant and didn’t accept the job at first. Because he knew the pay wouldn’t be the best and the commute every day would be brutal. But, even as he told you those cons, you could already see how happy the idea of the job itself made him, and how second nature it seemed.

“It’s the random opportunity that has fallen into your lap.” You had told him that night in his bed, fingers running through his hair and a small smile on your face. “You have to take it.”

And he did.  

And he loved it and put his whole heart into coaching those little middle schoolers; coming up with new plays and ideas for practice almost every night. You found it both adorable and endearing how seriously he took it.

“I’m okay,” He responded with a small shrug, and then he looked up at you as he smiled, leaning closer to you. “Besides, your staring problem makes it really hard to sleep.”

You almost playfully shoved him, but your eyes instead slipped shut when his lips found your neck. You were still able to respond somewhat coherently, though. “Hm, I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve mumbled something against your neck that you couldn’t make out but the soft hum of his lips against your skin made you want to combust. Before he left any marks on your neck, because he knew how much of a hassle it was for you to cover them, he moved up to trailing soft kisses along your jaw before finally reaching your mouth.  

“Mm, coffee,” He whispered against your lips, tasting the slight remnants of what you had been drinking before he woke up and what was still sitting on your dresser.

You slowly started moving yourself against him and it made you smile how quickly a soft groan fell from his lips at your action. “There’s a fresh pot in the kitchen if you wanna get that right now instead of doing this.”

Steve groaned again at a particularly rough stir of your hips. “I think coffee can wait.”

“Great answer,” You said and kissed his nose.

His hands went to the hem of the t-shirt and you almost helped him pull it off of you, but a knock on your door halted your next movements.

“Hey, lovebirds, wake up if you’re still sleeping.” It was Marissa’s slightly muffled voice coming through the door. “Or if you’re fucking, please stop. Also, it’s barely nine in the morning so if you are fucking, you two are insane.”

You refrained from laughing at her statement as you softly swatted Steve’s hand away that was still trying to push your shirt upward.

“What’s going on?” You asked, voice loud enough so your best friend could hear you.

“Important family meeting.”

“Once again, something about you calling all of us a family feels slightly incestual,” You said as you began maneuvering yourself off of Steve.

“I know you hate it, but we are kind of a little family,” You heard her say. “In a completely nonrelated, ‘we’re two couples who are also all best friends’ kind of way.”

In a way, Marissa was right, and you could fully see that. Six months ago the four of you were two separate little pairs of friends and now there were two couples and four pretty close friends.

You all were a tight-knit group that was forged together by one random Friday night in a bar, and sometimes this strong interconnectedness worried you. Because if something happened to either you and Steve or Marissa and Robin, you had no idea what that would mean for the rest of the group.

Anytime you’d have those moments of worry, something would always tell you that in the end, it would be you to mess everything up. It was an irrational thought, a part of you knew that, but it still felt way too true because of how almost “wrong” it felt for things to be this good.

How deeply you’d found yourself loving Steve in such a short period of time still scared you as much as it made you feel so fucking happy.

“You okay?” Steve asked, pulling you out of your thoughts as he came up and wrapped his arms around you from behind.

You instinctively leaned into his touch and let your previous thoughts fade away as you always did. You never verbalized these fears to him, or even Marissa, a part of it felt unnecessary and you also didn’t want to fully acknowledge your worries because of how much more real they’d feel if you did say them aloud.

Your next words came out in a soft mumble. “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking about stupid stuff.”

Steve didn’t question you any further and simply nodded at your response before sneaking a quick kiss on your cheek and then moving to slip his jeans on.

You pulled his t-shirt off and tossed it to him as he headed toward your bathroom, and then you went to put on a random wrinkled hoodie of yours. Before opening your door to head into the living room, you grabbed your cooling coffee off of your dresser and took a sip, glad that it was still mostly warm.

“Morning,” You smiled at Robin who was leaning against the kitchen counter and eating a buttered piece of toast. You began refilling your coffee with what was left in the pot because you knew Steve would want some when he emerged from the bathroom.

“Morning,” She smiled back at you and took another bite of her toast. “Where’s the dingus?”

“Bathroom,” You answered and she nodded at that. “Do you know what this ‘family meeting’ is about?”

Robin quickly shook her head. “Nope. Marissa’s keeping me in the dark too.”

“That’s because I want you all to be surprised,” Marrisa said, from where she was sat cross-legged on the couch, textbook open in her lap because she had a huge test in a couple of days and had been religiously studying for it for the past week. Her nearly perfect time management skills still always managed to amaze you.

Steve came out of your room moments later and you held out the mug for him. He smiled at you as he took it and pressed a quick kiss against your lips. “Thank you. Love you.”

You leaned into him and his free arm circled around your shoulders. “Love you too.”

He took a quick sip of the coffee and let out a small sigh of contentment. “Did I miss the meeting?”

“No, and now that you’re here, I can share the great news,” Marrisa said before getting up from the couch and joining you all in the kitchen, standing next to Robin. “Okay, so remember how we all have been talking about how we need to take a couple’s trip soon?”

You all nodded along to her words, and you almost said that it was really only her that had been talking about doing a couples trip for the past few weeks, but you refrained from doing so because she looked so happy with what she was about to say.

“My aunt has a really nice cabin right by a lake and she said we can use it for a weekend. Next weekend, to be specific. So clear your calendars.”

“Ooh,” Robin said as she wrapped an arm around Marissa, pressing a soft kiss against her cheek. “Sounds fun.”

“Yes, and only slightly like the beginning of a horror movie,” Steve joked with a small laugh. His words startled you a bit because that was exactly what you were about to say.

You smiled up at him. “I think we share the same brain.”

He grinned widely at that and pecked your lips. “Can I keep it for the rest of the day?”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was actually very rare that you and Steve would have either apartment entirely to yourselves. Although it shouldn’t have been rare because the four of you could’ve easily come up with some sort of system to make sure that you and Steve, and Marissa and Robin were alone in one of your two shared places, but none of you really cared enough to do it.

But, on this night, it was just you and Steve in the apartment he had with Robin because she and Marissa were out seeing a movie that neither you nor Steve really wanted to see.

Things were quiet but the good kind, the comfortable kind. Steve was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch while also hunching over the coffee table as he brainstormed and wrote out some new plays that he wanted the kids to try out next week. And you were laying on the couch, a campaign that you had been working on for the past week in your hands as you stared at it for what felt like forever. Your boss had told you there was something wrong with it, but she didn’t tell you what that “wrong” thing was so you were left simply staring at the paper and having absolutely no idea what to change about it.

“Hey,” You said softly to grab Steve’s attention and when he turned his head to look up at you, you held up the paper in your hand for him to look at; maybe a fresh pair of eyes could tell you something that you couldn’t see. “What’s wrong with this?”

Steve stared at it for a few moments and then his eyebrows furrowed. “Is this a trick question? It looks really good to me.”

You let out a small sigh as you let your eyes focus on the paper again. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”

Steve was about to say something else but before he could, the sound of the phone ringing in the kitchen stopped him and caught both of your attention.

He started moving to get up, but you stopped him and stood up instead. “I’ll get it. I need a break from looking at this.”

You headed over to the kitchen and picked the phone up off the hook, placing it at your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey– Wait, who is this? This is a girl’s voice, so you’re definitely not Steve. But, you’re not Robin, either.” It was clearly a guy’s voice on the other end, but it didn’t sound familiar to you.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Holy. Shit.” The sudden and pure excitement in his voice slightly startled you. “The Y/N?”

“Um, yeah, I guess?” You answered, pretty much answering his question with one of your own. “Who’s this?”

“I’m Dustin. Steve’s friend. Probably his best friend after Robin, even though I was technically here before Robin,” He said and it all kind of clicked into place for you from there because of how much you heard about him from Steve and Robin. “Anyway, it’s cool to finally meet you. Well, sorta meet you, I guess. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Your attention turned to Steve, who was back to being hunched over the coffee table, and a small smile took over your features. “All good things I hope.”

“Oh yeah, literally only good things. Steve’s obsessed with you.”

You let out a small laugh at that. “Oh, really? Do tell me more.”

Dustin didn’t waste a second to launch into a story. “He was rambling to me about you for a good two hours last week. He was just going on and on about how you guys went to some bar and were playing pool, and you were really good which he thought was so cool. And you were making fun of him for being bad, but still let him win a couple of games. He does absolutely suck at pool, I know that for certain.”

You remembered that night pretty vividly, mainly because it had happened barely a week ago but also because you’d never forget how bad Steve was at pool. You actually thought it was kind of cute. You also didn’t think it had been that obvious that you let him win a few times.

“He said he wouldn’t mind getting beat by you in pool for the rest of his life,” Dustin continued on. “He specifically even mentioned something about being old in wheelchairs. He’s so in love with you. You’re definitely his Suzie.”

“Suzie?” You questioned, and at that Steve finally pulled his attention away from what he was doing and looked at you.

“Who is it?” He asked you and you ignored him because your attention was solely trained on hearing Dustin’s answer.

“Suzie’s my girlfriend and she’s amazing and awesome and pretty much perfect,” The teen explained. “It’s awesome that Steve’s found you. From how he talks about you, you sound pretty perfect too.”

You smiled at his words.

It was then that you realized exactly how different things were with Steve. Because hearing about how much he loved you and how often he’d lovingly ramble about you didn’t scare you in the slightest. You knew that if this was any other relationship, any other guy, you’d want to immediately run in the other direction. But, you honestly didn’t want to run away and that realization made all of your previous worries and fears feel nonexistent.

Dustin started saying something else, but you couldn’t make it out before Steve took the phone from you.

“Henderson,” He said in an annoyed voice to the boy on the other end of the line and then looked at you. “What embarrassing stuff did he say to you?”

“Oh, nothing embarrassing at all,” You told him as you headed back to the couch, a sweet smile on your face. “Just how much you love me and my fantastic pool skills. Which actually aren’t that good, you’re just really bad. But, I still love you.”

He playfully flipped you off with a roll of his eyes and a small laugh as he continued talking to the teen on the other end.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was a soft kiss pressed against a certain sensitive part of your neck that pulled you from your sleep. Sleep that had been much needed after the first night at the lake house that ended at one in the morning after a heated game of charades against Marissa and Robin that happily resulted in you and Steve winning. 

You groaned at the feeling and rolled on your side to try and lull yourself back to sleep, but Steve pressing more kisses to your neck and then your face fully woke you up. 

“You told me to make sure you wake up early, remember?” He mumbled against your ear before pressing another kiss to the side of your head.

“Mhm,” You muttered as you turned on your side, letting your sleepy eyes meet his. “I sadly do remember saying that.”

“Come on, we have a sunrise to go watch,” Steve told you, a small smile on his face. As usual, his smile did something to you and made you smile back at him even though all you really wanted to do was go back to sleep. “Which was completely your idea, by the way.”

“Sometimes my ideas aren’t the best,” You responded but finally got up anyway. 

Steve was already in a hoodie and sweatpants since it was unsurprisingly cold outside, and the same small smile was still on his face as he watched you pull on your own pair of old sweatpants and a random hoodie in a half-asleep daze. After you slipped on your shoes, he leaned down a bit in front of you and turned around so his back was toward you. “Hop on.”

“God, you’re the best,” You said as you wrapped yourself around him, arms circling his neck and legs circling his waist, and he lifted you up and led you out of your shared room.  

You almost told him to go toward the room Marissa and Robin were sleeping in and force them to come watch the sunrise with you two, but you kind of just wanted to have this moment solely with Steve. 

He let you down once he made it to the wooden bench that perfectly overlooked the lake and would let you both have a good view of the sunrise. It was still fairly dark outside, but you could see the beginning remnants of sunlight starting to take over the dark sky. 

When the two of you sat down you immediately maneuvered yourself so that your head was in Steve’s lap, which made your legs dangle a bit off the edge of the bench. 

“Back in Hawkins, there’s this place called Lover’s Lake. Being here slightly reminds me of that,” Steve said as his fingers started mindlessly playing with the drawstrings of your hoodie. “I should take you there soon.”

You playfully smiled up at him. “Ooh, I finally get to see your hometown? This relationship is getting quite serious.” 

He let out a small laugh as his eyes met yours. “Yes, and I’m planning to go ring shopping next week, actually.”

“Make sure you take Marissa with you,” You said jokingly but attempting to make your voice sound as serious as possible. “She’ll know which one you should get for me.” 

“Don’t worry, I already asked her to come.”

“Good,” You said, nodding at him. “Now back to this Lover’s Lake place. It sounds exactly like the kind of place where someone would take a date for a late night making out in a car kind of vibe.”

He was quiet for a bit until he mumbled, “No comment.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his sudden shyness and you grabbed his hand to intertwine it with yours and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. “You can talk about old girlfriends and dates or whatever, y’know. I’m not gonna get jealous or anything. The past is in the past. And I’ve heard plenty of stories from Robin, anyway.” 

“Why would I wanna talk about past girlfriends when I can think about the future?”

“I don’t think I wanna hear about your future girlfriends,” You joked, a small smirk on your face. 

He lightly poked your side, causing you to laugh loudly. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do,” You said with a shake of your head. Even though you actually knew exactly what he meant, you wanted to hear him say it.

“My future with you,” He responded, eyes meeting yours. 

“Oh,” You said as if it all finally clicked into place for you. “Can I hear more about that future?”

Steve smiled at that, more than happy to talk about the thoughts that almost always circled his mind. Thoughts you already knew because conversations like these would usually happen in a post-sex, pillow talk haze where he would ramble and you would listen and almost always reciprocate, playing into the fantasies he was cooking up and adding your own. 

It always felt easy to imagine something more with Steve, sometimes way too easy. Especially after the conversation with Dustin, you felt like you could fall even deeper into Steve and everything would be completely okay. More than okay, actually. 

“Well, there’s our house, of course,” He started and your eyes slipped shut as you imagined the picture he was painting of your future together. “Which can’t be too big, like the house I grew up in. But, it does need to be big enough for all of our five or six kids since we’re both a little insane and think that having that many is a good idea.”

His hand was still intertwined with yours and you gave it a light squeeze. “We need to have enough for a basketball team so that you can coach them.” 

“Makes sense,” Steve nodded, smiling at you. “Also, a big house means a big backyard for the dog too, which is great. She’ll have lots of room to play.”

Your eyes opened at that. “I thought we agreed on a cat?”

“I’m still heavily advocating for the dog.” “Okay, we can do both,” You told him. “I’m thinking a golden retriever and an orange tabby.”

He looked at you in a certain soft and sweet way that made you feel a little nervous and caused your stomach to swarm with butterflies.

“What?” You asked shyly, pulling your eyes from his and looking up at the orange hues that took over the sky. 

“I just love how we can talk about this kind of stuff, even though it’s only been six months,” He said. “And probably from that first night we met, I’ve been thinking about us and you and this future with you that is technically far away but also feels so close. And if I said that to any other girl, they’d probably be running for the hills by now.”

The vulnerability of his words sat with you and when you looked at him again, you couldn’t help but smile at how sincerely happy he looked right then. Even though you were completely comfortable in the position you were in with your head in his lap, you let go of his hand and sat up so you could kiss him. It was your nonverbal way of letting him know that you wouldn’t run away, and he must’ve heard you loud and clear because he only kissed you harder and pulled you impossibly closer to him.

“Those girls would be idiots if they did that,” You told him when you pulled back from the kiss and the two of you were still only a breath away from each other. Your eyes were closed as you said your next words. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to entertain the thought of having six fucking kids with. And it’s scary as hell but the good kind. Because, yes it hasn't even been a year yet, but I already know that I want that house with you and that backyard and that dog and cat. Because I love you. Like, a lot. Like, so much so that I feel like I wouldn’t be able to function properly for at least five years straight if I ever ruined things with us. And I’m kinda rambling a lot right now, but whatever.”

Steve’s lips found yours again and the abruptness of the action caused you to softly gasp into his mouth. He pulled you sideways into his lap and both of his hands cupped your face in such a tender way that you felt as if you could melt into him right then and there. Your fingers started lazily circling the drawstrings of his hoodie. 

“I think we’re definitely missing the sunrise,” You muttered against his lips but still didn’t fully pull away.

“It’ll happen again tomorrow,” Steve said simply and you completely agreed with that. 

His hands traveled downward to snake themselves underneath your hoodie and you sighed in contentment at the feeling of his fingers against the bare skin of your hips and then your waist. You wanted more, you needed more, but you couldn’t allow that “more” to happen on a wooden bench.

“We should go inside,” You told him, words more so coming out in a soft plea, and Steve nodded almost immediately at your request. You took one last look at the way the sun was reflecting so prettily off of the lake before he led you inside the house. 

With both of you fully clad in a hoodie and sweatpants, it felt as if there were a million layers separating you two from one another and you desperately needed that to change. Shoes came off first and were kicked somewhere by the door and then your hands grabbed at the ends of Steve’s hoodie, helping him pull it off and he did the same with yours. In between quick and chaste kisses, piece after piece of clothing item was littered on the floor of the living room and dining room until you made it to your shared room and you were only in your underwear and Steve was down to his boxers. 

His arms circled around you from behind when he closed and locked the door behind you both, and he started walking you toward the unmade bed before he turned you around and softly pushed you down against it.

He leaned over you, lips ghosting over yours before pulling back a bit and you couldn’t take the teasing so you pulled him roughly against you, his body weight crushing you in the best way possible and his warmth enveloping you completely. 

“I love you so much, baby,” He mumbled against your lips, and although that was something you knew, your heart still squeezed at hearing those words. 

“I love you too,” You told him as you started kissing all over his stubbly jaw. 

Your hips bucked upward at the feeling of his hardness pressed firmly between your thighs.

“I need you inside me. Please,” You told him as you moved your hips again and he groaned in your ear.  

He could only nod at your words as he maneuvered off of you a bit, pulling your underwear down and tossing it somewhere in the room and then spreading you for him. 

“So pretty,” He said, dragging a finger through your wetness, catching your clit for a brief moment before pulling away. 

“Steve…” Your moan came out in a soft sigh and your eyes fell shut. “Please.”

“Anything for you, baby.” His lips pecked yours before he finally slipped out of his boxers. 

When he finally entered you, filling you to the hilt in one slow motion, you both moaned in contentment. For a few moments, he stayed just like that, words getting lost in your hair as he said, “Just wanna feel you like this for a bit. You always take me so well, baby,” and you could only respond with a soft, barely coherent, “Mhm.”

You adored moments like these. The softness of it all, the slowness of it, how much love you could feel laced within every thrust when he started moving. Noses and lips brushed over each other haphazardly, panting breaths and moans not allowing your mouths to connect for more than a brief moment. Your eyes met his dark but loving gaze and you could feel your cunt flutter around his cock, which elicited a loud groan for him. 

One of his hands firmly found your hip, holding tightly so he could push into you harder. Your back arched and you nearly screamed at the new feeling of him hitting so deep inside of you. 

“Doing so well, baby,” Steve mumbled, lips finding your neck. He was still moving at his slow pace but hitting that perfect spot inside you with every harsh thrust. “Fuck. Taking everything I give you so fucking well.”

“Steve,” You breathed out, unable to say anything else. 

He kissed you roughly, tongue darting in to taste you for a brief moment before speaking. “I can tell you’re close. I can feel you fucking, ah, squeezing my cock.”

You nodded profusely, a small whimper falling from your lips. “Mm, so close, yeah.”

“Touch your clit for me, baby.”

You didn’t hesitate to listen to him and let one of your hands snake between your bodies and begin circling the small bundle of nerves. You immediately started seeing stars. 

He kissed you again, swallowing your loud moans. “Good girl.”

The soft praise made you clench around his cock again and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer as you continued the ministrations you were making on your clit. 

“‘M gonna come,” You muttered, moving your hand faster to match Steve’s quickening thrusts,  and you could feel the coil in your stomach tighten. 

“Do it, baby. Come all over my cock. I wanna feel it,” He told you, pulling back a bit so he could watch as you did so. Eyes screwed shut and legs shaking as your back arched and you let out a particularly loud moan. Steve continued fucking you through your orgasm. “So fucking pretty.”

Through your fucked out whimpers and soft pants, you reached out to pull him close to you again, and your mouth began sucking on a particularly sensitive spot under his jaw that you knew would send him tumbling over the edge with you. Which it did right as your tongue grazed over the skin. 

“Ah– ah, fuck,” Steve stuttered out as he came inside of you, and you moaned loudly at the feeling of his warm cum painting your walls. 

He lay on top of you for a few moments, both of you too spent and too lost in your post-orgasm hazes to do much more but let your shallow breaths take up the silence. When his breathing steadied, he slowly pulled out of you and pressed a quick kiss to your neck before padding to the bathroom that was connected to your bedroom to grab a damp washcloth to clean the mess between your thighs. 

He then got back in the bed, pulling the blanket over the two of you and circling his arm around your waist to bring you flush against him. 

You could feel yourself slowly falling asleep in his arms, and you were close to simply letting it happen, knowing that you both could probably use another hour or two, but then you were reminded of something.

“We need to get our clothes from out there or we’ll never hear the end of it from Marissa and Robin.”

“Mm, in five minutes. I just wanna lay here with you for a bit longer,” He told you, voice slightly muffled because his face was buried in your neck. 

“Okay,” You agreed since you felt way too comfortable to move anyway.

“You could never ruin things between us, by the way. You know that, right?”

You were slightly confused about where Steve’s words were coming from, but then you remembered that in the midst of your rambling outside on the bench, you had said that; that you had finally verbalized those worries that had plagued you but now felt so unimportant.

You nodded at his question. “I know.”

“Good,” He said as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Because you could hit me with your car and I’d still be so fucking in love with you.” 

You softly laughed at that and shifted around so that you were facing him. “Am I allowed to test that out?”

“I’d rather not, but if that’s what it takes,” He answered, a smile on his face as one hand reached up to stroke your cheek.

“It’s okay, I believe you,” You said, turning your head a bit so that you could press a soft kiss to his palm. 

You both simply stared at each other for a bit, letting a silent conversation play out where you told him through your smile how grateful you were for him because you’d never known anyone like him; someone genuinely sweet and kind and effortlessly funny and who could always, always match your energy just right. And Steve acknowledged your silent honesty and showed how amazed he was to have you in his life as well by slotting his lips against yours. You two lazily kissed one another until you fell asleep with your limbs tangled up and the discarded clothes out in the living room long forgotten.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

[bluewatersfairy]

daydreamin' - j.t.

a/n: I started writing this at the beginning of the '22-'23 season and have been meaning to do something with it for literally 2 years. Hope you enjoy lmao!

synopsis: reader gets a little too lost in her head whilst on set with Jayson

warnings: mature content, MINORS DNI! small mentions of oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, exhibitionist kink mentioned/depicted, slight degrading/name calling (literally once if you squint), filth but like in a fun way.

word count: 5.3k (imagine if i could just shut the fuck up)

•••

Time felt slowed and your eyelids were droopy, despite the clock behind you reading 11am.  An early call time mixed with a red-eye meant that there wasn’t much time to rest horizontally, or at all.  Some things were worth the sacrifice for though.  He was most definitely one of those things.

When the story first landed on your desk, you almost couldn’t believe it.  The Celtics had been playing on your television for as long as you could remember.  You’d grown up watching every draft and noting down each new player that joined the roster.  You were always in to support the new up-and-comers as a child and in your professional life.  

You’d written and pitched a few stories about the young core over recent years but nothing had ever been picked up for a full length piece.  The best you got was a short piece for one special edition that highlighted the great women that stood behind the biggest sportsmen in sports today.  The NBA section was one of the smallest word counts you’d been given, but you did the best you could.

A full length piece like this being handed to you, a cover story no less, made little sense to you.  You weren’t going to turn it down, but it took you a few minutes to process what was being asked of you.  Truthfully, it hadn’t properly sunk in until you were on the plane, flying cross-country for a 48-hour stay.  A full cover story on someone with all eyes on him meant that it was going to be the biggest opportunity of your career.  Not only was it a big deal for him, it was for you too.  You were not going to let yourself waste it by getting lost in him. 

Even as the sirens wailed, trying to pull you back to reality, your eyes couldn’t pull away from Jayson.  Like magnets, his hands forced you to scan over his chest with his next pose.  The fake sweat that had been sprayed over him caught the light as the photographer wanted and your heart almost stopped.  You didn’t understand why this story meant he had to pose for thirst-trap-like pictures in his Celtic uniform.  Did the universe have something against you?

Someone called your name from behind you and snapped you out of your daydream.  They were clearly impatient, the sound of a clicking pen matching with the click of dress shoes on concrete floors.  With your attention turned back to the little prep work you had left to complete, you did a final once over of the questions you’d prepared for Jayson.  His agent was watching every move you made and when you finally handed them the sheet, they marched off calling a hurried ‘thank you’ to you.  

You took a deep breath for the 100th time and looked over your recorder again.  Full battery?  Yes.  Storage status?  Completely empty.  Vocal tests?  All three completed.  It was fine, perfect even; ready to go whenever Jayson was.  Your anxiety, however, was making it difficult for you to be ready.  In a quiet tone, you started to count to ten, reaching for a cracker as you did.  You needed to nibble on something that wouldn’t come straight back up.  Looking at your hand holding the cracker, you noticed just how obviously your now jumpy nature was.  Your nerves were starting to present to others; this is not good, you thought to yourself, just fake it, smile and push through.  You needed water, a lot of it.  Was your throat always this dry?

“They want me to wear a tie,” Jayson’s voice cut through your thoughts, forcing you to turn around a little too quickly.  His deep and raspy tone had caught you off guard.  Your body’s immediate response was to send spirals to the pit of your stomach and float to your chest with impeccable speed.

“If you’d rather not, I don’t think it’s necessary?”  you replied, your uncertainty and want to please him clear as day. 

“Nah,” he shook his head and flashed his charming smile at you, “they’ve got a vision, I’ll stick to it.”

He had changed into his formal look for the shoot.  It was a classic black Dior suit with a white button up.  It was tailored to his figure beautifully and gave him a really classically handsome look.  It was the lining of the suit jacket that made it special as well as the socks he wore.  Custom-made with embellishments of his home city and his mother and sons’ names stitched over his heart.  He looked incredibly dapper and handsome, clean and perfect.  

You swallowed and let your eyes fall to his hands as he showed you the three ties he’d been given.  They were all quite simple and classic, but you were immediately drawn to the Dior silk black ribbon tie with a bee embellishment

“Which one do you think?” Jayson held all three of them up to his chest and posed for you.  He let out something of a chuckle, his eyes focusing on you as he scrunched his nose.  He was absolutely adorable, and he was starting to make you melt.

You gently tapped on the tie you thought was best and expected him to step away and give you a second to breathe.  Instead, he reached behind you to put the unchosen ties down before putting the one you had selected over his shoulder. 

“Here,” Jayson said, starting to tweak his collar, “could you, y’know?”

You nodded your head quickly and took the tie from him, your fingertips lingering against his warm skin for a second too long.

“They’ve got a stool here somewhere,” you said more to yourself than him as your eyes scanned the room.  You spotted it and brought it over to him, hoping it would help close the height difference.

Jayson’s gaze stayed on your face from the moment you lifted the tie from his hand until the moment you stepped off of the stool.  It was intense.  It didn’t help the way he smirked when you fiddled with the tie.  Or the way he tugged on his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing.  You almost told him to stop, not that you were actually sure what it was that you wanted him to stop doing.  If anything, you were the one that needed to stop. 

It took almost every part of you to stop the image of you wrapping the tie around his wrists instead of the collar of his dress shirt.  Like dominos, the scene that unfolded couldn’t be stopped, so you’d just have to push it down and ignore it.

Ignore the way he’d look, completely naked with his wingspan stretched out to either side of your bed.  The cool black silk ties secured his big hands against the wooden headboard.  He didn’t struggle against the ties, all he did was wriggle his wrists to see how much he could do.  It wasn’t a lot, he could tell this wasn’t your first time. 

His head turned away from his wrists to find you standing at the foot of the bed, only in an emerald green two-piece lingerie set.  It complimented your deep brown skin devilishly well, Jayson couldn’t look away.  He let out a deep, throaty groan as he watched you slip your thumbs under the hem of your panties and began to pull them down your hips.

“You’re so good to me,” he part moaned, “look at you baby, I can’t say nothin’.”

His entire body flexed as you knelt on the bed only in your bra.  You licked your lips and watched his girthy cock move with the rest of his muscles.  You were so tempted to crawl up his body, and stop with your mouth hovering dangerously close to his dick.  Teasingly, you’d kiss the tip and gently caress the shaft.  Your mouth watered at the thought.  You knew yourself well enough that you wouldn’t stop with a little teasing.  You’d end up taking the whole thing in your mouth, making a mess of your lipstick and your mascara as your eyes watered.  

To compromise, when your mouth hovered over his cock, you gripped the shaft with your left hand.  Jayson’s response was similar to one of pain or a burn – a gasp of surprise that expressed both pleasure and discomfort.  It made you giggle and you wondered if he had ever been like this with anyone else.  

“Fuck,” he dragged out as he watched your spit fall from your plump lips to his tip.  

You rubbed your thumb over the head and dragged the saliva down his shaft, pumping him so you could hear him sing out in pleasure.  He threw his head back and looked up for the first time that night.  He was met with the surprise of a lifetime.  You had had a mirror on the ceiling installed, and he now had two of the best views possible. 

“You could be a professional,” Jayson said as he looked over himself in the mirror.  “I’ve never been able to get my ties just right.”

“I’ll add that to my resume,” you smiled at him and carefully stepped down from the stool.  “Great sports journalist, even better tie-tyer.”

“You could pimp yourself out to fashion houses and modelling agencies,” he laughed, “you’d get an inside scope of what goes on behind the scenes as well.”

“That’s not half bad, actually.”  You shared a moment of laughter, and another of silence and gazing at each other before you were brought back to the real world by the photographer.  

Jayson went back to posing, though now it was less structured.  They were getting shots of him smiling and showing off the inside lining of his jacket, as well as a few of him holding his shoes.  You took a seat and let yourself go over your notes, though you were still distracted by him.  You weren’t sure if it was that he was a natural in front of the camera or simply that he was very handsome, but every time you looked up, he looked beyond good.  You were constantly reminded of just how fine he was and it was so overwhelming.  

He oozed that type of physical attraction that you felt deep in your uterus.  Your whole body just wanted him everywhere and there wasn’t much to stop it.  His quiet manner was no help either.  As a journalist, you were always digging for a bigger story and you wanted to just get into his mind and learn as much about him as possible.  He was easy to talk to, and you found that a connection between the interviewer and interviewee was what made a great piece.  

You needed this to be the best story of your career, an opportunity like this had the possibility of elevating your life and opening countless doors.  Hopefully, you’d finally get that job offer that would bring you to the east coast, the one you’d been looking for for close to a year.  

Your name being called from across the room pulls your gaze away from Jayson and you began to make your way over to what looked to be a team meeting.  There wasn’t much for you to say or do, except listen and nod when appropriate.  Jayson’s team was taking the lead of a majority of this shoot as he had a few other things he had to fit into his day.  You knew going in that the interview portion would come at the end, that you were really only there to get a feel of the vibe and find your footing with him.  

“I’ve gone over your questions,” Jayson’s agent turned to face you, “they’re good, nothing I can tell he won’t answer.  He seems to like you as well so he should give you more than you need for this to be an excellent cover story.” 

You nodded your head, agreeing, to show you were listening and noticed their gaze had gone back to Jayson.  When you turned to follow it, you found Jayson was looking directly at you.  He wasn’t being subtle about it either.  When your eyes found his, he smiled his stunning smile and the camera flashed.

“I might need you to cover him more often if you can get him to smile like that,” his agent commented, “he’s like a child sometimes when he smiles for the camera.”  Without another word, they’d walked away and you were standing alone again.  

You could sense that things were starting to move a bit quicker.  His team seemed to be prepping more and you caught bits and pieces of the requests and questions being thrown around amongst them.  Someone was sent off to get coffee, someone else was sent outside to make sure the balcony was accessible, comfortable and private.  You had assumed you would interview Jayson inside but it seemed everyone else had a different idea in mind.  

It was Jayson who approached you first to invite you out there to get started.  In your past experiences of interviewing professional and famous athletes, this wasn’t a norm.  Usually you were sent to the preferred interview spot to wait for the interviewee and they certainly weren’t the people to direct you there either.  But this was Jayson.  This is the narrative he’d created for himself, a polite, respectable young man.  

He walked two steps behind you, now in a pair of grey sweats and a black Jaylen Brown graphic tee.  He was more relaxed now and in turn, you felt a little more at ease.  If he was still in his Dior suit, it would’ve been a different story, you would’ve felt under-dressed in your business-casual outfit.  

“It’s beautiful out here,” Jayson said as you both stepped out, his hand reaching to the small of your back to guide you around the table and chairs to see the view properly.

“It is,” you breathed out as you placed your hands on the balcony rail.  You felt like you could see forever from right there, like you were at the top of the world.

“It’s so much better at night, when all the city lights are on.  You really feel like you’re on top of the world,” he paused as he placed his hand next to yours, “it’s romantic too.  All the lights in the dark, you’re just a world away from everyone else.  No one can see or hear you up here, it’s comfortable.”  you watched closely as his hand moved to rest on top of yours. 

You tried to imagine it, what it would feel like to be this far removed from everyone, just you and him.  The small of your back seemed to burn as you tried to remember what it felt like to have his hand there.  What would it feel like if there was no material in the way, and he was pushing you forward, making your back arch?

Pitch black surrounding you and just the sparkling lights of the city far below you.  You can barely hear the cars driving by, just the soft breeze brushing past your ears and the melodic rhythm and harmonious sounds of your grunts and moans mixing together.  You’d felt far too exposed when Jayson had first started to undress you but his mouth had quickly erased all your worries and insecurities from your mind.  He covered you in kisses before he reached your core.  He’d turned you around so fast, you’d barely had a moment to catch yourself on the balcony before he’d buried his face in your pussy, his tongue lapping at your folds and only breaking to nip at your inner thighs and round ass. 

The second you’d got him naked after he’d chivalrously made you cum twice, his body was immediately pushed up against yours.  Your hands were hot on his body, grabbing at his waist and hips while your lips fought against his own.

“You’re eager,” he teased as he broke away from your lips, grinning as he dropped his head to your clavicle, “‘bit of a change from before.”

“I think it’s more than you’re an exhibitionist and I think logically about how sex with us works.”  Jayson stood up straight at your rebuttal so he could look down at you properly. 

“Exhibitionists like to be seen and heard, look around princess,” he smirked as he spun you back so your ass was pressed to his front again, “no one can see or hear us up here.”

Jayson, truthfully, was exhilarated by the freedom that came with fucking outside and it became very obvious to you, very quickly.  He was louder than usual, but he was making you that much louder too.  His voice was rough as he told you to let him hear you, telling you to say his name louder and louder.  He wanted you to praise him unashamed and let everyone know exactly who was making you cum at that very moment.  

He also wanted someone to see how good you were for him, he was basically begging to see a flash in a window somewhere.  Jayson Tatum and his beautiful mystery whore, oh he could see it in white writing as he pulled out and sprayed his load on your back.  

“Do you want a napkin?”  Jayson asked as he got comfortable in the chair across from you.  

One of the people from his team had brought out their coffees and had given Jayson a handful of napkins.  You made a note in your mind that it was likely because he asks for extra when he had his son with him and it was just what his team did without thinking.  

You smiled and took one from him before crossing your legs and letting yourself relax into the chair a bit.  You mumbled a thanks as you slipped it under your tablet that was resting on your lap.  

You pressed the green button on your voice recorder and placed it on the table in front of you before asking Jayson if he was ready.  He nodded his head eagerly and rubbed his hands together.

“Where would you like to start?”  you smiled across at him and he returned the smile.

“In the middle, like all the good stories.” 

That was what you wanted to hear and you glanced at your notes, not that you needed to.  You knew exactly where you were going to start.

“In your relatively short career thus far, you’ve managed to accomplish many things other players spend their entire lives trying to reach, and many retire without touching the surface.  You’ve got gold medals, a signature shoe, multiple all-NBA placings and now a world championship, and that’s within the world of basketball.  If we stepped out, we could list so many more business endeavours.  We know you idolised Kobe and his own off-season adventures and his life outside the league went far beyond basketball.  What I want to know is what you want your future off-seasons to look like?  Do you have a desire to pursue something creative?”  

It was a long-winded question, but asking it made Jayson light up, this seemed to spark something that he was eager to share.  Starting in the middle was always the best when you had a good vibe with an interviewee.  You’d managed to create an emotional bond of sorts with Jayson already so you didn’t have to do the relationship-building-questions.  You could just ask something incredibly personal and trust that you would be given something you can easily build off of.  And that was exactly what Jayson gave you.

He begun by explaining that in the last two-years or so, he’d grown an interest in art and had started something of a collection.  “It’s not necessarily something to brag about compared to some of the collections I’ve been exposed to in the art-world, but it’s a start and I’m really proud of it.”

He was inspired too, he continued to explain.  He loved the portraits and landscapes he’d been exposed to and the realism of it all, but he was a story-lover above all things and it’s those type of paintings that draw him in.  

“You don’t always know straight away what you’re looking at, but when you read or hear the title of the painting, or a brief explanation about it, you start to see the painting as the story it is.”

“Would you ever consider picking up a brush and trying something yourself?”

“I think about it all the time,” he admitted with a tilt of his head, “but I wouldn’t want it to be for anyone but me, y’know?  Like them sex portraits and intimate art pieces that are created out of lust and love.  

“I’m lucky ‘cause my job is my passion, right?  I go to work and I train really hard and play even harder and while basketball is a creative process, it’s set in its ways.  I’m so attracted to the idea of doing something that’s physically and mentally freeing and I think that’s why I’m kinda obsessed with those types of paintings and why I wanna make them myself.”

He paused for a second, his eyes pulling away from yours for the first time since he’d started talking about it.  “Maybe,” he adds quickly, “I maybe want to make them myself.”  He laughed lightly and shook his head a little, definitely questioning a little bit why he’d said so much.

But it was good, it was what you wanted to hear from him.  It humanised him, showed more of his personality that he was so protective of.  It was an easy spot for you to jump from as well, you had a million things that you could ask from here and you sure as hell were gonna ask them.  You just had to avoid anything to do with sex and lust, because that was where you’d been stuck for the better half of the last 3 hours since you’d arrived at this shoot.

It was not helping you at all either, that Jayson was manspreading in his seat and you could definitely see his dickprint in his grey sweats.  It was unprofessional, of course, but you could not stop looking at it every few minutes.  And while he was talking about a sex portrait, you could’ve sworn you’d seen it react.  God help your mind and where it was running off to in that moment.

A locked door and a series of paints could be spread all around him and he could be instructing you what to do.  Promising you everything was safe and it was just an idea he had, and a massive canvas he’d found a little too easily.  

Or maybe it would start more innocently.  He’d wanted to try a live-model art class but it felt a little wrong for him, as a well known face and figure around Boston, to show up to a class to draw a naked woman.  So instead, he’d ask you to.  Sketching would turn to painting, or him trying to do something abstract.

“Can I see it?” you’d crossed your arm over your chest, holding your large breasts from spilling out as you walked to stand beside him.  He had this look of amusement on his face that you quickly shared.

What he’d painted and sketched maybe looked somewhat like you, if you focused on your body shape, but everything else was unclear.  You bit back a laugh and tried to wait for Jayson to say something regarding what he’d done.  

“I don’t think painting is my God given talent,” he mumbled quietly and before you could stop yourself, you started laughing.  Jayson turned to look at you and watched for a moment, before he very smoothly flicked paint over your arms and chest.  

“I didn’t say anything!” You squealed as he managed to throw a small amount of paint on you again.  There was this look on his face now that seemed so joyous yet dangerous, like he was plotting something that was no good.  

Your suspicious were confirmed when he started to pull off his own clothes and you realised that he was evening the playing field – this was now war.  Like teenagers, the two of you started running around the room throwing paint at one another and laughing with the highest amounts of joy you’d experienced in so long.  It was freeing and peaceful.  The type of thing, you realised, love songs and stories were made of.  

“God, I love you,” Jayson confessed as he grabbed you around the waist, his chest covered in the red and yellow paint that covered your hands, and you covered in the blue and green that covered his.  

“I love you,” you replied with a massive grin, your arms wrapping around him and you pressed your lips to his.  

“I have an idea,” Jayson smiled as rubbed your core over his dick.

“Are you ever not horny?” you asked, feeling just how much he’d started to feel in a very short amount of time.

“‘Could ask you the same thing?” he smirked before raising his eyebrows at you.  

It was the easiest transition from him holding you to the two of you on the floor, on top of a massive canvas he’d had laying there for the past few days.  You’re on top of him, hands pressed against the canvas as he switched between gripping your hips and your tits, while you rode his cock like a pro.  Your head was thrown back, the lube he’d drenched on his cock before you climbed on made everything feel so much better.  

“Roll your hips just like that baby,” he encouraged you with dark eyes, “you know how to do me right.”

You keep going on top of him until he tells you to stop.  You climbed off him and watched as he hit his cock roughly.  He didn’t want to cum yet, he wanted to do more, you could see it in his face.  You carefully lent forward, your hands leaving prints on the canvas and you gently kissed his lips.

“You okay?” he asked softly as he slipped his hand down your back.

“I’m okay, baby,” you smiled, “I’m just checking if you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” he echoed and kissed you again, “I have an idea though.”

He sat up as he spoke and moved to be behind you.  He kissed your shoulders and your neck and moved you gently, but with a certain sense of control that made you that much hotter.  You on all fours had given him this idea of your body’s print on the canvas.  Your tits were covered in paint, as was the rest of your torso, it would be a sight to see.  One he needed to see.

He pushed your chest down and guided your ass up leaving your pretty pussy on full display for him.  He let a stream of spit drip onto your throbbing hole and pressed his thumb against it, rubbing and teasing you and making you moan loudly.  You pushed your hips back and wiggled your ass, trying to get him to slip inside you again.

“I want you face down and ass up till I fill that pussy up,” he ordered, his hand pushing you down even more so you were pressed fully into the canvas.

“Whatever you want Jay, just fuck me.”

When he slipped into you again, he filled you to the hilt and did nothing to hold himself back.  He fucked you into the canvas and watched with a devilish grin as you spread your hands out to try and grip on to something.  It left pretty marks over the canvas and made him think more and more about how your tit print is gonna look.

“Your tits are gonna look so good on here baby,” he moaned before smacking your ass, “almost as good as you fucking feel right now, oh fuck.”

You turned your head to the side and let your moans sing along with his.  He was so turned on that it was driving you crazy, you didn’t even know what it was but you needed it to happen more.

“Are you gonna cum?”

“Say that again?” you asked as you lowered your coffee mug from your lips, your cheeks red.

“Are you gonna come?” Jayson asked again, “to the ring ceremony?  I know you’ve covered me and Jaylen before, so it would make sense if they fly you out for it.”

You smiled and nodded your head, “I hope they do.  I’ll let them know you asked, might give them the push to do it.”  

“You can give them my number if you want, they can call and I’ll let them know that I personally want you there.”  He winked at you and made you blush yet again.  

You only had a few more questions left, you’d gotten a lot of content from Jayson in the past 30 minutes, you were really grateful for it.  You knew it would read well too and would most likely give you more opportunities for future cover stories.  You knew you could write this well.  You were determined to as well, not just for yourself but for Jayson too.  

You had one final question to ask and it made you smile, this was all very full circle considering you started with a middle-type question.

“Lastly, how are you?  How does it feel to be doing a cover story?”

He chuckled a little and rubbed his temple, “no matter how many I do, I always love doing them.  I forget how good it feels to be in front of the camera, honestly.  I feel real important and I really enjoy being the centre of attention.”  

You giggled a little at this comment and it makes him smile even more, “I really enjoyed talking to you too, I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“Hopefully when I’m in for the ring ceremony,” you replied and you both share a short laugh before you’re thanking him and officially ending your audio recording.

Wrapping things up is a much quicker process than getting everything set up.  Before you know it, you’ve shaken everyone on his team's hands and thanked them for having you.  The photographers have told you they’ll be in contact within the next few days and just like that you’re standing in the elevator and the doors are almost closed.

Almost closed before someone stuck their hand in and forced the doors open again.

“Sorry,” Jayson said and slid in quickly, and pushed the closed door button.  He moved to stand beside you and together, you watched the doors closed.

“I’ve been waiting to do this all day,” Jayson mumbled as he cupped your face in his hand and kissed you.  You welcomed his embrace and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Hey baby,” you cooed, looking up at him.

“How long are you here for?” he asked, his hand not so subtly grabbing at your behind, “I’m not leaving your side for the rest of it.”

“30 hours,” you went on your tiptoes quickly and kissed the base of his neck, “I have a couple things I want to do.”

“Mm,” he hummed at the feeling of your lips still on his neck, “I’m so proud of you, this is such a big opportunity and you crushed all that shit.  Everyone was saying they’re so impressed with you.”  

“Do you wanna show me how proud you are?” you asked looking up at him, finally feeling like you can let out everything you’ve been feeling and thinking about.

“Oh,” Jayson said as he realised, “okay then, we gotta go.”

[takes1]

p.3 himbo!kirishima x petite!reader (gymbros series: rest day)

featuring aged up!kiri with growth spurt and long hair. i've actually had this in the drafts for a couple years, it's just that i didn't write an exposition and got straight to the point lmao. next part is on the way

warnings. nsfw, nearly f! oral, grinding, biting, mentions of mathematics

details. nsfw / gymbros with benefits/ aged up!kiri / fem!reader / mentions of f! masturbation / almost facesitting / mutual size kink / shy reader / support course student!reader / scars thirst / sharp teeth thirst / bakugou doesn't knock / 4.5k words

🤍 scenario series. part one / part two / kiri headcanons

more links. my ao3

The next few workouts grew increasingly more distracting and less efficient. Kirishima made it a point to talk more, get closer to you when not always necessary, and encourage you in ways he wouldn't use with other people who came to join.

You had moved to working out with varying amounts of Hero Course students that he introduced as his friends, too, all eager to meet you, in the Hero-specific gym.

This night wasn't the first time you visited his dorm room. The first was about five days prior when he invited you up to take a shower in his room.

Nothing 'happened,' but the whole experience was enough to fuel your fantasies for a few nights and make it evident that he wanted you, very badly and under any tangible excuse, in his bedroom.

It was Thursday night, and you had next to nothing else to do, so when he called, you picked up after a few rings and a deep breath.

(Y/n)!

He sounded so happy to say your name.

"Eijiro!" You smiled, not quite as excitable, but you did your best.

You busy tonight?

He laughed just off of the microphone, and you heard some other voices. He told one of them to shush, and another to go away. Your brow furrowed. It was one thing if he wanted you to come over, but another if you were hanging out with his friends.

Hello?

"Depends," You trailed, fingers fidgeting with your pajamas.

Iiiii was just wonderin' if you'd come hang for a while. No workout or anything.

His voice was a little sing-songy. It was extremely cute. While you were trying to rub the smile off of your face, he continued.

Just us.

"Yea-h," You answered, breathless.

It took a while to get ready to your liking after he let you off the phone. Thankfully, you showered earlier, so in the time it took to get dressed and out the door, he called again to ask if he needed to come get you.

You told him that wouldn't be necessary, as flattering as it was, and it took another minute to get him to hang up.

The Support Course housing wasn't too far away from his, you knew the way, and it was certainly not a dangerous walk, but when you turned the only corner of the walk, a familiar heavy-footed redhead was there to take you the remainder of the way.

"I should've walked with you the whole way!" He insisted when you told him his chivalry was appreciated, but not needed.

Surely he had safety as a primary concern. His Hero-centered brain was certain something might happen on the ten-minute walk over.

It was an animated walk to the dorms with this chatterbox next to you, but nothing compared to the chaos inside. Most students were gathered in the common area, loud and boisterous, all confirming your anxieties.

Kirishima picked up on this and kept a hand on your shoulder as you both passed, mostly unnoticed, through the busiest area near the entryway.

When the door closed, and the moment of relief was gone, you were a bit unsure of yourself. His company in public, or the gym, was one thing, but completely alone, behind a door?

You texted a friend where you were just in case.

But upon further inspection, he had prepared a silly movie and some snacks for you. His beanbag was what you were most excited about, but you kept it cool and only sat down at the soonest opportunity it could look natural. He took a seat on a small mat next to it and leaned on the bag. He was too big to share it with you but still wanted to be close.

The movie was menial compared to how much you both talked through it.

You got on the topic of perception and types, attractiveness, and the like. He had a difficult time understanding how you found him pretty and manly.

"What?" He laughed; he'd never been called that before. He liked it, but prompted you to explain.

He twisted his body to meet yours, already close on the floor right next to you.

"Well, you know-- you know," You tried to express, hand darting back to your side after leaving its resting place on his massive shoulder.

It was so much harder to compliment him when he wouldn't just take it. You sunk lower into the beanbag.

Part of him knew, you could hear it in the clip at the end of his sentences, a subtle request for you to keep making a fool of yourself.

"I don't think I do," He nabbed one of your wrists, his smile spreading when he found a similar one on your face and placed it back on his shoulder.

His eyes were eating you up, the inside of his own cheek offered as tribute in order to satiate his nerves.

"Well," You pushed a curious thumb into his ample flesh and tried to control a quick sigh, "You're... attractive."

"Attractive?" Kirishima repeated, amused and intrigued by your slow admission.

Quicker, a little panicked, you tried to rationalize it out loud, "Yeah, my friends think you are-- you're conventionally attractive, like it's not a secret or anything, everyone thinks you're hot."

An unsure hand slid, pressing here and there, over his squishy, thick bicep. You could barely fit your fingers all the way around it. There were an array of stretch marks, dark to light, all over his arms, chest, and on his tummy.

Maybe mentioning your friends was a wrong move, because now it sounded like you had gushed about him and showed pictures of him-- something you totally did do, but he didn't need to know that.

In your quick explanation, you couldn't keep quiet because you didn't want to hear his reply yet, so you just kept going, "A tall guy with huge muscles, and-- a big smile, with good hugs, who's really sweet, and considerate, and is open-minded and asks questions. I mean, who wouldn't like you?"

You had to suck in a breath, and in doing so, realized everything you said just as he did.

"Well, you make a pretty solid case," He laughed. He was blushing-- blushing, and had to look away from you.

This wasn't your first rodeo with a big guy, but it was certainly the most exciting. There was something about his soft, silly demeanor that held a chokehold on your heart.

He stood up and offered a hand to take you with him. But he pulled a tad too hard and you stumbled against him. He smiled, bashful still.

"What-uh, what else do you like?"

Your head was spinning. Maybe he wasn't so confident? Was that it? You were usually the one to break eye contact, but your clumsy, stupid words seemed to unlock the key to a shy side.

"U-hm," Eyes and fingers flitted up to his chest, then his broad shoulders, "I like... how strong you are."

Big hands squeezed around your waist, setting off a flurry of butterflies, and kept you plastered across his front, instead of your attempted distance.

"'Shouldn't tell me that," He muttered, fingers locked around each other on the curve of your spine.

You wanted to feel everything while you could-- you directed your touch to the back of his neck, and reached up as far as you could go with a face of focused concentration. Your voice was quiet, far away.

"Why not? It's true."

The grip pulling on you shifted and in seconds, he muscled you up by the ass to sit on his hips-- your thighs squeezed him but didn't need to when his grip was forcing you so hard against his cock.

He made a toothy grin at your shifting around, frantic grabbing, and looking down at the distant floor, "Gotta stay humble, man."

"Shut up," You couldn't look at his blacked-out pupils, so you opted for his mouth instead.

There were little scars all over his bottom lip, and when you started to glance around his handsome face, you realized there were many more.

You adjusted your hands around the back of his neck and, in the process of studying him, found a bigger one.

"Your eye," You took a thumb to his brow, concerned despite his small chuckle.

He closed his eyes to let you check out the shape, and you noticed he had a crooked nose. It looked like he'd broken it a few times, actually.

"That's from forever ago-- just my own shitty Quirk--,"

"Your Quirk isn't shitty." You stated, surprised a Hero Course student would bash on their own Quirk so casually.

His Quirk was, honestly, pretty cool. You wished you could do half of the things he could, and you were sure countless other students in his class felt the same way.

You rolled your hips up to lock your legs, "I like your Quirk."

He was so hot and firm, it was distracting-- you immediately needed to know if it would fit. A breathy laugh pushed past his lips and he looked down, away from you, with an identical thought.

Your lips were barely an inch apart when he looked back up, conflicted and bothered in many ways.

"I really like when you do that," He muttered, focused entirely on your glossy bottom lip.

You did a lot of things but boiled it down to either the grinding or the compliment.

"I...really like you, too--"

For some reason, his trailing off sounded like he was about to say 'but,' which didn't make any sense. You started to frown. You thought all the feelings were pretty uncomplicated, here.

"--But I wanted to take you to dinner, first."

A smile that was so big it hurt stretched across your face. That was the cutest, hottest thing you ever heard.

Your palm flattened against the side of his head and he followed your gentle lead, like a puppy on a leash, just happy to be there. Happy to please.

You considered it, only because he looked genuinely apologetic.

But he adjusted you a little on his hips, and his fingers were edging onto your bare skin, and you lost your train of thought.

"We can worry about dinner tomorrow,"  A mumbled solution was quickly swallowed by his hungry mouth-- you quickly learned that he was a messy kisser, but didn't have the energy to care.

Strawberry lipgloss smeared to oblivion, he left you breathless and pained when he pulled away to sit down and enjoy your flawless neck.

His lengthy time there, hands clawing the plush of your ass, forced you to sit still and pretty on top of his confined cock.

You pushed your forehead onto his oversized shoulder, panting already at the restraint and realization that you'd have to go out in public with huge splotches of purple and green all over your neck.

He sunk his teeth into you and closed his jaw, leaving deep, puffy lines in your skin-- you squirmed away with a shaky sound, but were only met with a forearm barring you in by the lower back.

"If you don't like it rough, you can always tell me to stop," He reminded you, playful and a little condescending.

If he was going to be filthy, you wanted to return the energy.

"Mm-mm," While he was more maneuverable, you took the opportunity to press another deep, needy kiss on his big, scarred lips, "Put those teeth to good use."

Kirishima almost shied away from your sugar-sweet tone, your sudden confidence in the face of words that he had to craft very carefully. His saving grace was your subtle confirmation.

"I knew you had a thing for my teeth," He stole a few more giggly kisses and was sure to carefully take your bottom lip.

It was technically a lie-- he didn't come up with that theory on his own. Sero had to bring it up with him after he noticed your fixation.

"I've got a thing for you," You admitted.

Your hands explored his broad back, trying to fight your squirming as he switched sides and started high on the other side of your neck. His excited chuckles buzzing against your heated skin were not making it easy.

His long hair kept getting in your face. Instead of blowing the locks away, you tracked your fingers up through the back and tugged it away, but it elicited an almost automatic motion in his hips, up into you.

You laughed at his failed grab up at your fist and, with the same mocking tone he used with you, chirped, "If you don't like it rough..."

"God, you're funny too--," Kirishima sighed and pulled your shirt over your head before you could object.

"Oh."

He must not have realized your common choice to go braless beforehand, because your blank torso left a funny, flushed look on his face.

It was hard to tell, though, and your immediate understanding of his surprise demanded an apology and crossed arms with an uncomfortable chuckle, "Sorry-- I think you've got me beat in cup size."

"No-nono, they're great, fantastic, amazing," He pulled on your arms and explained so quick you had to read his lips to understand him, "I didn't mean to- I'm just-- happy I don't have to struggle with a clip."

You had to wonder how many girls he'd been with, what his expectations were, because he clearly had some experience.

As he hoisted you up, light as a feather to him, to put you on your back, you wondered if he was good. If he'd be patient with the best and worst parts.

The mattress groaned beneath his weight as he wasted no time to shift over your pretty, raised chest. When he put a fraction of his body on you, you almost gave the same reaction.

His lips and tongue on your sensitive bud almost convinced you to not ask, but your body was screaming for him to get off.

"How much do you weigh?"

You raked your fingernails through his scalp with a labored inhale and felt him smile.

"290[131 kg], around there." He kissed the bitemark he left on your breastbone and switched sides.

Half of the time, you couldn't fathom how massive he was in comparison to you, so you didn't try. But now, with practically nothing else to do than compare, it was mindblowing.

If he wasn't careful, he might risk seriously injuring you. Rough, for his size and strength, might actually be dangerous. You cringed at how unsexy it sounded to suffer a torn muscle or a broken bone because you didn't know each other's limits.

"Still not where I want to be," His canine almost clipped you as he spoke, forcing you to flinch, "Trying to get to 300."

Your thighs squeezed around his torso, shamefully turned on by the risk. He made a grumbly, understanding groan on your breast with a dose of intense eye contact.

"You like big guys, huh?"

You huffed and pushed on his enormous shoulders, "Obviously."

Another kiss to the center of your chest gave way to lower and lower toothy, ruttish kisses. He loved the way you fueled his ego by acknowledging his size.

"Can I--," You sighed, not wanting to be picky, but concerned for your pussy with his combined leverage and clumsy habits in this position, "Can I sit on your face--?"

"Yes."

That was a lot easier than you anticipated. He quickly wrapped his arms around you, determined to not let you move without his manual aid, and fell onto his back.

He was very pretty under you.

Hair splayed out, at least before he started to tie it up, his impressive body all exposed for you to admire and touch, his eyes glued to only you.

You didn't want to part from the print in his sweatpants, perfectly content grinding on it instead, but he hooked his hands beneath your thighs and pulled you up.

As disappointed as you were to part, you knew you needed this so it'd fit easier.

It took a moment to find the tiny zipper of your skirt, but when you did, Kirishima moved your hands away and did it himself, grinning at your cute frown.

"You gotta get used to me doing things for you, baby," He dropped them off of the side of the bed.

"Baby?"  You repeated to yourself, more focused on the name and insinuation that he wanted to do this regularly than his head between your thighs.

He brought you out of your spinning head with a long, slow kiss to your thigh, longer and slower than he originally intended, because now he wanted to mark all of you up.

Another bite reminded you--

"Be careful with your teeth- please."

The chewing on your other leg paused, and he chuckled against it, "Of course."

A slow, gentle kiss through your thin, soaked undies, "I'm real careful when I wanna be."

Your posture struggled to stay up already. You took a fistful of his hair and screwed up his ponytail as his arms held you down, fingers hooked into the fabric.

The sharp, invasive noise of a door opening and a familiar, scratchy voice shot your body with a stiffness you had never felt before.

"Hey Dumbass, let's get this over with already, I wanna--,"

Two pairs of red eyes widened at the same exact time as you caught your breath to scream bloody murder.

Kirishima pushed you into the mattress with a Hero-like quickness, shushing your shrill curses and smothering your body with his comforter and own body.

It was far too late. Bakugou was standing stock-still at the open door, hand struggling to find it again in order to close it, while he stared open-mouthed and beet red at his buddy.

Despite you yelling at him to get out, fuck off, get lost, and the like, he only listened to Kirishima when he was told to, 'Wait outside the door for a sec, man.'

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," He leaned over you, breathing hard and on the verge of tears, "It's okay, you're okay--,"

"It's not!! It's not! You didn't lock the door?!"

"The dorms here don't have locks," He explained, way too calm for your liking.

You repeated, 'Don't have locks,' until you could find another thing to focus on.

"He saw me," You got worked up again, sniffling, "He--,"

"Awww, nonono," Kirishima lifted you up into a strong hug and kissed the side of your head, "I promise he doesn't care, baby. He's not that kinda guy."

It was too much, you were just with him in the gym and now he saw you, completely nude, sitting on his best friend's face. You wanted to leave immediately.

"I'm gonna talk to him, okay?"

He tried to let you go, but you stayed latched on, making him laugh. He grabbed a stray shirt from his bedframe and smelled it, then offered it as a replacement.

You first wiped the tears off of your face with it, hasty and angry, then mumbled as he stood back up, "Beat him up or something."

"I'll try," He joked and gave your leg a little rub before leaving to meet Bakugou in the hall.

His absence was sobering.

The very first thing you did was shimmy yourself into his gigantic t-shirt, with an obnoxiously long inhale through the dark grey cotton. His scent was like a shot of morphine.

Then, you sat very still, his collar over your nose, comforter still confining you like a caterpillar, to listen to the sounds of hushed voices right outside the door.

Why the hell didn't you knock--?

Don't get pissy at me! You're not supposed to have chicks in your room!

Bro, you KNEW how I felt and you KNEW she was over.

And YOU knew that Stats assignment was due at six. YOU asked ME to come over at 5.

It wasn't quite Kirishima throwing punches, but he did sound upset for you. You linked your fingers together and stared at the door.

I thought I made it pretty clear what I'd be doing for the next few hours, man.

No, No, No, and you still haven't. Looks like you beat the shit out of her! What the hell is on her neck?!

Dude, come on, you've never seen a hickey? Oh, waaait--

Don't.

There was a moment of tense quiet, and you were still holding out hope for Kirishima to kick his loud friend's ass, but it never came.

Let's just hurry this up.

The doorknob twisted then returned without opening. You pulled the shirt back down where it was supposed to go. More heated words, then Kirishima reappeared with an initial look that could kill. It was replaced with a polite, mom-pleasing smile at you.

"Hi," He waved, then glanced behind the door, "I hate to ask, but--"

"Move." Bakugou reappeared and didn't even spare a glance in your direction.

Despite Kirishima's warnings, went straight to the desk and sat a bag down, his permanent grumpy face no indicator of what he was thinking or what he felt.

Instead of joining him, Kirishima sat on the mattress next to you, found your skirt in the process, and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Like I said, he doesn't care," He rolled his eyes back to Bakugou, then sighed at how adorable you looked in his bed and the blunt pain in his pants.

His hand rested on the side of your face, the pad of his thumb dusting over your puffy bottom lip. He leaned in to kiss you.

"Oh my god, let's go," Bakugou clicked on the online assignment.

"Would you chill the fuck out?" Kirishima spat, his face dropped to one of bitter annoyance.

Red flag or not, you couldn't tell through your rose-colored glasses. You liked how upset he got over not spending alone time with you right now.

Even Bakugou, who knew him a lot better, a lot longer, than you, looked surprised to hear that tone leave his mouth.

Ever trifling, he shook it off and reminded him as he walked over, "Coulda done this shit two weeks ago."

As they shared more passive-aggressive words, you realized all you could do was sit there and stare at a wall. Your phone was on the desk next to Bakugou's hip, so there was no quality distraction for you.

You started counting the stripes on your skirt, then pleats, then stitches.

That got boring, so you started trying to look at what was on the shirt he gave you. Some old red guy.

He had the same old Hero on a few posters in his room. Crimson Riot-- you realized he must've modeled his whole Hero theme from him. The name and vibe were pretty similar.

He had a lot of pillows. Your understanding was that guys usually had two, or just one. But he had seven on his bed. Maybe he had sleeping problems? Or maybe he just liked pillows. Hopefully not like that.

You wondered why he kept someone like Bakugou around as a best friend. You were still pissed off at him, so it was hard not to stare, but you could get away with steeping in your frustration a while longer.

Not only was their Class better-known throughout the school for being really stupid and really great, but Bakugou was the acme of stupid and great, so every rumor and preconception you had was confirmed, so far, with his behavior. Just as much of an asshole as everyone says.

But it must've meant something that Kirishima liked him. Either Kirishima was meaner than he was letting on, or Bakugou was nicer. You hoped it was the latter.

They were stuck on a problem, and while Kirishima didn't seem to care so much, Bakugou was losing it over his own answer being wrong.

Apparently, their assignments had slightly different questions. Modeled the same, but with different values. And Bakugou couldn't figure this one out.

You got tired of hearing him repeat himself, how he had to be right, how the person who made this version of the assignment put something in wrong.

Although you had different teachers for Statistics, the material couldn't have been entirely dissimilar. You stood and realized you didn't even need the skirt-- his shirt was like a sundress.

"I didn't think Hero Course students took normal subjects," You tiptoed over to the desk, on the opposite side as Bakugou, and kept your eyes fixated on the problem on the screen.

Maybe if Kirishima wasn't distracting you, you weren't distracting him.

You mumbled under your breath, "Events which occur randomly... rate r counted over... period of length s so... event count X is Poisson...Find P of X is 2, X is... okay, ummmm," You tucked your lip between your teeth and stole the paper from Bakugou's side to record all of the given elements of the question.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as you started explaining in much clearer detail what they all stood for, why it seemed like a bunch of mumbo-jumbo, and answered his sometimes mind-bogglingly stupid questions with enviable patience.

It was starting to become obvious that Kirishima was not perfect. He even struggled with basic math.

One could argue that based on the number of times you caught him looking at the hem of his shirt on your thigh, it was safe to assume that maybe he had something else on his mind, too.

"Sooo, that would mean...?"

Kirishima leaned forward, two strong forearms on either side of you, to type his answer into the box.

Your tummy was doing flips as he rolled his chair closer, face pressed into your waist.

A little green checkmark appeared. He pulled you in by the opposite hip and kissed your side while Bakugou snatched up the work you helped Kirishima do.

"You're such a good teacher," Was mumbled low and smiley into the softness of your waist-- you cringed away, but once again, he held you still.

Bakugou didn't acknowledge it. But he didn't shoo you away or make any comments when Kirishima tugged you into his lap.

First, you shoved his shirt down so there wasn't a repeat of last time, and then, you tried to keep your pitiful protests to yourself once he started bouncing his leg up and down.

He pressed you to the edge of the desk so he could still write and type while Bakugou basically just told him what to do.

After that question, there weren't any more mistakes that needed fixing.

Which was fortunate considering that you would be incapable of forming a cohesive sentence. The constant force of his thigh was absolute heaven against your neglected pussy.

You kept face until Bakugou began to gather his things to leave. When he turned to place a textbook in his bag, Kirishima snaked an arm around your waist and started to add to the marks he left on your neck earlier.

Your thighs squeezed and you clawed at his knee and his wrist. He bit your ear in return and shoved his face into your hair.

The blond slung his bag over his shoulder.

Kirishima briefly came back to the real world with a quick dap-up and, "Take care, dude. See ya tomorrow."

"Yeah," Bakugou glanced at you, then back at his buddy, "Be safe."

taglist:

@dough-yo-bu @yellowflowerbub @fairywriter-oracle @kirismoon

@kwiwin @cringingmemeries @leo6472 @nijha2tact

[captainremmington-13]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 - 𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: attempted murder, swearing, parental neglect, overall sad vibes

A/N : this post is to set up context for the rest of the series (i have to set up the lore so everything makes sense lmao). this is my first time writing for luke, i promise i’ll get better at it with time :))

you essentially grew up at camp, having arrived at the young age of five

monsters began creeping their way into your life ever since you learned to speak. death seemed to be drawn to you.

first was the dracanea disguised as a nanny that tried to eat you while your mother was out of the house (she was a florist that prepared bouquets for funerals). you only survived because the dracanea was interrupted by your mortal older brother. when he saw you on the ground with the nanny about to wrap her hands around your tiny throat, he screamed so loud that the dracanea fled immediately. he then called the cops on her, but she’d long since disappeared. you were only three at the time.

the final straw was when an Aeternae attacked you on the preschool playground. it lept out from the large bushes near the fence and nearly ripped your face off. you would have died if your teacher, a satyr in disguise, hadn’t scared it off. 

your preschool teacher, Mr. Maciolli, escorted your to camp the next day. he had a long talk with your mother, who didn’t put up much of a fight to keep you at home. you attracted trouble that she had no time to deal with. 

with that, you were uprooted from your normal life and transported into the world of the Olympian gods. 

you were the youngest camper by far. the older campers took you under their wing, helping you adjust to camp life as best as they could. they gave you a wooden sword and taught you the basics of combat. they made sure to keep you away from anyone who could cause you harm. and most importantly, the many unclaimed demigods that you met while staying in Cabin 11 taught you that the gods didn’t give a flying fuck about their kids.

though it was difficult at first, you were happy. sure, you missed your mom sometimes, but you reminded yourself that she hadn’t been interested in keeping you around anyways. 

your first five years at camp were relatively peaceful. you developed your personality and learned your likes and dislikes, just like any “normal” kid. 

however, there were occasional incidents that were absolutely unexplainable. 

the worst one of all was this: a son of ares kept throwing pebbles at you while you were supposed to be picking strawberries. no matter what you said, he wouldn’t quit. after a particularly large pebble hit you in the back of the head, you turned around and screamed “stop it!”

the kid immediately collapsed, his skin turning pale. the other campers rushed him to the infirmary, and the apollo kids immediately got to work. 

they concluded that his heart had stopped. he had been dead to the world for almost a whole minute. if not for the nectar that had been poured down his throat, he probably wouldn’t have made it.

campers did their best not to anger you after that. nobody could explain what had happened, but clearly, you had caused the son of ares to have a close brush with death.

you were claimed by Thanatos, the god of death, at the age of ten. 

your social life turned on its head after that.

basically everyone except for Chiron and Mr. D avoided you like you were the walking Black Plague (which you kinda were)

after getting claimed, your powers increased. you could touch a small plant and kill it instantly if you wished to. wherever you sat, the grass would wither around you. you could even kill small animals with a simple touch (only if you wished it to die). 

nobody wanted to risk crossing you and getting killed. so nobody tried to get close to you. they would say the occasional “hello”, but that was it. 

you grew to resent not only your father, but all of the gods. they had everything, it seemed, while you had nothing. they didn’t even have the heart to check in on their own children. 

you learned to thrive without any companions. you spent your days sparring against invisible enemies, building muscle, and developing stamina. you rarely conversed with the other members of Cabin 11, staying in your bunk in the far corner of the cramped space. during your down time, you killed flowers, dried and pressed them, and used them to make collages. 

things were relatively stagnant for awhile.

until you turned fourteen. 

at age fourteen, luke castellan arrived at camp, and changed your life forever. 

Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!! I plan on making this a series, but I’m not sure how I’m going to format it yet. Stay tuned for the first official installment!

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist!

[the7thcrow]

Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 10

series pairing: (fem) princess!reader x seonghwa x san x wooyoung. eventual polyamory.

series masterlist | previous chapter

Part Ten: a relic from the past, confession, and dark magic.

series rating: 16+

series genre: action and adventure. romance. angst. fluff. suggestive. fantasy au.

series warnings: character death, blood and violence, weaponry, injury, suggestive content, mxm content, elements of misogyny, language, monsters. (will only be using chapter specific warnings for things not included on this list.)

summary: as a princess fleeing a royal assassination attempt, you have no choice but to put your trust in a band of three thieves in order to reach the kingdom of kuroku alive. however, amongst magic, deceit, and the bounty hunters that are hot on your trail, you realize that you might have stumbled upon a relationship far more complicated than what meets the eye.

chapter details beneath the cut ->

wc: 15.3k

extra chapter warnings: panic attack, a non-consensual kiss, non-consensual drug use (but magical? idk?).

chapter summary:

“It is you!” The stranger exclaims, their voice light and feminine.

Feminine and familiar. You narrow your eyes.

“Do I…” You start, swallowing down the bile that has arisen in your throat, as well as the tremble of fear in your voice. “Do I know you?”

a/n: guess who’s back :3 sorry this took me a million years to write, hopefully i can be a bit more consistent in the next coming months. hope you enjoy, and don’t be shy to let me know what you think! love y’all, thanks to everyone who has not abandoned this story after this massive hiatus LMAO <3

Seonghwa has never believed anger to suit him.

While Woo wears his anger like a loaded cannon, and San - like most other things - buries it until it inevitably rises to the surface, Seonghwa has tried to avoid fury when he can.

After all, anger is often the replacement of a different emotion. It comes easier than understanding, quicker than resolution. It’s the nasty, winding short-cut off the high road, and Seonghwa has learned that the high road is almost always the safer path in the long term.

Anger is ugly. It’s nonsensical and he doesn’t like how it looks on him. It’s why he prefers the cold shoulder to blind rage, sorting out his feelings on his own rather than lashing out on others. It’s the kind thing to do. The empathetic thing to do.

It’s never been overly difficult for him to settle this rage until now.

It festers in his mind every morning, as well as in the night before he falls asleep. Everytime he accidentally catches your eye over breakfast, letting his gaze drift away in hopes that you will think that his eyes were trailing by rather than staring.

He is so unbelievably angry with you, and he hates it.

From the moment the truth was revealed in the forest, it’s as if someone wrapped a hand around his lungs and began to squeeze, then never let go. A hot, burning fire in his chest that’s smoke rises up his throat, choking him with rage. It stings his eyes, fogs his senses. It feels unbeatable, indestructible. Blinding.

He knows that anger is just an emotion. A bad one, one that he’s had to expel from others countless times before. From San, after The Desert Lotus. It’s just another entity, another plague on the body. Settle down, feel it, think better of it, then let it be gone.

And yet now that feels an impossible task. Seonghwa doesn’t know the last time he was so angry. Perhaps it was the night in the kitchen with his mother, learning of the heights of human greed, the one he relives every time he uses his gift to expel the anger from someone else.

He supposes this memory may replace that one.

When he found out the truth about you it was like the last few weeks came crashing down around him. The closeness, the trust and understanding, the mutual respect and admiration.

All lies. All of it. And he feels like such a fucking idiot.

There was no trust, and by the gods, there was certainly no respect. He was a mere pawn in your game, a part of the plan, and all he can do is beat himself up about being too naive to not see it earlier. Woo has always harped on him for being too nice to people, or as the elemental would put it, “not behaving like an actual person, but more like a rock on a walkway that people like to kick around”. Seonghwa thought that Woo was just being grouchy, the pessimist he always is. But hell, maybe he was right.

After all, Seonghwa should have seen it coming. There was so much he could have done. If he had questioned why a beautiful stranger would have so much immediate interest in him in the first place, or why you constantly asked him questions while dismissing any deeper ones about yourself. If he wasn’t so passive about the parasitic emotions practically radiating off of you. If he looked past the ideal he so desperately wanted and dared to dig up the reality of what was underneath.

He’s not an idiot. The reality is that for you, it was never about him. It was about getting to Kuroku. For him it was about the journey, but for you it was always in the name of the destination.

And well, he certainly did his part in getting you there. He shared his gift with you as a token of trust, he took your pain away and made it his own, he vouched for you against Woo’s constant doubt.

All for a girl who’s name he didn’t even know.

The thought makes more anger - ugly, volatile, and oh-so-unflattering - surge within his chest, and he throws a rock into the lake before him. It doesn’t skip as he intended, and instead sinks with a loud plunk.

Seonghwa frowns. He grabs another rock to throw.

After being met with an even louder plunk, he groans, before creeping further up onto the shoreline to grab a flatter rock. His toes dip in the water, which feels colder than yesterday now that he’s no longer fueled by sheer terror and adrenaline.

The coolness brings him back to Maralya, when he and Yunho would sit on the fishing dock. Feet in the water, even though Seonghwa was older, Yunho was the one who had taught him to skip rocks. His half-brother always had a knack for things like that, or well, for everything it seemed. From medical skills, to scaling buildings, to setting a fishing line; Yunho could master whatever he picked up. He must have inherited it from his father, a man Seonghwa doesn’t really remember, as he died when they were young.

Seonghwa doesn’t remember his own father either, as he disappeared on an escapade to The Mainland directly after he was born. His mother told him that his ship was lost at sea, but Seonghwa is pretty sure he just left and never came back.

It doesn’t really matter, he’s never had much of a desire to know the man. After all, the only thing Seonghwa inherited from him was his foolishness. And maybe his nose.

Seonghwa sighs. Picking up another rock, this one flat and polished, he recalls the steps in his mind. Yunho's voice runs through his head as he goes through the form, before bringing his hand back and letting it fly.

Plunk.

He stares at the ripples surrounding the sinking stone for a moment, before sitting down. He must have forgotten a step. It was a long time ago.

He lays back so that his head presses into the sand, the little grains cold and damp against his scalp. It’s familiar. It’s a little like the shore at home, although the sand isn’t as white, and the water’s colder, nor as blue. There’s no sound of hustle and bustle from back in the village, or his mother yelling at him to take a dip in the ocean before coming back inside because he’s covered in sand and he can’t track that into the house.

So maybe it’s not so similar, but he will pretend.

Seonghwa sighs, grabbing a handful of sand, letting it fall between his fingers. It’s times like these, ones where he’s dejected, broken-down, and lonely, that he wants nothing more than to go home. Only then does he remember that there’s no home for him to return to.

He sighs, his anger drifting to sadness, and yet he doesn’t mind. He believes that at the very least, it suits him better.

Footsteps approach from far off behind him, and he knows that it’s you. Woo walks faster, heavier footed, and he likely wouldn’t have heard San until he was closer. Besides, you’ve been walking with a slight limp since the fall, and he can hear it in the thump of every second step.

A part of him wants to ask what happened, what hurts. If you’re okay.

The angry part of him won’t let the other speak.

He hears your steps stutter, coming to a sudden halt from what he assumes is about a dozen feet off. Silence follows, and he wonders what you’re thinking. If you’re nervous to approach him, taking the time to contemplate your words before you say them.

Eventually, you do come closer. “San and Woo want to head towards Bebbanburg,” you call out from behind him. “I said that I’d come get you.”

“Thanks,” Seonghwa says flatly, making no motion to move. He will, of course, but not until you head back to camp. He’d like to avoid the awkwardness of walking in a strained silence, pretending not to notice as you try to meet his eye.

Although when he doesn’t hear you leave, it seems as if he doesn’t have much of a choice.

Sighing, he pushes himself up into a seated position. Glancing back at you, he has to place a hand over his forehead to block out the rising sun blinding his vision.

You stand with your arms wrapped around yourself, watching him with a dampened expression. Your tunic billows in the wind, torn around the waist and covered in dirt and dust. Chewing on your bottom lip as your fingers tap along your arm, you appear on edge. As if you wish to say something.

Seonghwa hates the way he wishes to know what it is. He hates how he wants to smooth your hair that is violently blown by the wind and wipe away the smudge of mud that has hardened against your cheek.

He hates how even now, after everything, he yearns for you.

Perhaps this is how it always would have ended, anyway. Having grown more attached then he ever should, not ready to lose what he knew was never his.

“Seonghwa,” you say finally, although it’s a little strained. Rigid. “About yesterday, by the fire.”

Ah yes, that. You and San hadn’t noticed him at the time, but when neither he or Woo came back to the fire, the two of you went out looking for them. It only took a moment, finding them sitting against the caves outer wall. Quiet and avoidant. Woo had fallen asleep, but Seonghwa had met your gaze. He held it for only a moment, watching your own eyes widen as you realized he’d seen the whole thing. He looked away when your lips parted to speak.

“With San. I hadn’t expected it to happen,” you say, calling loudly over the wind, and yet somehow your voice still seems quiet. Trapped and tight. “I… I don’t regret it. But after everything, it feels unfair to you-”

“I don’t care about you and San,” Seonghwa butts in. Not aggressively, or overly angry, merely factual. After all, that’s not what he’s angry about. He doesn’t care about you and San. That’s your business.

He wants San to be happy. Whatever it takes, the swordsman deserves a bit of peace.

Besides, now that he will not, perhaps San will wipe the mud from your cheek.

“Oh,” you say, followed by a pause. “You just seem upset.”

“I’m not angry about that,” Seonghwa replies, lips pursing together. He swallows hard. “Just about everything you did before it.”

Your expression falls. Mouth dropping open into a small part, your eyes fill with a sudden sense of shame and hurt. Your hands grip your elbows, hugging yourself tighter, even if only slightly.

Your expression settles like stone in his gut, and he knows that what he said has made you hurt. He has made you feel that same pain that tightens in his chest and floods up his throat.

Seonghwa wishes he hadn’t said that.

No matter his anger, no matter the pain, Seonghwa has never wished to pass an entity on to another.

“I’ll meet you back at the cave in a moment,” he says, because he doesn’t want to say anything else that he’ll regret. He doesn’t want to force his gaze from yours while at the same time feeling a pull towards you like a beacon, begging him to take it away. Take it all away. All the horrible entities that radiate from you like a plague, a blackened sickness.

Turning back towards the lake, he waits. When he hears the sound of your footsteps - fading away, not growing louder - he lets out a sigh of relief.

He doesn’t like what this has made him into. The anger that has filled him, strangles him, stops him from drifting towards you like a moth to a flame. Sure to be burned, but the glow will be glorious.

No, anger doesn’t suit him. And yet he wears it, draping over him, akin to a stranger’s jacket.

If there is any luck to be found following your fall from the cliff, it’s in that at least you’ve found yourselves closer to Bebbanburg.

The journey to the small kingdom only took a few hours, the fact that you had nothing to carry but the clothes on your back having sped up the trek. It was spent in silence.

You know there’s certain to be some of the black-clad men poking around in such a populous city, so upon reaching the kingdom, the first order of business was to purchase you a cloak, as Mingi’s own had remained within a satchel on the horse’s back.

It weighs down on your shoulders, knowing that it’s gone, the final piece of him you had left. You’ve tried to view it as for the better, as the cloak of a Libaiyan Royal Guard could have attracted the attention of the wrong pair of eyes.

Even so, it hurts.

The cloak you wear now isn’t nearly as nice, a tattered brown fabric that’s itchy in the spots where it touches your bare skin, but it only cost a few bronze pieces. Considering that all the group of you have to your name is the pouch of coins attached to San’s waste, you have to know where to ration your spendings.

This is only on the necessities. San is trying to locate a cheap blacksmith to fashion him a new sword. Meanwhile, Woo and Seonghwa are searching if there’s anywhere for your group to stay that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg. Bebbanburg is an expensive kingdom, and so long as you find a place with a roof and walls that doesn’t blow through all of your savings, you’ll consider yourselves lucky.

With all the men on their own errands and a new cloak purchased, you’ve had about an hour to kill before now, as you currently make your way to meet them back at the city center. You’ve spent it wandering, peering into shop windows but never making your way inside. You don’t have the money to spend, nor do you want the undivided attention of a shop-keeper when you’re trying to lay low.

You’ve passed a few of your wanted posters strown up about the town, plastered to bulletin boards, poles, and shop windows alike. On top of being newly adorned with a far more accurate portrait of yourself, they’ve also added the detail of your recent scars. Printed along the bottom is the following: “Last spotted travelling with three young men. Potentially dangerous. Approach with caution.”

As an incentive due to what you assume is the elevated danger risk, they’ve increased the reward for your capture or demise to 300,000 gold pieces.

Apparently, someone at the tavern ratted the group of you out. Likely Yeosang and his band of not-so-merry men, or perhaps the poor shop-keeper desperate for a bribe.

Either way, someone is on your tail. Considering the new addition to the posters, that someone is in this city.

You haven’t seen them yet, but you know that it’s the black-clad men. They have to be lurking around here somewhere, they’re just being quiet about it.

You swallow hard, pulling the hood of your cloak further down.

Fortunately, the street’s are bustling with people. Bebbanburg, while not quite as big as the four major kingdoms, is still a hub for tourism. With money to spend, the streets are clean, the buildings well-kept. Despite being a narrow path in the merchant’s district in town, the air smells fresh.

It doesn’t feel quite right, in your opinion. Between the few towns you’ve visited these past few weeks, there was a certain scent to the air that felt more…natural. A strange concoction of smells as different taverns and homes didn’t agree on a pre-set menu for the night, dirt and pebbles aligning the trails as hunters dragged home their latest catch, or the muddy hoof-prints left by horses that stick to the bottoms of your shoes.

Bebbanburg feels too polished. The sort of polished that takes an effort, that works extra hard to rid itself of anything it deems unclean.

Trying not to obsess too much over the fact, you do your best to retrace your steps in order to return to the city center, taking a turn down another street. A slight limp to your step, ankle still not having fully recovered from your fall off the cliff, you count the shop doors that you pass along the alley’s stone wall. You kept count on your way here in order to know which alley to take back.

Counting down the doors, you pass by a butcher’s shop, cafe, and Zarian boutique for rare gems, all of which you’d passed along the way here. Gaze fluttering passively over the alley next to the boutique, you nearly miss the pair of eyes that lock on your own. Cat-like gaze fixated on yours, the bottom half of the figure's face is covered by a black cloth, their head shrouded in a dark cloak.

You pause. Hesitant, you retrace your last few steps, peering back down the alley.

The figure’s cloak follows behind them as they disappear behind a winding turn.

Swallowing down the bile that arises in your throat as an unsettled chill creeps down your spine, you keep moving along your original route. It was just a stranger. You’re paranoid, on edge, searching to find shadows and enemies in places in which they are not there.

Nevermind how something about the stranger's gaze felt oddly…familiar. Although you cannot place from where.

You continue along your original path, turning down the alley that will take you back to the city center. Glancing over your shoulder, you see nobody behind you, just the bustle of people continuing their way down the mainstreet. You mentally scold yourself. You’re being ridiculous, and casting lingering glances as you loiter in one place for too long is only going to attract attention.

When you turn forward, you catch a glimpse of movement, as something disappears behind a wall up ahead of you. “Shit,” you think to yourself, rushing forward as you place your back against the stone wall, peeking an eye out to see if you can spot them.

All you can manage is the tail end of the dark cloak disappearing down another alleyway. You wait a moment, as if contemplating how daring - or foolish - you’re willing to be, before heading after them.

“This is a bad idea,” you whisper to yourself, hand drifting to the hilt of the sword at your waist as you follow after the mysterious figure. However, even if unwise, you’d rather know your enemy and have them right in front of you compared to being stalked like prey. You’ll get slain in a fair fight any day before getting your throat slit from behind.

It’s a morbid thought, something San would likely say during combat practice, and you wonder if you’ve been spending too much time with these men.

Following the stranger, you keep quiet on your feet. Pulling the sword out from its sheath, you tread carefully, slowing your pace as you near the corner that the cloak had disappeared behind. Holding the sword firm in your grasp, you take a deep and shaky breath, before jumping to face your attacker.

Only to find there is nobody there, just another barren alleyway. Another alleyway that leads to nothing but a dead end, a stone wall looming tall before you.

You frown, confused at how this is possible. Your gaze darts around the narrow alleyway, searching for a cloaked figure, but it remains entirely empty.

Letting out a troubled sigh, you resheath your sword and turn back around.

Only to be met face first with the masked stranger.

Your breath dies in your throat, and you instinctively pull an arm back, aiming to strike them. However, as you swing forward, they narrowly dodge your strike, managing to grab your wrist instead. They twist it, not so hard as to dislodge anything, but enough that it disarms you. Then, using their free hand to push you backwards, they press you up against the stone wall. Elbow against your chest and hand gripping your upper arm, their spare hand grips tightly around your other wrist, rending you immobile.

Your chest heaves, not from tiredness but scheer panic. They’ve got you. Your gaze flickers up, to scan the face of your assailant. The person that will turn you in to the black-clad men, or is perhaps one themself.

The strangers' dark eyes meet yours from beneath their thick cloak, black orbs dancing as they move to scan over your face. Cat-like in their shape, with thick eye-lashes and brows.

Then the stranger laughs.

It’s not a menacing laugh, nor one you would expect from someone who is about to kill you. Instead it’s joyous, almost disbelieving.

“It is you!” The stranger exclaims, their voice light and feminine.

Feminine and familiar. You narrow your eyes.

“Do I…” You start, swallowing down the bile that has arisen in your throat, as well as the tremble of fear in your voice. “Do I know you?”

The stranger’s eyebrows furrow together into a look of confusion, before lighting up in realization. “Oh!” They say, before doing the last thing you would have ever expected of removing their hands from you entirely. “Of course!”

The stranger pulls off the hood of their cloak, revealing a head of long, thick red hair. They follow the removal of their hood by doing the same with their mask, and with it, you are hit with a wave of not only relief, but scheer and unadulterated joy.

“Yeji!” You nearly shout, pulling your back from the wall and wrapping your arms around your old laundress.

She chuckles, and then you are both laughing. In happiness, in relief, in sheer and utter disbelief. You pull away, placing both of your hands along her jaw to cup her face. You scan every detail, to ensure that she is real and actually standing before you, not some sort of trick or illusion.

But is her, just as you had seen her last at the castle. Maybe not exactly the same, wearing far different clothes than the modest beige dress she had adorned as your laundress, hair worn loosely, and eyes holding more of an edge than they ever had before.

Still, it is Yeji.

Yeji with the shimmering grin and freckle on her nose. Yeji who you know, and knows you in return. Yeji from your castle. Your home.

Yeji, a relic from the past that has not been destroyed.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, following me around like that,” you laugh, taking one of your hands and giving her a slap on the shoulder, playful and not hard enough to actually hurt.

“Sorry,” she grins. “I didn’t want to attract any attention on the street. Figured it would be safer to lure you somewhere quiet, and you know, I also wanted to make sure it was actually you first.”

She then scoffs, returning the slap onto your own shoulder. “I didn’t expect you to pull out a sword on me! Where did you even get one of those?”

You consider answering, but a heavy cloud of unanswered questions hangs over the two of you, its presence loud and rattling like thunder. The jovial nature to your reunion cannot last long, not when there’s so much at stake, not when your world has crumbled to ash since you last spoke.

“What are you doing in Bebbanburg?” You ask, before realizing there’s a far more pressing question at hand. “How did you get out of the castle?”

Yeji smiles, placing her hand over one of your own along her cheek. “After what happened with the king in the ball-room, it was chaos,” she explains. “The Dark Army were rounding up and capturing all those who worked in the castle and may have been close to you.”

Your heart seizes at the statement, and your voice is quiet as you speak again. “Did they hurt them?”

“I don’t know,” Yeji replies, tone equally as somber. “A group of us laundresses escaped together using the underground tunnel system. I didn’t see what happened to those they had rounded up, but…”

She swallows hard, eyes pitiful as they meet your own. “But with how The Dark Army were talking, and the screams that followed behind us…I don’t think it would have ended well for them, Princess.”

Your throat swells at her admission, and it becomes more difficult to breathe as your eyes fill with the remnants of tears. Your mind is flooded with the unwelcome image of all of your old servants - your friends, as they had far surpassed their job description - tortured to try and probe them for information regarding you.

You wipe at your eyes with your hands, stuffing down the rising guilt and pain, placing a lid on these horrible thoughts. You will mourn later, when you have the time to properly grieve and honour all that they have lost because of you. For now, you must keep moving, deal with what is right in front of you.

“You keep calling them The Dark Army,” you begin, changing the subject. “Is that a made up title, or something they’ve defined themselves as? Do we know who they are?”

Yeji shakes her head. “Nobody knows who they are, it’s just what we’ve been calling them because of their armour. Not to mention the fact that they are about the sourest men I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve spoken to them?” You ask, scolding yourself for the fear that seizes in your chest at the thought of it. Of them being anywhere near her, or anyone you care about, for that matter.

She nods. “They’re poking around the city. Trying to keep a low profile, because Bebbanburg doesn’t like any semblance of war or conflict contaminating their streets, but they’re here. We try to keep to ourselves by not causing any trouble or disturbances and they mostly leave us alone.”

Your head buzzes at the confirmation that they are here, within the walls and perhaps a mere alley-way over, which is far, far too close.

“You keep saying we,” you note. “There’s more of you?”

Yeji nods, a soft smile grazing her lips. “Lot’s of us. We’ve set up a refugee camp on the outskirts of the city. Bebbanburg doesn’t want us here, because of course they don’t, but at least it’s safe. Not much crime or Anti-Libaiyan extremists in the city, so even if it’s not much, it’s all that we can really ask for.”

If she had told you this a couple weeks ago, you’d have been startled to know that there were Anti-Libaiyan extremists at all. However, having been given insight into the monstrosities your father was capable of, this no longer comes as a surprise, but rather expected.

“Can you take me to them?” You ask, and Yeji nods.

“Of course,” she says, grabbing your hand as she begins to walk back up the alley-way. “Although, I’d recommend keeping a low-profile, seeing that you're alive might cause a little too much excitement. Draw attention.”

You nod in agreement, following behind her through the winding alley-ways. It’s not until you’re almost back on the main city street that you remember why exactly you were trekking through the alleyways in the first place.

“Wait,” you say, stopping. Yeji turns to face you, raising a quizzical eyebrow. “There’s some people I need you to meet first.”

“Where have you been?” Woo asks as you approach. The three men have gathered around the fountain within the center of the city square, water spouting from the tall and golden statue into a small pond embedded with various coloured jewels along its rim. The falling water casts a veil of mist around them, as well as the various other groups gathered beside it. Many of them are tourists from different kingdoms, which you can recognize by the various types of clothing they wear, such as the vibrant coloured patchwork of the group next to you that is distinctly Zarian. It seems a prime spot to talk, the definition of hiding in plain sight.

“You were supposed to meet us here a half-hour ago,” Woo says with a scowl, before he notices Yeji beside you. His gaze flickers up and down, as if assessing her potential danger. “Who is this?”

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself, before motioning to her. “You guys, this is Yeji.”

She gives them a smile to which none of the men return, and for a moment you stand in silence.

“We’ve heard that one before,” Woo says.

Your face warms with embarrassment, and you clear your throat before beginning to explain. “This is the real Yeji, the girl whose name I used. She was one of my laundresses back at the castle, as well as a close friend.”

Another moment of silence follows, as none of the men appear to know what to say, or how to approach the appearance of a stranger.

Eventually, Seonghwa speaks, tone polite. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, to which Yeji returns the sentiment. Although he isn’t looking at you to see it, you cast Seonghwa a grateful smile all the same.

“This is Seonghwa, San, and Woo,” you say, pointing to each of them in turn. “They have been helping me get to Kuroku.”

“Thank you for aiding Her Highness,” Yeji says, placing a hand on her chest while delivering a curtsy. A sign of respect. Although…exceedingly formal respect.

San’s lips pull together into a stifled smile, and Woo raises an eyebrow.

“You, um, don’t have to do that,” you say, placing a hand on Yeji’s shoulder and gently tugging her upwards. “It’s not really like that.”

“Oh,” she says, straightening herself as her eyebrows raise in surprise. There’s a silence that follows, as well as a sense of discomfort that hangs in the air, as Yeji chews nervously on her lower lip.

And for all the love that you have for her, you know exactly what she’s thinking, as it’s been drilled into her since the moment she began to work at the castle: The demands of Libaiyan proprietary.

She ponders that if the relationship with this group of men escorting you is not formal, then what is it, and how far have you stretched the rules of etiquette that bind you?

You wouldn’t even know how to answer that question even if she asked.

Instead of dwelling on the subject and the lingering discomfort, you turn to Woo and Seonghwa. “Did the two of you find a place for us to stay the night?”

Woo scoffs in annoyance while Seonghwa shakes his head, defeated.

“Not anywhere reasonable,” Seonghwa says. “There’s a few places we can go if nightfall comes, but we honestly might be better off sleeping in the woods. It should be a clear night, and at least it won’t cost us an arm and a leg.”

You frown, not fond of the idea of spending yet another night on the ground, especially without a tarp or blanket to shield you from the elements.

Fortunately, Yeji pipes up from beside you. “If you’re looking for a place to stay, we’ve formed a refuge on the outskirts of the city. I believe we have an extra tent to spare.”

Now this finally causes the men’s expression to shift, the discomfort and wariness on each of their faces replaced with a glimpse of relief.

“Alright,” San says, gaze shifting over to you even as he speaks to Yeji, and his expression is difficult to read. He appears almost bemused. “Lead the way.”

The refuge, while about as bleak as you expected it to be, fills you with an undeniable sense of glee. Mostly due to how big it is, meaning that even if the mass size of the refuge indicates that there have been hundreds driven from the Libaiyan kingdom, there are also far more people who survived and escaped the castle than you’d originally thought.

Gathered just outside of Bebbanburg’s walls, dozens of the beige and tattered fabric tents are clumped together, creating a sort of maze as people make their way between the narrow passages. Head shrouded beneath your hood, the five of you pass through the different camps, ducking beneath laundry lines hanging between tent poles and maneuvering through the small groups gathered around make-shift fire pits as they roast small rodents and birds for dinner.

You watch their faces, searching amidst them for anger, for loss and resentment. While some are quiet, dark circles of tiredness hanging beneath their eyes, others are not so beaten down. There is the sound of laughter in the air, and a group of children nearly bump into you as they recklessly chase each other through the labyrinth of tents.

You smile. All is not lost.

You’d been so focused on your own survival, of getting to Kuroku alive and fighting to give your kingdom a chance, that you hadn’t realized the fear you had of there being no kingdom to fight for. Of not only the castle being besieged, but the entire kingdom being left in ashes.

Yet, even if this is so, there are still Libaiyans left. There is still a nation, full of life, that will not let themselves be stripped of their pride so easily.

“This way,” Yeji says softly, trying not to draw too much attention to your party. A group of girls wave to her as you pass by, and you recognize some of them as your kitchen maids, although you were never close enough to have learned their names.

The women are seated around a small fire. With the setting sun, they gather closed together, a blanket stretched over them. Or, upon closer look, a Libaiyan flag, its golden sun bright against its stark white background.

There is a man playing the lute sitting beside them. He has light eyes and a soft voice, fingers dancing as he strums the small wooden instrument in tune with his voice.

The man sings a Libaiyan folk song, one about a man arriving home to a small Libaiyan village after fighting many long years at war. The song doesn’t make clear which war exactly, centuries old and deriving from a time of high conflict, but it doesn’t really matter.

After all, the song is less about the war, and more about coming home. The ghosts of his fallen comrades following him, cane in hand to support his leg that will never heal, and his love having left the village to marry another man from the kingdom city.

The song is normally sung in a minor chord. It’s sad and melancholic, painting a tale of loss and grief.

However, the man currently singing has changed its tune to a major chord.

A message of triumph. Of defiance. Of the man’s survival, even after all else is lost and destroyed.

A song of hope.

You want to join them. To listen to this man sing your nation's song, to let his tune of triumph fill not only the air, but your entire body. Your heart, even your soul. Reignite the reason you started this journey, why you couldn’t give up.

These people need you. Your people need you.

Yeji wraps her arm around your wrist, giving you a gentle tug forward as you linger near the fire for a little too long.

“Don’t worry,” she whispers. “You’ll be able to hear his voice late into the night, even from your tent.”

You aren’t sure how to respond, how to depict your gratitude for all of this. For her taking you in and letting you hear these songs that you weren’t so sure you’d ever hear again, for being alive and granting you hope.

All you can do is reach to give her hand a soft squeeze, and hope she understands.

Yeji stops before a small tent, one that doesn’t seem big enough for two men, let alone three. “I know it isn’t much, but I hope it will do.”

“It’ll do,” Seonghwa answers with a smile.

“Especially considering we have no luggage,” Woo grumbles.

If Yeji hears the dissatisfaction in his voice, she doesn’t show it. “My own tent is just over there,” she says, pointing to what is only a few tents over. It’s a bit larger than the one before you, although not by much. She turns to you. “You can stay with me.”

You’re grateful for the sentiment, considering none of the men - except maybe San - would enjoy being forced to share such close quarters with you.

“There’s a table inside, if you’d all like to sit and regroup. I can catch you up on all that has happened since the siege,” Yeji says.

Her gaze flickers over to the three men, and it is hesitant. Curious, as it returns to you. “And you can do the same.”

“Scorpion beasts, a mimic, and a dragon-basilisk hybrid all in just a few weeks?” Yeji gapes, hands clutching tight around her mug of hot tea, as if she needs something to hold onto. “And you’re alive?”

“I take it your journey here wasn’t so exciting?” San asks, sipping his own mug. He seems in good spirits today, as he willingly engages in conversation with Yeji. Especially compared to Seonghwa - who is more hesitant, likely less willing to jump the gun on trusting a new stranger - and Woo, who sits with his eyes bearing down into the table, not touching his mug even as the tea inside grows cold.

“No, we took the main path down the Arila River, so far less rural,” Yeji explains. “Although it was a good thing you didn’t do the same. There were Dark Army ports all along its bank. We were stopped and searched at every one of them.”

If there’s one thing you’ve learnt from Yeji’s recollection of the besiegement and the time that followed, it’s that the black-clad men are relentless in their pursuit. They want you, at any cost. You only wish you knew who they were, so at least then you’d know why.

“I really am glad you’re alive, Princess,” Yeji says suddenly, hand drifting to rest on your own atop the table. “Libaiya has a chance to be strong again, so long as your blood sits on the throne. You’ll make the perfect Queen.”

You open your mouth to thank her, albeit bashfully, but are cut off as Woo pushes himself from the table. It rattles in protest, although the elemental does not seem to care, as he stomps towards the tent-flap. He does not meet any of your eyes as he disappears beneath it.

“I’m sorry,” Yeji says, tone worried. “Did I say something to-”

“It’s not you,” San reassures her. “He’s just been dealing with a lot lately.”

“I’ll go talk to him,” you say, because you have a feeling about what may be bothering him. Your blood, as Yeji had said. Although to him, it’s more like poison.

“No,” Seonghwa cuts you off, already rising to his feet. “You shouldn’t, I don’t think he’d take it well. I’ll go.”

You want to protest, as Seonghwa does not know about Woo’s past, about the orphanage. The Libaiyan orphanage, and all the horrors that happened there. But the empath is already heading towards the tent flap, and the words die on your lips.

Even so, maybe he is right. Woo is upset, upset about you and your nation, perhaps you are not the one who should attempt to console him. Besides, Seonghwa has always been far better at that.

Yet, as you watch Seonghwa disappear after Woo, you have the sinking feeling it may not go as the empath plans.

Wooyoung cannot breathe.

Making his way blindly through the darkness of the refuge, the sun having set over the horizon, he pushes past Libaiyan’s as he heads for the exit. They turn and look at him as he shoves past, and he wonders if they know. If they can smell it on him.

“You were his,” they whisper as he walks by, or is that just in his head? “One of his dogs. Our dogs. A machine for use. Worthless.”

The last word is in Warden’s voice, and Wooyoung places a hand over his ears to try and tune it out. The other clutching his chest.

He can’t breathe. By the god’s, he really can’t breathe.

Each short pant is as unsatisfying as the next. He feels dizzy, wanting to summon a ball of flame to guide him, but he can’t seem to move his hands in front of him. He pushes forward, searching for an exit through the mazes of tents.

Then he’s covered in something. It’s thin, engulfing him, and panic rises hot in his chest. They’ve gotten him. Again. It’s happening again. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

It’s only after nobody attempts to drag him away and he gets a whiff of soap that he realizes that what covers him is not a bag, but someone's laundry. With shaky hands, he untangles himself from the fabric, before glancing down at his captor.

It’s a Libaiyan flag.

The bright, golden, and horrible sun stares back at him. The same one hung in the cafeteria, the one he pledged allegiance to three times a day. The one plastered atop the ceiling of his bedroom, watching him every night. The one deckled on Warden’s shoulder, as he tortured them relentlessly, as he murdered Yeonjun.

Wooyoung throws it to the ground, hands still shaking as he walks over it, the dirt on the bottom of his shoe stark against the flag’s white background.

“Woo!” A voice calls from behind him, but it sounds far away. Maybe it’s also just in his head. He keeps walking.

He can hear the sound of the same man singing as when you’d all entered the camp. He has a nice voice as he sings Libaiyan songs. Songs he’s never heard. Songs that were reserved for Libaiyan citizens, not slaves.

Wooyoung’s throat burns with the taste of Libaiyan tea. Only one sip, and it will not leave his tongue.

It tasted like the infirmary tent after Assessment Day in the orphanage. Before Warden got there, but not before Wooyoung got beaten within the sparring ring. They’d given him the tea to calm him down, try and make him forget the burns lacing up and down his arms.

With the taste on his tongue it’s as if he can feel them again, the searing pain starting in his mind and seeping into his skin.

“Woo, hold on!” The voice calls again, closer than the last. This time Wooyoung knows it’s not in his head, as he recognizes it to be Seonghwa. The sound of foot-steps follows behind him, as the empath chases after him.

He does not turn around. He needs to get out of this place.

Wooyoung begins to run.

Tearing through the refuge, he sees Bebbenburg’s outer walls appear ahead of him, the light emitted from the lanterns hung on the outside fortress drawing him in like a beacon.

When he reaches the wall, he makes sure to take a few steps inside and past the gates, to ensure that he is no longer within Libaiyan territory. Here, he is within the Kuroken realm. Safe.

He pauses to catch his breath, less from the running and more from the panic that has seized him. Hands placed on his knees, Wooyoung lets the foggy haze fade from his mind, although it does not relinquish control so easily. His heart continues to race, ears ringing with a constant buzz.

Wooyoung doesn’t know why this is affecting him so horribly. He’s been to the Libaiyan castle since entering the orphanage, having stolen plenty of Libaiyan treasures and heirlooms on their heists within the castle.

Then again, that was in the dark of the night, when there were no songs to be sung or tea to be drunk. When the flags were shrouded in pure shadow, not wrapped around him like bonds of rope.

That was when he was in control. That was when he was taking from them. That was revenge.

That was before he entangled himself with their princess.

“Woo, what the hell?” Seonghwa asks as he approaches, slightly out of breath from chasing down the elemental. “Where are you going?”

“Away,” Wooyoung says, because it is all he can manage. He doesn’t look up at Seonghwa, instead staring at the cobblestone beneath his shoes, blinking blearily as he tries to direct his focus to its stone patch-work.

“Why did you just storm out of there?” Seonghwa asks. He’s not mad. Not yet. He genuinely wishes to know.

“Because of what that woman said,'' Wooyoung answers in his mind. “Because it’s true, she is the Libaiyan throne. Because it is her blood that’s done all of this. That did this to me.”

Wooyoung, of course, does not actually say any of this out loud. Seonghwa won’t understand. He doesn’t know, not only about Wooyoung’s past, but the orphanages in general. He’s from a small town within Zaria’s realm, far away from any news about Libaiyan political treachery.

He won’t get it, and Wooyoung isn’t going to even bother to try and explain it to him, especially when his tongue feels three sizes too large and his heart beats at a million times per minute.

“Leave me alone, Hwa,” he mutters, turning away from Seonghwa and heading deeper into Bebbanburg, hoping the empath will take the hint and piss off.

But he doesn’t, because after all, it’s Seonghwa. The blonde follows after him. “Where are you going to go, Woo? You saw the poster, it’s better to stay together, keep a low profile.”

“Leave me alone, Hwa,” Wooyoung repeats, beginning to walk faster, tone a little more pointed.

“Is this about her?” Seonghwa asks, and now his own tone is rising, annoyed as has to jog to catch up to the elemental. “Look I know you’re mad, I am too. But can’t you just push that aside? We’re almost to Kuroku, then we’ll be past it. We can move on.”

“Right. We’ll get to Kuroku. She’ll leave. San will leave. And then inevitably, you will too.”

After being met with silence, Seonghwa lets out a groan of annoyance, continuing to chase after him.

“Woo, stop!” He calls, reaching out to grab Wooyoung’s arm. Wooyoung slaps his hand away, perhaps a little harder than he should have. “Can’t we just talk about this? Can’t we have an actual conversation for once instead of you shoving me away?”

Wooyoung keeps moving, because no, they can’t. Not right now. Not like this. Not when he can’t think straight.

“I don’t get what you have to be so mad about anyway!”

Wooyoung stops at this, finally turning around to face Seonghwa. “What?”

Seonghwa stares at him for a moment, eyes wide and mouth parted with surprise that Wooyoung actually stopped. Then he frowns, eyebrows furrowing together, as if remembering his annoyance.

“Yes, she lied to you,” Seonghwa starts. “And I know it sucks. But it’s San’s money on the line, and clearly he’s been able to forgive her.”

Seonghwa swallows hard. “And even if I haven’t been able to do the same, even after all she’s done to me I’m willing to swallow my own feelings to get this journey done. For them.”

Them. By that Seonghwa means San and you. You, after all that you have done - to Seonghwa, to San, to Wooyoung himself - he’s still choosing you.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t, Hwa!” Wooyoung says, and now he’s shouting. It’s good. The anger provides him comfort, something familiar to latch onto. “She used you! She used all of us! I know you have this deep-seeded issue of thinking everyone and everything has good in them, but open your eyes! Not all that glitters is fucking gold! A pair of pretty eyes doesn’t repair what she’s done, it doesn’t mean that she isn’t rotten inside!”

“Just as you are too,” a voice reminds him within his mind, but he ignores it.

Seonghwa opens his mouth to cut back, but Wooyoung is not finished. “She lied through her teeth, and you’re really just going to let it slide?  Keep quiet because it’ll make things easier for her? For the sake of the gods, grow a spine!”

“Why do you care so much about what I do?” Seonghwa yells back, taking a step towards Wooyoung. Seonghwa’s fist is clenched at his side, and for a moment Wooyoung thinks that Seonghwa might actually hit him. He almost wishes he would.

“Why do you care if I forgive her? Why do you care so much about whether I let people walk all over me? Why do you care?”

Wooyoung doesn’t know why he does it.

Maybe it’s the way his mind still buzzes from moments prior, hazy and foggy and unable to think of anything beyond his anger. Anything beyond the way his heart pounds rapidly and vision blurs with an anxious haze.

Maybe it’s the way Seonghwa’s words sting, more than Wooyoung wants to admit, and he wishes to prove the man wrong. Show him that it’s not so simple. Win, in a strange and possibly fucked up way, but win nonetheless.

Or maybe, more than anything, it’s the way Seonghwa is looking at him. Big brown eyes scanning his face, full of anger, but also passion. Desperately searching for an answer, as if there will be a solution to the enigma that is Wooyoung hidden somewhere on the elemental’s face.

Wooyoung knows what the answer is that Seonghwa seeks.

It’s the part of himself that Wooyoung has never admitted exists. The part that he has shoved down, smothered, pretended wasn’t there. The part that flutters at the sound of Seonghwa whining at his teasing. The part that stalls when Seonghwa lets his hand fall onto Wooyoung’s shoulder, thinking nothing of it, simply trying to get the elemental's attention or leaning in to point out something in the distance.  

The part that broke the first night you and Seonghwa spent together. Defeated, angry, and beaten down, crawling into his bed that night in a drunken stooper, aching at the thought of the elemental being intimate with someone. Well, someone else.

The part that he once again shoved away the next morning, and had every day before and has every day since.

It’s that part of himself that he’s dejected and ignored that now comes crawling to the surface, invited by Seonghwa’s searching eyes, that unleashes its presence in a way that will make itself known. That will ensure it will no longer be forgotten, that it cannot be ignored or subdued again.

That part of Wooyoung unleashes itself in the form of a kiss.

It’s a horrible one, teeth smashing into teeth as Wooyoung grabs onto the collar of Seonghwa’s tunic and roughly pulls the man into him. In fact, it’s less of a kiss compared to two faces smashing together, Seonghwa clearly not prepared for it, but the message is sent all the same.

Wooyoung holds him there for three seconds, which feel far more like an eternity as they pass by.

Then Wooyoung pushes Seonghwa off of him, letting go of the man’s collar as the blonde stumbles back.

For a moment they stand in silence, and it’s a deafening one. Seonghwa’s hand drifts up to his lips, grazing them, eyes wide as he stares at Wooyoung. He’s clearly in a state of shock, as he says nothing, just stares with his mouth parted open in disbelief.

“There,” Wooyoung breathes. “Do you get it?”

Seonghwa continues to stare at him. Then his eyebrows furrow together, and when he begins to speak, Seonghwa’s tone is incredulous. “Woo, what are you-”

“Forget it,” Wooyoung cuts him off, because he doesn’t want to know what Seonghwa is going to say. He doesn’t want to hear the empath call him crazy, ask him what the hell he’s thinking.

Because Wooyoung doesn’t know the answer to that either. The mind-numbing fog has returned to his head, his heart racing even faster than it had before.

He needs to get out of here.

“Just go back to the tent, Hwa,” Wooyoung says, and then his feet are set in motion. He heads deeper into Bebbanburg, away from the Libaiyan tent. Away from you and San. Away from what he’s done, the irreversible mistake he just made.

He runs away, and this time Seonghwa doesn’t follow him.

“What were you thinking, what were you thinking, what were you thinking?” Wooyoung repeats the question to himself over and over again in his head, trying to make sense of what he’s done.

The look of bewilderment on Seonghwa’s face, followed by incredulity. Shock, then disbelief. Almost angry, and why shouldn’t he be? How could Wooyoung do something like this? Something so blatantly stupid and thoughtless?

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Wooyoung still cannot come up with an answer, because frankly, he wasn’t thinking. And he still can’t.

He turns down one of the many alley’s surrounding him, head buzzing, not a clue of where he’s going. All he knows is that it’s away, and for now, that is enough for him.

Wooyoung closes his eyes, hand trailing along the wall beside him as he runs. He feels silly, running with his eyes closed, but he cannot bring himself to keep them open. This way, the world around him fades. He can simply be moving, feel the air rush past him, and pretend that nothing happened.

There are no Libaiyan refugees a few alleyways over. He does not care for the Liabiyan princess, nor did he lose San a mere night ago. He did not reveal his feelings to a man he loves and ruin their entire friendship in one fell swoop.

He is merely running in the darkness, chest heaving for air, fingers scraping along the cobblestone wall.

Maybe, if he keeps running like this, he’ll actually have escaped it all.

Or maybe, running like this is not such an acceptable option, as it stops him from noticing the figure that has been following after him.

Wooyoung does not notice he is being followed until it is too late. Until he’s already been shoved sideways, face smacking into the stone wall beside him.

At the very least, the blows knock him from his stupor, and his eyes fly open as he stumbles. Whirling to face his attacker, fire ignites immediately within his hand, dancing in between his fingers.

However, the second he turns, he’s met with a swift punch to the jaw that catches him off guard. Mostly because it does not come from where he can feel the man beside him - who now pins Wooyoung’s wrist to the alley-wall - but from the other side.

It’s not one attacker, but many.

“Shit,” Wooyoung thinks to himself, spitting out the blood that fills his mouth, the metallic taste thick on his tongue and gritty between his teeth. Eyes searching the darkness around him, his attackers are nothing more than blurs within the night, and he gives the one in front of him a swift kick to the groin. The man lets out a long string of curses, and Wooyoung uses the opportunity to try and rush forward.

It’s of no use, as another man (or two, maybe even three?) pins his wrists to the wall.

It’s not the most efficient way to capture a person, as it leaves their legs functional to kick and mouth free to spit, bite, or scream for help.

Unless, of course, you’re capturing an elemental.

Wooyoung tries to summon fire into his hands, and while it manages to dance around his fingers, the inability to move his arms stops him from managing anything greater. He tries to summon the flame with only his mind, staring at his hand with sheer determination. He knows it’s possible, he’s done it before. Once. The night Yeonjun died.

Of course, he didn’t exactly mean to, and apparently it isn’t the sort of thing he can do by will, as his hands remain barren of flame.

Instead, he’s left helpless, pulling against the grips of the men that bind him. His eyes dart amongst the shadows that surround them, and he tally’s roughly ten of them, although he’s certain that there’s more as he hears shouts from down the alley-way.

One of the men’s hands digs into Wooyoung’s hair, pulling his head forward before slamming it back into the stone-wall. Hard.

Stars dance before Wooyoung, and a darkness creeps into the corners of his vision. He continues to kick out in front of him, although each swing is far weaker than the last, as the pain leaves him sluggish.

The man yanks on his hair again, before slamming his head back into the wall once more, and suddenly Wooyoung is on the ground.

He doesn’t remember crumpling, but the stone pathway is cold against his back, so he must have passed out for a moment. He opens his eyes, vision swaying as he tries to make out the men surrounding him.

He can vaguely spot the face of the man above him. Middle-aged, with a dark beard and intense eyes. He speaks to someone beside him, although Wooyoung’s mind is too muddled to make out the actual words.

Likely not thugs then, as they aren’t even bothering to hide their identities. Besides, there’s too many of them to be a regular mugging. Too conspicuous, so it must be targeted.

But if it’s targeted, then who are they?

“W-who?” He asks, because the full sentence is far too much effort. His words are slurred and he sounds drunk. Which to be fair is an awful lot like how he feels.

The man above him doesn’t answer, but instead places a hand on Wooyoung’s throat, silencing him. With his other two hands, the man pins Wooyoung’s wrists to the ground.

No, no, that doesn’t make any sense. He can't have three hands. Which means it must be somebody else pinning his wrists to the ground, as well as another that slips the cloth bag over his head. How many were there again?

By the god’s Wooyoung really can’t think right now.

“Knock him out,” one of the men speaks from above him. Now that Wooyoung can make out.

Then the world goes black.

“And he seriously didn’t tell you where he was going?” San asks, arms crossed as he leans against the training post outside of the men’s tent. It’s covered in grooves, clearly crafted by a sword, and one in the hands of someone not too pleased. A testament to San’s opinion on Woo not returning to the refuge last night.

“I already told you,” Seonghwa replies. His tone is also frustrated as he sits at an outside table, fingers tapping anxiously in rhythm with his jittering leg. “No. He didn’t.”

“He just took off?” San repeats, and you can understand why Seonghwa is becoming a bit annoyed. It’s also the third time you’ve heard San ask, although you have a feeling the swordsman isn’t actually expecting the answer to change. He simply wants to hear it again, to let him fuel the flame of his annoyance. “Without a word? Without a reason? Out into a city we’re currently being hunted in?”

Seonghwa’s eyes shift to the ground. “Yes.”

“And you let him?”

Seonghwa scowls at this. “What did you want me to do? You know Woo, he’s going to do what he wants no matter what anyone says or thinks.”

Seonghwa has been in a sour mood all morning, and something tells you there may be a little more to Woo leaving than he may be letting on. However, now is not the time to ponder what it might be, nor is it the time to start a fight. You simply need to find him.

“Let’s not start bickering with one another just because Woo’s not around to start it,” you say, attempting to remedy the argument before it can start. Fortunately, neither of the men are overly confrontational, at least not with each other.

“You’re right,” San sighs, turning to Seonghwa. “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed, I know it’s not your fault.”

Seonghwa gives San a sort of half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before staring back down at his shoes. He appears to immediately lose himself in thought, knee bouncing anxiously.

Yeah, something definitely happened last night.

“This isn’t like him,” San says, pulling his sword out from his sheath and spinning it around in his hand. A nervous habit. “Staying out for the night, sure. But he’s always back by the next day. Always.”

With morning long past, the sun high in the sky with the arrival of late noon, San’s statement of “always” is replaced with “until today”, and a sense of uneasiness passes through you.

Something is wrong. You can feel it.

And with both San’s sword spinning in his hand and the sound of Seonghwa’s fingers tapping the table, you know that they can feel it too.

“I think we should go looking for him,” you say, expecting immediate approval. Instead both men look at you, and San shoots Seonghwa a side glance, to which the empath returns.

“What?” You ask, uncomfortable at the fact that it appears they’re both in on something you’re not.

San sighs. “You shouldn’t come.”

“What?” You say, this time with far more anger than confusion. “If Woo’s in danger then of course I’m going to come-”

“If Woo’s in danger then it’s likely because of the men who are looking for you,” San cuts you off, and while his tone is not accusatory, it is pointed.

You prepare a rebuttal, but it dies on your lips. San is right.

If the black-clad men have done something to Woo, then you going looking for him is likely exactly what they would want for you to do. While the stubborn part of you wants to go anyway, put Woo’s safety before your own. Be daring, bold, and perhaps a little stupid, just as Woo is in the face of danger, you know that this is not an option.

You need to get to Kuroku, and if you aren’t yet certain of the danger Woo may be in, you cannot afford to take such blatant risks.

“Alright,” you say, tone defeated as Seonghwa rises to his feet, San making his way towards the path leading outside of the refuge.

You don’t manage the next words until they’ve already left. Leaving you alone, face shrouded by your hood, suddenly aware of the wind’s chill nipping at your skin. The seasons are turning.

“Good luck.”

They are back sooner than you expected.

You sit at a table with Yeji, playing a game of Skirmish. A traditional Libaiyan game meant for children, due to the fact it has few rules and never really ends, so it can keep them occupied for hours. You didn’t particularly want to play, but Yeji said it might help to keep your mind distracted. You figured it was worth a shot.

It didn’t work.

However, it doesn’t matter, as when both San and Seonghwa approach from down the refuge’s path, the cards are forgotten. Tossing your deck to the side, you give San a look, one that asks: “Any luck?”. Although, you’re fairly certain of the answer, as there is no Woo in tow behind them.

San does not give you a look of his own. In fact, he does nothing. He simply stares back at you, a dead look to his eye.

It’s that look, the emptiness of it, that tells you something has gone wrong.

“What happened?” You ask as he approaches, although San does not reply. Instead he gives Seonghwa a fleeting glance, and the blonde meets it. His own expression is not as empty as San’s. In fact, it is the opposite. Brimming with emotion, Seonghwa’s eyes hold worry, mouth drawn tight, jaw clenched. A look of nothing less than pure fear.

“Seonghwa?” You ask, your own worry settling deep in your chest. Something has gone wrong, but what, and how badly?

The blonde doesn’t answer you with words, instead he moves towards the table. You hadn’t noticed before, but he holds something in his hands. The paper is a light tan colour, the size also familiar, and you recognize it to be one of your wanted posters. Immediately you're confused, as why would Seonghwa show you one of these? You’ve already seen dozens of them plastered all over Bebbanburg.

However, as he lays it down onto the table, the answer is blatantly obvious.

The paper is smeared with blood. The red stark against its light colouring, it doesn’t coat the poster fully, but is rather smothered haphazardly, the semblance of fingerprints notable. It’s testament to a job done quickly, as whoever did this did so with one purpose: to get a message across.

The message is made even more clear by the thick, dark lock of hair tied to the corner of the page.

Woo’s.

Beneath the lock of hair is writing, scrawled in black ink.

The Concursos Mountain Pass.

Three Days.

Wooyoung awakens to the back of his head pounding in a violent, aching fashion. The world sways in front of him, and it takes him a moment to remember where he is exactly.

However, at the sight of tarps on all sides of him, the tent coated in darkness as only the light of the setting evening sun is able to get through, he remembers.

Right, the Libaiyan refuge.

Wooyoung groans, blinking as he tries to get his eyes to focus, his pounding head making his thoughts difficult to string together.

He moves his hand, attempting to wipe the sweat beading along his forehead, only to realize that he can’t.

His hands are tied.

Eyebrows furrowing together, he looks over his shoulder. The chains that tie his wrists to the chair that he sits in are thick and made of iron. If he tried to melt his bonds with the fire between his fingers, rather than catching fire like rope, they’d heat up and burn his wrists.

“What the…” He croaks out, throat raspy. Who would have tied him to a chair? Surely not Seonghwa or San. Not very likely you, as he couldn't see what good that would do you. Maybe your friend, the Libaiyan patriot? But why?

Wait.

Wooyoung’s brain pauses, mind doing a double-take as he stares at his bonds, noting bruising along his wrist. The massive purple marks are dark against his bronzed skin, and are almost line-shaped, as if someone had been holding him.

No, he’s not in the Libaiyan refuge, he’s somewhere else.

The memories of last night come rushing back to him. Running from the tent. The fight with Seonghwa. The subsequent kiss with Seonghwa.

His capture.

The shock of it is enough to cause Wooyoung to jolt awake, mind finally clearing even if the pain at the back of his head does not subside.

As if sensing Wooyoung’s realization, a man appears from under the tent-flap. He’s older, his face like a worn-glove, leathery and wrinkled in its places most used. His dark hair is cropped short, although his beard remains long, as well as scruffy.

Most notably, he’s dressed entirely in black armour. One of your predators.

“Ah, good. You’re awake,” the man says, and his voice is not as deep as Wooyoung expected.

“Who are you and-”

“Don’t speak. Not everyone has arrived yet,” the man cuts him off dismissively. “Besides, we’ll be the ones asking the questions.”

“Oh, my mistake, I thought-”

Wooyoung doesn’t know why he is surprised by the slap, but he is. Maybe because he hadn’t even had the chance to say the insult he was planning yet. Usually the hit would at least come afterwards.

These men, they aren’t playing around, that is clear.

His cheek stings, and he can imagine the bright red mark appearing along his skin as more men in dark armour appear from under the tent-flap. Wooyoung is surprised by the amount of them that manage to crowd into the space, almost a dozen.Then again, it is a big tent. Mostly empty, other than a small table in the corner, scattered with a variety of knick-knacks and spices that seem non-sensensical. Lunadore pollen, silver beads, Alagor Root, and a bunch of other rare ingredients the Wooyoung does not have time to make sense of, although set him on edge nonetheless.

If they plan to torture him, the table should be full of knives. Hammers. Maybe a few pliers to pull off his fingernails. Not plants.

The man who slapped him - their leader, it seems - clears his throat, and the group of men fall silent. Each of them turn to face Wooyoung, eyes glinting with something dark, something that says that they know more than he does.

Wooyoung makes sure to give each of them in turn a glare.

“I’m sure you know who we are by now,” the man says.

Wooyoung considers playing dumb, maybe earning himself a matching slap on the other cheek. However, he needs information, which means at least for now he must play along.

“You attacked the Libaiyan castle. Killed their king,” Wooyoung answers, meeting the man’s gaze. His eyes are sharp, intimidating, and Wooyoung makes sure not to look away. Not to show any fragility. Even if he has been made into the weakest in the room, he need not show it.

“People have been calling you The Dark Army,” Wooyoung says, and then because he can’t help himself, adds: “Cute name. Very scary. Did you come up with it yourselves?”

The man doesn’t answer his question, but instead smirks. “If you know who we are, I’m sure you also know what we’re looking for.”

You. That’s the answer the man wants. But Wooyoung won’t give that to him. “Power?” He ventures instead. “Glory? Access to the king’s many bejeweled robes?”

The man steps forward, grabbing Wooyoung's face in his hand. His fingers squeeze Wooyoung’s jaw, so much so that it not only hurts, but prevents him from speaking.

“Enough playing coy,” the man says. He still does not seem angry, face blank and tone almost bored as he grips Wooyoung’s face between his fingers. “Tell me where she is.”

He eases his grip just enough to let Wooyoung speak. “Where who is?”

The man’s grip tightens once again, fingernails digging into the elemental’s skin, and Wooyoung forces himself not to wince. “The girl you’ve been running all over Burovia with. The princess turned convict. Ring any bells?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wooyoung manages. At this the man lets go of his jaw, but it’s only to deliver another slap that burns along his cheek. The man grips his jaw again, and Wooyoung struggles to focus on the man’s face, blinking away the stars that dance across his vision.

“Yes, you do,” the man says, and this time his tone is almost soft, gentle as he attempts to coax out an answer. Somehow it’s far more unsettling than the blankness. “Is she with the refugees? At one of the hostels, or even a tavern?”

“I told you, I don’t know,” Wooyoung says through gritted teeth. This time the man does not slap him, but instead grips his hair as he brings Wooyoung face down into his knee. Pain radiates from his nose through the rest of his face, and when the man lifts him back up, it takes Wooyoung a moment to register the man’s face before him through the blurriness.

It’s not until now that Wooyoung realizes the severity of the danger that he is in.

They want him to hand you over to them, and Wooyoung can’t do that.

But why can’t he do that? It would be the easiest thing to do. Nobody would blame him, after everything that you’ve done, especially if it came down to choosing between his own life or yours. San and Seonghwa would understand.

You are the Libaiyan Princess. Your family sent him to the orphanage. Turning you in would rid himself of the volatile confusion that has plagued him, it would fulfill the dream that his younger self wished for every night and morning. So why can’t he do it?

He knows the answer. How he feels towards you has grown beyond hatred. It’s grown beyond mere toleration for San and Seonghwa’s sake. It’s grown beyond the excuses he’s been telling himself for weeks.

He’s not going to hand you over to them to die, no matter what that may mean for himself. Unfortunately, what that may mean for himself is not looking good.

“You’re going to tell us,” the man states, not to persuade, but to simply state as fact. “It’s just a matter of how much you’re willing to put yourself through before you do.”

“Well I have nothing but time,” Wooyoung answers, grinning, and he knows his teeth are bloody. Can feel the grittiness on his teeth, or maybe that’s still from the night before.

The man smiles back. “You have three days.”

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow. “Because I’m just such lovely company?”

“Because that’s how long we’ve given her to come find you.”

Wooyoung pauses at this, and he knows he’s shown a glimpse of weakness. How did they get a message to you? Is he bluffing?

Would you really be stupid enough to come after him?

“Nobody will come,” Wooyoung says, and even he can hear the uncertainty in his voice. Surely you wouldn’t come after him. Not when you’re so close to Kuroku, to San’s freedom. You have to keep going, there’s no way you, San, and Seonghwa could take on a dozen armed and highly trained men, especially considering there’s more of them out there somewhere. It would be pointless, a suicide mission.

But Wooyoung also knows that none of you would leave him behind to die.

“That’s fine,” the man says with a shrug. “Either she comes to us, or we go to her with the information you’ll give us. It doesn’t matter.”

“You aren’t going to be able to torture anything out of me,” Wooyoung says with a scoff, tilting his chin up, defiant. “Pain? Yeah, I’ve been through my share.”

The corner of the man’s lip curves upward, eyes gleaming. “I know. That’s what they told me.”

Wooyoung frowns. They?

The man chuckles at Wooyoung’s weary expression, finally letting go of his hold on the elemental’s jaw. The group of soldiers step back, creating a pathway for him as the man heads over to the table covered with rare ingredients and spices.

The man begins to fiddle around with them, although what exactly he’s doing Wooyoung can’t make out, his vision obscured by the other men standing before him.

“Do you know what they say about those whose body cannot be broken?” The man calls over his shoulder, and Wooyoung catches a glimpse of what is in his hand: a small bowl and mallet, which he uses to grind down the Alagor Root.

“No,” Wooyoung answers, wary.

“Break their mind instead,” the man states, holding up a small vial of purple liquid that Wooyoung cannot identify, before pouring into the bowl. A strange, dark and odorous smoke wafts up from the concoction. It smells like something burning, although what exactly Wooyoung cannot place. That is, until he can. It’s burnt flesh. It reminds him of the infirmary tent, of his scorched arms.

An inkling of fear settles into Wooyoung’s chest as he becomes increasingly aware of the bonds on his wrist. He can’t move, run, fight back, or do anything, really.

For a man with so much power, he’s grown accustomed to never feeling powerless. For a moment, it’s like he’s thirteen again. At Warden’s disposal and no fire to call his own.

The man places the empty vile back down on the table, before grabbing something else Wooyoung cannot see, although he can hear the sizzling noise it makes as he adds it to the bowl.

Wooyoung cannot take the silence any longer, his curiosity - or better, fear - overtaking him. “What are you doing?” He asks.

Instead of answering him, the man begins to mutter something beneath his breath, making a strange circular motion with his hand above the bowl, which he has set back down on the table. Wooyoung cannot make out what he is saying, but the way the words leave his lips is almost rhythmic, like a priest delivering a chant.

Wooyoung scowls, opening his mouth to interrogate the other men around him as to what the hell is going on, but the words die on his tongue. He knows what the man is doing.

It’s part of the Old Faith. Old Magic.

Dark magic.

Wooyoung has never been a devoted servant to the gods. In fact, for all of his life he’s hated them. He hated them as a child for giving him a gift he could not use. He hated them as a teenager for cursing him with the power to destroy everything he held dear. He hates them as an adult for idly standing by as all of the horrible events of his childhood tumbled down one after the other.

However, even with his hatred towards the gods, he’s always considered worshiping them to be far more understandable than the Old Faith. More particularly, the Old Magic aspect.

It’s a breach of order. If the gods blessed the gifted with their powers, then Old Magic defies that. It’s taking from the earth what was not given to you. It’s blasphemous. Immoral and unnatural. At its very core wrong.

Wooyoung tugs at the chains around his wrists, which clatter in protest. Panic begins to rise in his chest, as one thought fills his head: “What the fuck are they going to do to me?”

The man finishes his chant, before digging into his pocket and pulling out a miniature knife. He uses it to create a small cut along the tip of his finger, holding it above the bowl as a drop of blood collects around the wound, before dropping into the potion.

Smiling to himself in satisfaction, the man takes the bowl with him as he heads back towards Wooyoung. Stopping before him, the man takes a moment to meet the elemental’s eyes, that glimmer of darkness potent within his gaze.

Wooyoung does not look away, but by the gods, he wants to.

“Well,” the man says. “Open up.”

Wooyoung keeps his mouth shut, lips pursing together. He can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, feeling its thump throughout his entire body. He can’t drink that. He isn’t sure what it will do, but he knows that its something horrible.

It will break his mind. That is what the man had said.

And while Wooyoung has always had confidence in his abilities, perhaps even relied on himself more than he should, for the first time that confidence falters.

“So this is what it takes for you to be quiet,” the man jests, earning a few chuckles from the others around him. “Good to know.”

When Wooyoung doesn’t reply, the man nods to a couple of the soldiers beside him. “Open his mouth.”

Four of the men approach him, and Wooyoung fights against the bonds of his chair, even if he knows it’ll be pointless. The chains against his wrists and ankles hold him still, and as two of the men grab his shoulders to stop the chair from rattling, he’s left with nothing but twisting his face away from the men who grab at him.

Hands blur across his vision as he feels one of the men press an arm to his throat. Another digs into his scalp, pulling his hair in order to bring his head back and face upwards. Fingers claw at the crevices of his face, digging beneath his cheekbones, into his ears, scratching along his lips.

It’s overwhelming, but Wooyoung stays focused, repeating over and over again in his mind, “Don’t open your mouth, don’t open your mouth, don’t open your mouth.”

It’s not until the elbow pressing into his throat has been there for a little too long that Wooyoung registers that he needs to breathe. Black lines creeping into the corners of his vision, head beginning to feel foggy, he does his best to ignore it.

Until he can’t any longer. Against his mind’s will, when the man removes his elbow from the elemental’s throat, Wooyoung gasps for air.

The men do not waste the opportunity.

Fingers dig themselves into his mouth, and while he attempts to bite down on them, their force is too strong as the many hands pull back his cheeks. Limbs bound, hair pinned, and face pulled back, he’s left helpless as the man with the bowl approaches him.

As the man lifts the bowl above the elemental’s face, a smile grazes over his lips, and Wooyoung knows that he is enjoying this.

The liquid burns as it pours down his throat, rubbing like sand-paper along his tongue. It tastes familiar. Like stale bread, but worse. Rotten with mold. Wooyoung gags but the man does not stop, not until the final drops fall from the bowl and into his open mouth.

The men do not release him until he swallows the concoction, and he feels it as it settles down into his gut, twisting and turning like cheap whiskey.

Wooyoung attempts to catch his breath, chest heaving and sweat beading along his forehead as he looks at the man before him. He continues to smile that awful, wretched grin, empty bowl in hand.

“See? Now that wasn’t so hard,” the man says, for no other reason but to rub salt in the wound.

Wooyoung spits on his shoes.

The man does nothing, merely takes a few steps back as he continues to watch Wooyoung with an analytical gaze, as if observing whatever the hell is supposed to happen. For a few moments, Wooyoung feels nothing but the tension that hangs in the room as all of the men stare at him. He feels like a monster in a cage, like one of those griffin’s from a traveling circus he saw passing through Gloria many years ago. Undeniably dangerous, but stripped down to a mere display for people to gawk at.

Then he notices it. It doesn’t start as much, more of a feeling in the back of his mind than anything else. An uncomfortable tingling sensation creeping through him, like an itch beneath his skin, little prickles of worry like ants tunneling through his veins.

He blinks, and his vision goes blurry.

The men in front of him transform into foggy statues and he blinks again, but instead of focusing it only gets worse. He swallows hard, only to find his throat has gone dry, the saliva refusing to go down.

Heat settles itself in his gut, rising into his chest as an aching sensation washes through him. Wooyoung lets out a low whine, one that under any other circumstances would humiliate him, but he can’t bring himself to worry about that right now. Not when his body feels as if it’s rejecting him.

“What did you do to me?” Wooyoung asks, and it comes out as a hoarse whisper. The man hums softly, reaching forward to hold Wooyoung’s chin. This time his grip is gentle, and Wooyoung wants to slap it away, but he doesn’t have the strength. In fact, if it weren’t for the man holding his head up, he’s certain his chin would have fallen down to his chest. Maybe it already had, Wooyoung doesn’t remember.

“This is the easy part, Jung Wooyoung,” the man says, and Wooyoung swears that that is the first time the man has said his name. Although the worry is replaced by agony as another ripple of pain rattles through him.

“Remember. You tell me what I want to know, I’ll make it stop,” the man says. “You’d be wise to accept that offer.”

Wooyoung blinks up at him, and he thinks thaf tears stain his eyes, although his vision is too foggy to notice a difference. “And if I don’t?”

“I don’t know,” the man says, giving a soft, condescending thumb-stroke along his cheek. “They always tend to comply.”

You cannot sleep.

The tent feels crammed, even though you’re well aware that there’s more than enough space. Yeji sleeps soundly, a few feet away and face turned from you as the peaceful sighs of deep slumber escape her lips. It is dark, only the faintest hint of moonlight seeping through the tent’s thin fabric, and yet it feels too bright.

You do not wish to sleep. There are things to be done. This is no time for rest.

They have Woo.

The men you’ve been fearing this entire journey. The ones that ambushed your father, that killed Mingi, that besieged your castle and robbed your life right out from under your feet. The men that have made you paranoid, always keeping one eye over your shoulder, creating wariness with each new city and step you have taken.

The men you have feared would kill you, they have taken him instead.

And somehow that is so much worse.

It’s not something you’d anticipated, always having assumed that if the black-clad men were to find you, you would be the one to face the consequences. The idea that travelling with the three men was putting them in the crossfire of the mysterious army hadn’t occurred to you. After all, it’s your wanted posters on every city street, not theirs.

How stupid you had been, and now Woo is gone. Captured by your family’s assassins, and only the god’s know what sort of danger he is in.

It’s your fault. It’s you they really want, he is just a pawn in their greater game. You’ve been outplayed, and Woo is the one forced to pay the price of your failure.

They could be torturing him for information. You know the sorts of things powerful men do to prisoners, having heard whispers about it in your halls, the dungeons located deep beneath the castle. Using a whip to lash the back until there's more blood left than flesh, spending hours drowning them within a bucket of water, pouring vials of liquid metal along the skin. Maybe one of them is a sadist, and Woo’s face is blistered and burnt beyond repair.

Maybe he’s already dead.

You roll over, eyes accustomed enough to the darkness that you can make out the ceiling of the tent above you. Although really, what you see is Woo, pleading for mercy as one of the black-clad men delivers the final blow. Woo goes silent, his eyes still open, and you know that it is over. He is gone.

Another person you care for, dead.

You cannot just sit here like this and let that happen. However, while you were prepared to head to the Concursos Mountain Pass the moment Seonghwa placed the message down in front of you, both he and San urged caution.

“This is clearly a trap,” San had said, wrapping a hand around your wrist to stop you from heading down the path towards the refuge’s exit. “They’re going to be prepared, which means we need to be. We need to come up with a plan before we do anything.”

“We have three days,” you snapped back, frustrated. “Yeji said the journey is at the very least a full day’s ride. We don’t have the time to sit here and twiddle our thumbs.”

“Then we have a day and a half to come up with something,” San replied, tone calm but also curt. He was not entertaining the possibility of going now, no matter how much anger you added to your glare. “Maybe we can form a group of some of the other refugees and leave together.”

“There’s only two horse’s between the entire refuge,” you cut back. “We cannot make it in time by foot. There’s no chance of us building our own army, if that’s what you're implying.”

“We’ll figure it out,” San said, still not budging. However, beneath his steady gaze, you could see the faintest hint of worry. Of doubt. Of knowing that there may have been no other option but to go alone, although he was not ready to admit it. Not ready to acknowledge the truth that weighed down on each of your shoulders.

The fact that it may come down to Woo’s life, or your own.

Thus, a second truth sat just as heavy. He would choose Woo. They both would.

It’s not until this moment, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, that you realize you would choose Woo too.

You will not have him die for you. You will not have the black-clad men take anything else from you. Not him. Not like this.

If they are to kill you, let it be your own doing. Not ambushed for the money they have placed on your head, or killed silently in an alley-way along the streets of Bebbanburg. You will not be your father, stabbed at his own celebration, unaware of what was coming. If you are to die, let you come to them with your sword in hand, fighting for a man who - even when you haven’t deserved it - fought for you.

Rising to your feet, you pull the blanket off of you, heading towards the tent flap. Stopping in place, you turn back, watching Yeji’s sleeping silhouette, chest rising and falling peacefully.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and it is not only to her, but to all of them. All of the Libaiyan’s uprooted from their homes, left to wander Burovia with no kingdom to call home. They had finally been reunited with their princess, only for you to leave them once more. It is selfish. It is what your father would consider an abandonment of responsibility.

Maybe you are abandoning your royal duty, or perhaps you are fulfilling your duty to another.

Either way, it must be done.

Slipping out from under the tent flap, you can hear San and Seonghwa talking within their own tent, though you cannot make out what they are saying. Good, they're busy. They will likely not notice you’re gone until morning.

Scanning the field, the man continues to sing by the fire, and it is the same song as before. Lute in hand, he serenades the men and women surrounding him, although the number has depleted under the blanket of the night.

As you approach the horse tied to a nearby tent-pole, you sing along quietly beneath your breath, to the words you have known your entire life.

“My love for whom I do come home,”

“I’ve been bathed in scars, both body and soul,”

“And while I’ve returned beneath darkened gloam,”

“Without you this place may never be whole.”

Although, while you may sing his words, unlike the man within the song you will not be so passive.

You will find Woo, and you will bring him home. Even if you do not come back with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next chapter.

[glorysalazar]

No Duolingo, no problem

Jere Pöyhönen / Käärijä x Fem! Reader

Summary: You moved to Finland a few weeks ago and can't seem to feel at home: you're starting at a new job, you don't understand the language, you're kind of going through a break up... One tired and cold evening you head into the first bar you can find and briefly meet a cute guy you can't stop thinking about for the next few weeks. You try to forget about him, but when you go back to the same bar for some random gig your coworkers have invited you to go to, you find him again. [This takes place way before Eurovision]

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: English isn't my first language and I got a little lazy mid writing. Also they smoke a vape oops (seriously now don't do it it's shit for your health). Maybe smut implications at the end?

A/N: I didn't know what to name this lmao. I cannot believe I wrote fanficiton for the first time in YEARS because I fell in love with a Finnish guy after watching Eurovision. Anyway, I noticed an enormous shortage of Jere fics and decided to risk my final exams to serve the people. I hope it's worth it! Also apologies if the Finnish translation is shit I used a random website for it lol

Glossary:

"Anteeksi, pudotit takkisi" -> "Sorry, you dropped your coat"

"Jere, istuimme takapöydässä" -> "Jere, we are sitting at the back table"

"Olen tulossa" -> "I'm on my way"

"Hetkinen, kiitos!" -> "One moment, please!"

"Jere, sinun vuorosi on kymmenen minuutin kuluttua" -> "Jere, you're on in ten minutes"

"Minä menen nyt" -> "Coming"

"Hei kaikille, miten meillä menee tänään?" -> "Hi everyone, how are we doing today?"

"Kiitos, Mikko, arvostan sitä todella" -> "Thank you, Mikko, I really appreciate it"

"Miten uskallat tulla tänne?" -> "How dare she come here?"

"Meidän on hyödynnettävä sitä" -> "We'll have to make use of it"

"Mikä on sana?" -> "What's the word?"

...

It was cold. Hell, it was colder than she could have ever imagined before coming here. Sure, she had checked the country's temperatures before moving, researched online about what to expect for someone who was used to easy winters, had bought the fuzzy-fur-on-the-inside-boots and the heavy jacket and all that was recommended to face the never-ending snowing. But still, it somehow hadn't been enough.

A job offer and the need to find some new purpose to latch onto had led (Y/N) here. Now three weeks in, with no friends and hardly a place to call her home had helped regret start to settle in. So many things felt out of her control: the way her colleagues seemed to think she was a mess, the cashiers at the supermarket sighing because she still didn't understand the language, everyone from her hometown rolling their eyes when she announced she was leaving in a way that meant you're not gonna make it.

Yet being thrown outside her comfort zone, and being forced to move on however she could manage, made her feel at least some kind of thrive. Which was far more than she had back home.

As she walked down the street for some place to find shelter in, hands shaking and breaths almost uneven, a neon sign caught her attention. Even though she couldn't figure out the name, it looked like a pretty okay bar. She didn't need much convincing anyway; anything would do to get out of this freezing gale. She made her way in.

The warmth was a instant relief. Stripping down from the many layers of upper clothes, she took a quick glance to check the place out. Not many people, which was fair for a Wednesday evening. There was low music playing, mild chatter and a bunch of people sitting alone in the stools, which was a relief. At least she wouldn't be the only one.

As she ordered a beer (one of the few phrases she had made sure to master) she felt her hands come alive again. The beverage came along and she took a long, much anticipated sip. It tasted significantly different from the brands she was used to, but it was just fine. Alcohol is alcohol.

Finally feeling at ease, she took her phone out and started mindlessly scrolling through social media to kill some time. It was still early in the evening since she had just gotten out from work. An extra challenging day is what had led her to wander outside for a bit instead of heading back to the dull apartment she hadn't even been able to decorate yet. Going home right after would've led her to start overthinking if this job was even right for her, if she had gone crazy by moving hundreds of kilometres away from what she's always known, if her ex-girlfriend had been right when she accused her of being too impulsive, if it would be such a bad thing to give it up already and leave—

"Anteeksi, pudotit takkisi", she heard a voice say behind her.

When she turned around to give her "sorry I still don't speak Finnish" speech, she was met with a blue-eyed, dark-haired, funky but sweet looking guy holding her jacket, which she now understood had fallen to the floor. It caught her by surprise that she somehow forgot how to speak for a brief moment.

"Oh! Thank you, I hadn't noticed it was on the floor" she ended up answering, taking the jacket back as the man handed it to her with a confused look in his eyes. "Sorry, I'm not from here. I don't speak Finnish yet" she added with a small chuckle.

"No, don't worry, Finnish, uh- hard language to learn" he answered through an amusing smile, with a thick accent and a clear struggle to speak English.

She half laughed at his answer. Until now, people hadn't been so kind about the language-barrier impediment. "Yes, it is a little bit", she followed, now taking in his appearance.

Painted nails. Double nose piercings. Earrings. Facial hair. A bowl cut? Interesting choice, but it suited him surprisingly well. Her brain decided through that brief examination: he was cute. Attractively cute.

"You can try Duolingo. I use for my English, but don't work very very well" the man said the second part more as a correction to himself, making both of them laugh from the random half advice. He tried to fix it: "Maybe for you works better".

"Maybe. I'll check it out. Thank you again" her response was going to be followed by an invitation for him to sit down with her, as she felt a sudden wave of boldness: I need to make some friends in this town or else I'll go crazy. But a group of three other guys that had come in after him caught her stranger's attention.

"Jere, istuimme takapöydässä", one of them said to him, while walking to a table at the back corner of the bar.

"Olen tulossa" he turned around to answer, then looked at her once more, "I go now with my friends. Enjoy your beer" he smiled and small-waved goodbye, as she copied his gesture. "Enjoy your evening".

That small interaction was enough for her to spend the next half hour looking up from her phone, which she had retreated to, to glance at him from time to time. His group of friends and him seemed to be having a good time, and she enjoyed the view of him. He looked like a very interesting person, too, and if she was being honest, she hadn't been struck by someone new in quite some time. Not by her neighbors, not by the people she was starting to coincide with at the grocery shop, not even by her co-workers.

She noticed him looking at her from time to time as well.

When her glass was empty and just as the clock on her phone struck seven, she got up and got prepared to face the freezing wind once again. At least it wasn't that long of a walk to her place.

She lingered for a moment before exiting the bar, then finally did so while warning herself not to get too caught up on the nice stranger she suddenly felt she was leaving behind. It was just a one minute interaction. You probably won't see him again. Quit this teenager act. Focus on the important tasks ahead of you.

It was already pitch black outside, snow accumulated on the sidewalks, the air was even colder than before.

Excitement started to bubble up in the pit of her stomach.

...

Two weeks had gone by and although she had been meaning to return to the bar, she just hadn't find the time to do so. Once the job's training period ended, the hectic rythm started. In her free time, when she wasn't taking care of the house or just resting, she was trying to find some language academy where she could actually properly learn Finnish. Cute guy had been right: Duolingo just didn't do the trick.

She had hoped he would appear around the neighborhood, that maybe he lived nearby. But there had been no luck. It was fine, though. She knew she would let go of it rather quickly at that point, it's not like she had been thinking about his addictive smile or pretty eyes or soft-looking hands. Not at all.

It was Friday, and some acquaintances from work she had managed to pull off had invited her to a small gig. She didn't even remember the musician's name nor did she know where it was going to be, but nevertheless she was happy to go and actually get to have some fun with other people. Who knows, cute guy might even be there.

She didn't even realize they were headed to the bar until they were right in front of it. Inside, a small stage platform had been set up and tables and chairs had been removed to make space for the audience. It wasn't very spacey anyway, the place could hold about a hundred people squeezed together tops.

"Huh, hadn't even thought of this place as a venue" she let her thoughts trail out loud.

"Have you been here before?" her coworker Aubrey, who she had slightly bonded with because she was also a foreigner, asked her. "Only once" the girl explained, already searching for a certain someone's face in the crowd. "So, who have you brought me to see tonight?" she asked, in the hopes of at least getting some conversation non-work related flowing. "I don't really know, coming here was Mikko's idea. He's always trying to get us into these weird small rap-rock Finnish bands, and listen, I've lived here for over a year now and I still don't really get the hype" Aubrey explained making both of them laugh "But it always ends up being fun when we go out" she added.

The rest of the group had moved forward to get a good spot near the humble stage, as Mikko babbled on and on about nonsense the two women couldn't figure out from the distance. "Hey, I'm going to the bathroom real quick. Mind saving me a place?" (Y/N) asked her colleague, who answered affirmatively.

She made her way through the crowd in between "excuse me's" and "sorry's" but got there with quite ease. One of the two toilet doors had a sign that read "Out of order", so she knocked on the one that was left to check if anyone was inside. A voice that sounded vaguely familiar came from the other side: "Hetkinen, kiitos!"

Nervousness suddenly struck her. Is this who I think it is?

When the door opened there was no doubt. Cute stranger was standing in front of her.

"Oh! Hello" he blurted out just as he saw her, sounding surprised. Today he was wearing eye makeup and bottom eyeliner, which suited him very, very well. He has such a pretty face.

She realized now she had not been able to get over this guy in the two weeks of not seeing him, even though she didn't even know his name.

"Hi" was all she could manage to say. She had been looking for him when she entered the bar but she was convinced he was not actually going to be there, "It's good to see you!" she added, as a way of avoiding an awkward silence.

"You as well. You, uh, you come to... concert?" he inquired, struggling to find the last word while pointing towards the direction where the stage was to make sure he was being understood.

She noticed he was wearing an all yellow outfit that consisted of corduroy pants and a button up. He looks good in it.

"Yes, some work friends brought me here. But if I'm being honest I don't even know who's playing" she confessed, slightly covering her mouth with one of her hands to joke around, as if she had spilled a dark secret. Stranger burst out laughing. His laugh was cute. "Do you know if he's good? I wanna know if I'll be wasting my time or not" she asked him, pretending to be a diva to keep his laugh going.

He had his arms crossed and his tongue between his teeth as he slightly giggled. "No, I think he's pretty ok. I think you will like, even if no understand" his answer was playful and accompanied with another small laugh. She continued joking around, this time putting her hands up in pretend self defense "Hey, I'll try my best. Maybe using Duolingo for two days actually did something" she shot back, realizing after saying those words that she had just told Mr. Stranger she had followed his advice.

He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head playfully "You did what I say to you" he stated. "Yes, but you were right. It's not really helpful. Now I just keep getting emails from the goddamn owl and feel scared that he's going to find me and kill me for not going back to the app" she explained exaggeratedly, which made their giggles grow bigger and even he bent his knees with laughter.

Their little chit-chatting was cut when a man who looked like he had been searching for someone stopped in his tracks at the beginning of the bathroom hall and shouted at them: "Jere, sinun vuorosi on kymmenen minuutin kuluttua". She turned around to look at the source of the voice and then back at stranger when he answered "Minä menen nyt". She wished she knew what they were saying, but she assumed it had just been his friend telling him to hurry up. Also, was Jere his name? She had heard it two times already.

"Someone's always calling out for you", she commented when they were left alone again. "It's because me popular, yes yes" he joked, putting a hand to his chest and shrugging. "Listen, I go now. Concert starting soon" he explained, pointing out to the stage's direction once again "I see you there?" he asked, eyebrows raised as he put a hand to her shoulder, looking into her eyes. His blue ones had her mind going blank for a moment. That seemed to happen a lot when he was around. "Uh- yeah, sure, see you there". He smiled again then moved past her to return to the hall. She stared at him leave as she opened the door to the bathroom and finally went inside, smiling to herself and biting her bottom lip.

She hurried back once she was finished not only in fear of missing out the start of the concert, but more so in fear of not finding him again. Aubrey raised her hand to catch her attention and she followed the lead back to the group. The place was packed, it was hot, and there was a lot of chatter going on.

"What took you so long?", Aubrey asked as she got to her side, just in front of the stage, "They're about to start". (Y/N) was standing on her tiptoes and turning her head in all directions. She had just talked to him and the bar was not that big: where the hell had he hid himself?

"There was a long line to the bathroom..." she started off distantly, then turned to face Aubrey "Hey, this is going to sound weird, but have you seen-" just when she was going to make the question, she noticed some people walking up to the stage and everyone started cheering.

As she looked up, she couldn't have been more dumbfounded.

It was him. Mr Stranger was the one performing tonight.

"Hei kaikille, miten meillä menee tänään?" he shouted out to the public, (Y/N) assumed as a way of greeting everyone. He took no time noticing she was right there, which made him grin even wider. "I see we have international people tonight. Good" he said while looking directly at her. She felt her coworkers eyes on her.

"Do you know him?" Aubrey whispered-shouted to her, "I- uh, no, yes? Briefly" she responded back as he continued on in Finnish. She remembered the question she had made him earlier and mentally facepalmed. This cheeky dude. Lying to her face just so he could later get her reaction.

Since there was no way of understanding what he said, she concentrated on what she could see. Two men behind him wearing pink shirts and shorts and sunglasses. A DJ table, no instruments. There was a sign hanging from the wall that read "Käärijä". Was that his artistic name? She was very intrigued by everything going on and wondered what genre he was going to play.

She had no idea what was coming.

As soon as he stopped talking and the music started playing, his demeanor changed. His stare became fiercer, his movements provocative and unleashed. He walked around the stage like he owned it, stared at the audience like he knew they would do whatever he asked them. Every beat before he started singing rumbled inside her, made her hold her breath in anticipation. She let it out once the words started to fall from his mouth.

The lyrics could have been shit for all she knew. His deep voice, the exotic pronunciation, the hard rapping from the boy who had seemed so sweet and wholesome but was now showing another side of him, the song's rhythm and tone. She was all in. So in, that her body started swaying to the sound almost like an automatic response, and jumped around alongside everyone else when the music demanded to do so.

"Ok, he's really good" she said to her coworkers as the crowd sung alongside him. "Mikko, you were right, he's really good" she insisted to the boy beside her, who was clearly enjoying himself. "I told you!" he answered amidst chanting, "Jere is my most talented friend". Oh, okay. Mental note taken.

As he performed his songs, (Y/N) couldn't help but admire the dedication Jere put on and the absolute fun he looked like he was having. Also, she realised he was at least kind of known around here, because people were singng alongside him.

The head banging, self touching, slightly undressing and sticking his tongue out only added more to his eclectic movements and gestures that made the show feel like a mix of energetic, passionate and, why deny it, lascivious state. Her eyes were glued to him in a capitative stare, that he would catch from time to time and hold for a few seconds. Then he would turn to his attention somewhere else, but a smirk would make a clear appearance on his face.

Whenever he finished a number, the loud clapping allowed him some time to take a sip of water. The clothes he was wearing and its material soon became unbearable, which lead him to take his shirt off completely. "Sorry, it is hot in here" he stated into the microphone pretending to excuse himself as a joke, as everyone in the room made a fuss about it. He was heavily sweating all over his face, neck and torso.

If she had previously been absorbed by him, at this point it was almost unbearable. She had not expected to see so much exposed flesh, and the pectoral tattoo nearly had her weak on her knees.

For some reason, freehing himself from his clothes somehow made him behave even wilder from then on out. He started getting closer to the front row, some even holding out their arms to interact with him, him receiving the gesture with no issue. The Fin looked so confident in what he was doing, it only made her feel even more attracted to him.

He moved so quickly (Y/N) didn't even have time to process when he positioned himself right in front of her, amidst performing a song, and full on stroked her cheek for a few lasting moments, all the while mainting direct eye contact. It was as if no one else had been around them, as if this instant had been theirs only. She didn't respond to the touch by touching him herself, since she couldn't find the strength to be as bold; but the breath hitching and swallowing saliva right after were a clear sign to Jere that he made her feel things. He would quite probably feel embarrassed about it later, but right now it made him feel close to powerful.

The whole gig ended on a high note, the applause was strong and lasting. (Y/N) clapped her hands so fast they even started hurting a little, and could understand through the noise that Jere was thanking everyone for coming out to see him. As he was about to exit the stage, some music started playing over the speakers as to signal that the performance was over and everyone could retreat to either leave the bar or get a drink and stay there for a longer while. As the people from the front row turned around and waited to have a chance to move, (Y/N) felt a hand on her shoulder.

Jere looked exhausted, but it also seemed like the whole night had riled him up. "You don't leave now?", he meant to ask, but came out more as a plead. She wouldn't even dream of doing so right now. "No, no, I'm staying" she rushed to answer. "Good. Wait for me?" he went on. She could only manage to nod her head yes. He smiled and quickly went "backstage" to freshen up.

"Okay, what the actual hell was that?" Aubrey took no time to pry her, "It did not look like knowing each other briefly". (Y/N) shrugged while putting her hands in the air and half laughing, not knowing how to beat those allegations.

"It's classic Jere. Finds a girl cute and cannot stop himself" Mikko chimed in, while grinning, "Now I understand, you must be the girl he saw a couple of weeks ago over here, right?"

"He's talked about me?" she said, a bit shocked, while Mikko lead the way for the three of them to go grab a drink. "Yes, well, now that I connect the dots, that evening you came here, it was a Wednesday, right? I came too, but it must've been after you left. When I arrived he was commenting it".

Some of the other coworkers were starting to leave, not without commenting the elephant in the room before grabbing the door. "You're gonna be the talk of the office now", Aubrey asserted, making Mikko laugh and (Y/N) grow redder by the minute. "I don't even- we haven't even talked that much, really. But watching him onstage was..." she trailed off, letting out a sigh and grabbing the drink Mikko offered her, thanking him in the process. "Yes, it's his special trait. That magnetism he holds is what's gonna get him places", he agreed.

"Okay, but does this whole act mean that he always does this? Like, does he take advantage of his concerts to mindlessly flirt with random people?" (Y/N) suddenly tried to rationalize the fast track of actions Jere was taking on with her. Sure, she liked him, and she really, really wanted to have some fun. Needed it, even. This bonding moment with Aubrey and Mikko right now, this non-work related, exciting chatter; the going out; as precipitating as it sounds she was starting to feel like she was finally making friends, establishing a life. But she also didn't want to be played around with.

"Ohhh, no, not necessarily" her coworker laughed, calming her down "Käärijä the performer is seductive, provocative, even uncontrollable" he took a sip from his drink, "But Jere the person is another story. Dude wouldn't even hurt a fly, I mean it" he reassured her. He then was about to say something else, but stopped on his tracks when they all noticed the man of the hour and the tow men who had performed with him coming over to them. However, he quickly commented to the girls the following before Jere could hear them: "If anything, he's the one who has been played around with".

Jere approached Mikko first, going in for a hug, which made total sense given the fact that they were friends. (Y/N) appreciated it, because his last comment had caught her by surprise. He had changed into some track pants and graphic loose t-shirt, and over all he already looked far more calmed down and back to his more, to put it some way, innocent self. Aubrey and (Y/N) exchanged a look before introducing themselves to the guys in pink, who had not changed their outfits. Their names were Jaakko and Aleksi.

"Hey, I recognize you. You were all in the bar that day I was here" she said as a realization. "Yes, we were planning tonight" Aleksi answered, "Did you like it?" he added, to both her and Aubrey.

While the four of them engaged in small talk, the girls understood that Mikko was congratulating his friend on his performance and Jere was thanking him, "Kiitos, Mikko, arvostan sitä todella", he said with appreciation on his face, closed smile and big puppy eyes (Y/N) couldn't ignore. With one last ruffle on his hair from Mikko, the two men stayed with one arm over the other's back and turned to the group.

"Alright, let's talk in English now so we can all understand each other..." Mikko started off. "I see you guys have already introduced yourselves, very good. Now let me introduce you girls to Käärijä himself, although maybe a certain someone doesn't need it" he playfully remarked, making Jere look away while hiding his face and (Y/N) roll her eyes. "Jere, these are (Y/N) and Aubrey from work. Aubrey, (Y/N), this is Jere" he played around using a formal tone and letting out of their embrace.

"Nice to meet you" Aubrey answered, shaking hands with him and gently pushing (Y/N) forward once she was done to signal her to do so as well.

"I finally know your name" he commented, making her chuckle, "Yes, I guess you do". Mikko and Aubrey swiftly moved to give them some space, going over to Jaakko and Aleksi, who were all in in the same unspoken plan.

"You like the show?" he seemed a bit nervous as he rested his elbow on the counter and signaled the waiter to get him a drink, while attentively listening to her answer, "Honestly, I'd never been to one quite like this. I mean, I've been to rock concerts and such, but this energy you guys put on stage was totally new for me. I really enjoyed it tho, you're really good" she sincerely said.

"Oh, thank you, really" Jere put a hand to his chest as to show gratitude, "It was first concert after months of not doing", he further explained, "So means a lot all people who come here, yes. I'm so happy for this, I was worried if not work well". He sounded so humble (Y/N) couldn't help but grow to like his personality even more. She was curious to know why he hadn't played in a way, but also didn't want to intrude, so she opted for another response. "Well you should be. We all had a blast".

"You understand anything I sing?" he wondered with a perky smirk, before taking a sip from the beer that had just landed in front of him. "I didn't need to", she let it out without giving it a second thought, almost as if this was the only real answer she could give, which to her felt absolutely true. He was shocked by it and spilled some of the drink out, quickly catching the dripping by covering his mouth with a napkin.

"Ah, I make fool of me now, great!" he tried to cover up by playing down the incident. She couldn't stop laughing out loud, some people even noticing the whole scene between the two of them, specially Mikko and company who laughed as well from a distance, "That's what you get for lying to me before" she joked, but grabbed a napkin as well to clean his shirt up, softly patting it on his chest. "Sorry, I wanted to surprise" he justified. It was in that moment that she noticed they were almost the same height. When her gaze moved upward from the stain she was cleaning up, his stare was way closer than she had thought. He carried on talking.

"Also, before, I hope I not make you... uh-, mikä on sana epämukavalle?" he looked over at Mikko for help regarding a language inquire.

"Uncomfortable"

"Yes, that" Jere said, "I hope I not make you uncom... uncomfortable when I, you know-" he tried to explain himself, struggling with the pronunciation. He stroked his own cheek to interpret what he attempted to say. "Oh! No no, don't worry, it was- it was okay. I liked it, actually", his relief was evident after she assured him. He let out a nervous giggle.

Then, something caught his attention. His gaze had travelled to the door, past (Y/N), and what he saw made his face turn dead serious, although also sad. Mikko, Aleksi and Jaakko very quickly noticed what was happening. Aubrey and (Y/N) also turned around to check it out: a girl was standing by the entrance looking for someone with a worried expression.

"Miten uskallat tulla tänne?" Jaakko expressed angrily. The three men addressed Jere, who suddenly was a loss of words and course of action.

"Ex alert" Aubrey whispered to (Y/N) while sipping from her drink's straw. "They're asking him if he wants to go talk to her" she informed her friend, which (Y/N) was thankful for. It was really tiring to not catch anything on her own sometimes. While the four men were talking to each other, deciding what to do next, (Y/N) grabbed Jere's arm and everyone's attention fell on her. She just couldn't stop strongly empathizing with him because she had also recently been through a break up and knew how shitty it was. Jere seemed more at ease when she talked, "Are you okay? Do you want to get out of here?" he looked past her again, everyone following his direction and realizing his ex was coming over to them. "I do, please", "Then we're getting out of here", (Y/N) decided, "You guys coming?" she asked the rest. "No, you guys go on. We'll make sure she doesn't follow" Mikko stated, thankful for her determination.

They said rushed goodbyes and (Y/N) got ahold of his hand to guide him towards the door. When they walked past her, she tried to talk, but they were quick to get out.

As per usual, it was freezing. They started to wander off to anywhere.

...

"I'm sorry about having to go"

They had found a comfortable spot in a park overlooking the town's river and had settled there. They had walked for a while, him trying to talk about anything else but his ex.

"Don't sweat it. I fully understand" she comforted him, then took the vape he had previously offered to her and took a puff before continuing, "I got broken up with three months ago... I hate to admit it, but it's part of the reason I ended up deciding to move here", she explained. He listened to her attentively, with a stern face.

The night was silent over here. It was only the sound of the stream and their hushed voices

"Can I ask why the break up?" he inquired, not wanting to pry on too much. "Only if I can ask why the break up", she made him chuckle. "Yes, of course" he accepted.

"She said I was too impulsive and that she couldn't trust me to maintain a steady and stable relationship, because I couldn't even do that with my own life" she sighed after her explanation and rolled her eyes.

"Wow" Jere said, disapproving look on his face "Hard thing to say".

"Yes, but honestly, I don't hold a grudge anymore. She had her right to think that way too. I do so too sometimes" she admitted, handing back the electronic cigarette, since they were taking turns to smoke.

"That's shit" he commented, which made them both laugh, "But I understand, too. "My ex, Sofia, that's her name, she uh- said she not approve of music career" his gaze moved upfront, "She said It's either me or music, and I think she not like my answer" Jere let out a half-sad cackle, "This is all I ever wanted to do. I loved her, I feel like I still do a bit, you know? But..." he nodded negatively before finishing the sentence, "I need someone who give support. What I told you before, the not doing concerts? A part of it was because I got, uh, insecure".

Silence fell between them as they both got lost in their own thoughts for a brief moment.

"You know, for someone who claims to not be good at English, you can maintain quite a deep conversation" her words made him belly laugh again. He looked at her and handed the vape once more. "Don't need Duolingo for that" he referenced. He was about to speak again but cut himself. "You can go on, it's fine", his doe-like blue eyes seeped cherishment.

"Oh, I not know, talking about ex was not in my plans when being alone with a girl I like" he made her blush, "I just thinking that, you know, I'm almost... mikä on sana" he struggled again with the language "Thirty year old?" he doubted if he had said it right, and the girl nodded to indicate him he had, "Thirty year old, and when younger I thought Oh, I achieve my dreams at thirty, have the family, all that... You know? And... nothing of that" he described, "My songs, some say that. But you not understand, so..." he added jokingly to lighten the mood, erupting laughter from her.

"Hey, I'm trying really hard to find a place where I can learn Finnish! Give me a break..." she defended herself, while the giggling from both of them died down. "But, just so you know, most of us feel this way too. Having your life figured out at thirty? That only happens to the lucky ones, I can assure you" she saw his tired expression and put a hand to his shoulder, "And by the way, you're crazy talented. We were all mesmerized by your performance. You can get to whatever place you want to be, and if you don't, well... It won't be because of your fault".

They were once again looking in each other's eyes. His gaze travelled down to her mouth. They were sitting close to one another as to avoid the cold wind. Her heart beat faster. How come did she feel like he had known him for such a long time if this was practically their first ever proper conversation? Yet she couldn't fight it. She had seen so many sides of him in such a short amount of time; she swore she'd never been that much of a romantic but the alcohol, mixed with how vulnerable they both felt in that moment and the fact that she was finally feeling at ease after more than a month of such a big change in her life, probably did the trick.

"Can- can I...?" he started nervously, but was interrupted.

"Yes"

Their lips crashed, finally killing the anticipation. Her hands cupped his face and his ones settled on her waist. She felt his long eyelashes touch her face, his beard tickled her jaw and his hoop piercing was cold on her nose. (Y/N) enjoyed feeling all these parts of Jere on her. He truly was so pretty. And suddenly, she wanted to make sure he knew just how pretty he was and how much he deserved to know it. The wave of boldness she had had to ask him to sit down with her those two weeks ago, but had been interrupted, came back as a stronger force.

When they separated to catch their breath, (Y/N) kept his face close to hers. He was panting through a timid smile and hot red burned his cheeks. She noticed her face doing the same thing.

"My apartment is a five minute walk from here" she suggested.

"Meidän on hyödynnettävä sitä" he whispered, hands going up and down her sides, and the Finnish language had never sounded so seductive to her.

"I didn't catch that",

"You don't need to. I will show you".

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

A hard bargain

Summary: You knew how he could get when he was focus on a case. But he forgot your ten year wedding anniversary, leaving you sitting alone over the dinner you had prepared to celebrate. And even though you were sad, disappointed, you couldn't find it in you to be mad at him when you woke up with him in your bed the next morning.

Pairing: Tim Rockford x fem!wife reader

Wordcount: 2k

Rating: E

Warnings: angst, fluff, kissing, smut (unprotected sex (though it's more implied than actually written out)), cockwarming, feelings

A/N: So this happened lmao I can't believe I wrote a fic about a character in a commercial

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics to get notified for new fic updates

You stared at the candle as it flickered once, twice before it finally went out. Your chin rested on your hand as you leaned with your elbow on the fully decorated table, the dinner, his favourite meal, cold and your glass of wine full, the bottle almost empty. 

You closed your eyes, breathing in deeply, releasing a long sigh as you exhaled, your eyes finding the clock across the room when they opened. 

00:34 am. 

Your husband had officially forgotten about your anniversary. 

Again. 

You did not ask for much. You knew he loved his job. He was one of the best detectives in his department. But he had the tendency to get lost in his cases. Sometimes you did not see each other for days, the only memory his arms around your body as he slipped into bed long after midnight, only to be gone again by the time your alarm went off in the morning. 

But you had seen his calendar for today. Your ten year wedding anniversary marked in big letters on top with dinner marked at 8 pm sharp. 

You and Tim had met twelve years ago on a blind date you had both been set up on by your closest friends. The rest, as they say, was history. 

You knew he loved his job, yet you couldn’t help feeling disappointed that he did not even talk to you today apart from two text messages, the messages you had sent him in the last three hours not even marked as read. Maybe he finally had a breakthrough in his latest case and forgot… No. That still wouldn’t excuse today. 

Emptying the glass of wine you got up from your chair, setting the empty glass down on the table, not bothering to clean the table. You shook your head, huffing once before you went out of the dining room, switching the lights off on your way upstairs into the bedroom.

You took a quick shower, drinking a big glass of water and taking a painkiller for the headache in the morning before you went to bed, cuddling your naked body against his pillow under the covers before you fell asleep.

—-

It was almost 3 am when he came home last night. He was so close to finishing his case, he could feel it. He was in a tunnel, focused on the evidence on everything he had unravelled. 

He had only seen the words ten year anniversary on his calendar as he was searching for something on his desk. The immense guilt he felt towards you immediately was so overwhelming he had to sit down for a moment. 

You were the love of his life. The best thing that ever happened to him. 

And he was constantly letting you down. 

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had kissed you. Really kissed you. Held you. Made love to you. 

Pulling the first drawer of his desk open he grabbed the little velvet box with the ring he had found for you months ago, opening it to look at the diamond ring. 

When he proposed all those years ago he did not have the money to give you the big ring he had imagined for you. The ring you deserved. Even though you insisted the ring he proposed with was perfect, having only rarely taken it off since he put it on you, he wanted to give you something… new. Something bigger. Something to show you how much he loved you and how far the both of you had come. 

He had found the kitchen and dining room with the evidence of the night you had planned for the both of you, feeling more guilty with every minute he cleaned the table off. 

He took a shower in the downstairs bathroom, not wanting to wake you up.

And then, once he was in bed, he had watched you sleep. Your face relaxed, hugging his pillow against your chest, because he had not been here to keep you close, to keep you warm. 

—-

You woke up to the sun shining in your face. 

Slowly blinking your eyes open you sighed quietly, thankful that it was the weekend and you had nowhere to be. Slowly you turned to lie on your back, startled when you found Tim sitting against the headboard looking down at you. He looked tired, exhausted, guilty. 

“Good morning sweetheart,” he said quietly and you sighed. 

“Hey,” you mumbled, still so very tired. 

“How mad are you?” he asked, and you huffed. 

“Too tired to be mad. Ask again in two hours,” you hummed before you pulled yourself up to cuddle against him. His arm came around you as he slipped down to lay on the bed, pulling you against his chest. You felt his lips on your forehead.

“Don’t think you off the hook Rockford,” you mumbled sleepily, lightly slapping his chest. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he hummed. 

“And you better be here when I wake up again to beg for my forgiveness.”

—-

It was your turn to watch him sleep when you woke up again. The clock on his bedside table told you that it was almost noon, yet you could not bring yourself to get out of bed. You were comfortable, you were warm and Tim was here and you knew you should be mad but fuck you had missed him. 

You slowly turned in his arms, your chin resting on his chest as you looked up at him, your fingers tracing invisible lines over the thin shirt he was wearing. 

“Still too tired to be mad?” he asked sleepily and you smiled softly as he blinked one eye open to look down at you. 

“Not mad. Maybe a little sad. But I know how you get when you work and…” you sighed and he shook his head, his hand taking yours that was resting on his chest. 

“Don’t make excuses for me. I fucked up. We’ve been married for ten years sweetheart. Can you believe that?” he smiled. 

“Well you only have been present for eight of those years…” you teased and he groaned. 

“Ouch. I deserved that.”

You hummed before you kissed his chest, just over his heart. 

“I love you,” he mumbled and you smiled. 

“I love you too,” you pulled yourself up to kiss him. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his hands running under the covers and up your naked back. 

“I…. I think I know how you can make it up to me….” you mumbled against his lips and he smiled. 

“Yeah?” he asked. You nodded, sucking his bottom lip between your teeth as his hands wandered down your body, pulling you on top of him so you were straddling him. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you pulled yourself up, the covers slipping from your body, looking down at him with dark eyes. 

“How did I get so fucking lucky?” he asked himself and you grinned down at him as he pushed himself up, his lips kissing up your neck. You closed your eyes, tilting your head to the side to give him more access. Your hand pulled at his shirt, before you slipped it off his body, throwing it to the floor. 

You could feel him hard beneath you, only the boxers he was wearing separating you two. 

“Tim…” you moaned, your hands in his hair as he kissed himself down, his lips closing around one of your nipples, sucking softly. You slowly moved your hips on top of him, grinding against his hard cock. 

“I can feel you soaking through my boxers. Fuck…” he groaned, biting into your breast, marking you. His hands were on your ass, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as you moved on top of him. 

“Fuck baby….” you arched your back, searching for some friction. Some relief. 

“Need you,” you whined, kissing him hard. One of your hands went down between your bodies, pulling his cock out of his boxers, your fingers wrapping around his length. 

“Sweetheart….” he closed his eyes, his forehead falling against your shoulder. You gathered some saliva in your mouth, letting it drop between your bodies, making him groan as it landed on his cock before you slowly began to pump him. 

He looked up before he brought one of his hands up, two fingers dipping into your mouth before he slipped them between your bodies, finding your clit. 

“Shit, you’re soaked,” he hissed, his fingers slipping between your folds, two fingers entering you slowly, moving deeper and deeper. 

“Think you can take my cock?” he asked, his voice hoarse. 

“Please,” you whimpered.

You let go of his cock, pushing yourself up as his fingers pulled out of you, lining his cock up against your pussy, before you slowly sank down on him. 

You closed your eyes, parting your lips as you let your head fall back, feeling every inch of him enter you until you were sitting on his lap with his cock deep inside of you. 

“Look at me,” he hummed and you opened your eyes, looking down at him. 

“I love you,” he said, tears in the corners of his eyes. You smiled, your hands coming to rest on his cheeks before you kissed him. 

“I love you too,” you smiled against his lips.

“I have something for you,” he said and you frowned. 

“Now?” you chuckled. 

“Yeah. Cause if you move right I will cum immediately. I need a second,” he groaned and you giggled. He reached behind him, blindly searching for something until he hummed and you sucked your bottom lip in when you saw the little velvet box in his hand. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here yesterday. And I can’t promise it won’t happen again. But I’m… I will try. Because you deserve the best version of myself. You… I just love you so fucking much and I want to do better,” he said and you kissed him again. 

“I knew what I was getting into when I married you, baby. But I won’t complain if you decide to maybe be home a little more in the future,” you winked and he chuckled. 

“Deal,” he said, kissing your nose. 

He opened the little box then, making you gasp as you saw the beautiful ring inside of it. 

“I wanted to give you a little upgrade for our ten year anniversary,” he said carefully, watching your reaction. You were speechless, looking at the ring and at him. He had joked about giving you a diamond once he could afford one but you had always told him that you do not need diamonds. You had him, and that was enough. 

“Baby…” you whispered. 

“Can I put it on you?” he asked. You nodded. He took your hand, pulling your wedding band and engagement ring off before he pulled the new ring out of the box and slipped it on your finger, followed by your wedding band. Bringing your hand up he kissed your fingers and you felt a tear run down your cheek as you looked at your hand. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered in awe. 

“I’m glad,” he kissed your cheek, his arms wrapping around your body, to get you closer, wanting to feel your skin against his. You clenched around him, making him groan. 

“Am I forgiven yet?” he asked and you hummed thoughtfully. 

“I don’t know Mr. Rockford. Diamonds are great but….”

“But?” he grinned. 

“An orgasm or two would maybe make me forget about spending our anniversary alone…” you said. 

“And breakfast after,” you added, making him grin. 

“Pancakes,” you said seriously.

“You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Rockford,” he said. You shrieked when he manhandled you, managing to stay inside you until you were laying on your back with him hovering above you.

“But I accept,” he winked, before he began to move. 

[jillsandwhichs]

Our Future Day's

Joel Miller x Reader series , Chap 1 , Move in day

Masterlist

Pairing: Fem!reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You officially move from oregan to texas and get to meet your very new & handsome neighbor, Joel

WC: 3.1k

Type: SFW

Some thing's you need to know before reading: this is a series, not a one shot collection! you (the reader) already have a semi premade backstory. first off, you're originally from oregon. you studied at med school and got a job offer in texas to become a doctor, which you took. you are 23 in this but if you don't like that, imagine any age (18+) and i did make joel younger 26 (until the 20 year time jump, he'll be 46) but he does still have sarah, just pretend it's not wonky LMAO! one more thing, ya have a dog in this fic, he's a boy but imagine any breed you'd like! aside from that, this is tlou game version but i included some sides from the show! a couple more things: 1. all characters from tlou1/2 will be mentioned/featured. 2. this takes place before outbreak, then eventually outbreak day, then eventually in the apocalypse. 3. this is a slow burn romance (drabbles of it in each chapter though, esp when it progresses) and does feature a decent amount of smut. 4. JOEL NEVER DIES!!!

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Thank you

Tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, you matched the beat of the song playing on your cars radio. It was a song by Blake Shelton. You weren't a huge fan of him but he had some classics. It has been such a long day for you. You've been driving for the past two hours, not a single break in between. You just wanted to get to your new home as soon as you could. You could tell your dog, Becker, needed to go potty as well. He'd just have to hold out.

The GPS on your phone stated you were only about ten minutes away. The center of Austin TX was busy as all hell, so that time span could get longer by the second. So many cars & people flooded the streets. "God dammit." You mumbled to yourself, rolling your eyes as you seen all the upcoming traffic ahead. This was going to be a long night. You had no clue when you'd even be able to get into bed. Then again, it was only 4:30 in the afternoon, almost evening.

Behind you, in the backseat, you could hear Becker whimpering & whining. "Don't worry boy, we're almost home, just a little bit longer." You cooed to him, reaching your right hand back and allowing him to lick you. You got Becker as a graduation gift a few weeks ago. You two have bonded ever since. You were never a cat person, dog's were more of your style. "You'll be able to go potty soon." You said to him, pulling your hand back up and holding onto the wheel.

Traffic wasn't going as slow as you intended, was traffic always going to be like this though? This ain't going to be pleasant if so. Especially working for the hospital. Imagine an emergency happens and you're needed but the roads are packed, that's going to be one helluva time. But, you wanna think positively. You missed your family too. It's going to be hard without them, especially your mom. She is your number one supporter and without her in the same home as you, it'll be a large change.

You turned the radio up, hearing the country music blast throughout your car but not loud enough to scare your dog. Dogs ears are sensitive and you didn't wanna bother him further than he already was. No doggo wants to be stuck in a car all day, especially in this heat. Despite it being early September, it was still quite warm out. That's another big change from Oregon, you imagine that back home, it's either really windy or heavily raining. The change could be nice though.

The sound of Becker panting was clear as day, it only made you feel more guilty. "Hold on baby." You muttered to him before you then rolled your window down and the window directly behind you, not a lot though, you didn't want him to jump out or something. Through your rearview mirror, you could see his slobbery tounge blowing in the wind as he stuck his head out the window. "Hah, good boy!" You giggled, turning left onto the exit, finally getting off of this miserable highway.

Finally, the road wasn't full anymore. It was a downtown rural area now, cars slowly made their way through the town. Austin is busy, yes, but this side of it, not so much. The only logical reason it was super busy on the highway and earlier roads was because people are getting/going to work. Your first day at the hospital is on Monday. You were nervous but in a great way. You have been non stop thinking about it. All of the work you've put in and you're officially where you wanted to be. Life was going good... For once...

You passed by all sorts of different places. Gas stations, fast food chains, locally owned stores & stands, it felt so honey. Back in Oregon, you lived in the center of the city, it was always so lively and never calm. Austin is like that too but not as bad, and definitely not as bad as Dallas is. You were grateful you didn't end up moving there or even somewhere that was worse. Austin was a good enough fit for you.

The GPS showed you were only a minute or two away from home, your heart was racing a bit. You've never been on your own before and you least expected it to be in a completely different state. Luckily, a week from now, you'll be going back home for the weekend. It'll be comforting. You'll definitely make sure to call your family everyday, you made sure they knew that too. They'd have to simply put up with it.

You could tell you were getting closer due to the change in scenery. There weren't any establishments around these parts, just either compact or extensive suburban homes. You actually used to make fun of those perfect American families who lived in these types of areas but look at you now. Back home, you lived in a small house, only two bedrooms but you were an only child so it was never a problem. You did wish for siblings growing up but you understand now that if you had some, things would be a whole lot different.

As you turned left, the tracker built into your phone made a dinging noise, indicating you had arrived at your destination. It wasn't wrong. Just to the left, you could see your newly purchased home. It made your heart skip a beat. Not only were you nervous but you were also so happy. You glimmered as you pulled right into the driveway and set your car in park. You could tell Becker knew this was your guy's new home, his whimpers weren't ones of boredness but rather excitement. "One second." You sighed out before getting out of the car.

Stepping out of your car, you sighed softly as you breathed in the fresh air. The smell of outside was always so welcoming. You grabbed your purse out of your car too and swung it across your shoulder. It was a brown leather purse with an embroidered strap. You then opened up the backseat so Becker could jump on out. "Stay over here buddy." You chuckled out, scratching the top of his head a few times before closing both doors. You had quite a bit of stuff in your trunk & backseat but you hired a truck to drive all of your other belongings here. It wouldn't be there for another day or so.

Becker ran off to the side of the house to go potty ; You trusted him enough to not run off. He was a good dog. You went to the back of your car and popped open your trunk. It was a mess but everything you needed for the night was in there. You even bought an air mattress, your back would die trying to sleep on a wooden floor. You grabbed the first two boxes, they weren't very big, and set them on the concrete of your driveway. They just had toiletries in them.

You grabbed out another box, this one was a bit bigger than the other two. It had all of your kitchen appliances in it. You were excited to cook your very first dinner in your very own home. You already decided on making Pesto Pasta, one of your favorites. In your trunk, there was the air mattress box. It wasn't going to be the best way to sleep but it'd have to suffice for the night, your proper bed should be in either tomorrow or on Sunday.

Whilst grabbing out the air mattress, you heard the sound of a truck driving past and pulling into the driveway across from you. They must've been your neighbors. Your neighbors back home weren't the nicest. There were the Johnson's so were beyond uppity and thought they were better than everyone else, they lived beside you. Then there was Cassandra and Cody, they were your age and pretty kind except they were literal kleptos.

You ignored the truck behind you, just trying to get everything you needed for the night. You could hear Becker barking but you didn't know what it was he was doing it at. You figured a wild animal, maybe a bunny or a stray. Becker was actually from a shelter, you'd never buy an animal from PetSmart or whatever. "Becker, quit your barking!" You shouted at him, nudging him to come over to you. Maybe he wasn't good with new environments.

You placed the last cardboard box from your trunk on top of another one, shooting your eyes to look at Becker. He was looking at the truck across the street, barking at it. "Oh boy, quit it." You spoke out to him but he didn't listen. You went to grab onto his collar but right as you did, he bolted off into their driveway. He was a friendly dog, you didn't think he'd do anything bad, he was just inquisitive, but it was still bad of him to run off like that.

"Becker!" You yelled, jogging across the street to grab him. You watched as two men got out of the black truck. The one in the driver's seat had a mullet and lighter hair than the other man, he also seemed shorter. The other one though had short dark hair, although you couldn't tell if it was purely brown or black. He was well built, along with the other man. Were they brothers? That's the only assumption that came to mind.

Once you reached their driveway, you grabbed Becker and pulled him back to you. The man getting out of the passenger seat looked back at you and had a puzzled look before letting out a chuckle beneath his breath. "Listen, I'm so sorry, he's just curious." You sighed out. Becker was now listening as he sat down right by your feet. "Sorry, we'll be out of your hair." You giggled, beginning to turn around before you heard the man's voice speak up.

"You just move in across the street?" He asked you, his voice sounded southern and it was very deep. "Oh uhm, yeah, just got here tonight actually." You said kindly, looking back at him again. "Well, welcome then, and to your dog." He snickered out. "I'm Joel, this is Tommy." Joel spoke deeply, pointing over at the other man. You let the two men know your name before asking them whether or not they were brothers, and they were. You weren't surprised, they did share similar facial features.

"Where are you from?" Joel raised, his arms crossed. His arms were huge, he definitely has a nice body. "I'm from Oregon." You said softly, placing your slender hands onto your waist. "Damn, that's a long ways out. What made you move all the way here?" "Got a job offer at the hospital." You said with a titter, his accent was thick. "Oh, you a nurse or something?" He questioned, leaning up against his truck. "No, a doctor. Recently gradated from medschool." You explained, glancing over at his brother as he walked into the house. Maybe they lived together.

"Well how bout that? I'm just a contractor." "That's nice." You added, tucking strands of your thin hair behind your ear. "Yeah, yeah, well I'll let you continue settling in. If you need any help with uh larger furniture, me and my brother can stop by, we helped the Adler's when they first moved in." Joel said with a deep voice, pointing his index to the home beside his. "That would be great, thanks, luckily I don't have to deal with the bullshit of larger furniture today, it'll be in either tomorrow or Sunday."

"Alrighty, well, you have yourself a good evening. See you." Joel said with a sly smirk, slowly inching backwards. "You too, Joel." You gave him a slight smile before patting Becker to follow behind you. You made your way across the street, allowing Becker to run around in his new yard. You took a gander back and seen Joel looked back at you before entering his home. When you saw his eyes on you, you felt a deep pit in your stomach. Nothing bad, rather just glee or something. You couldn't pin it.

Around your neck was a lanyard, it had the key to your home, you assumed it was locked. At least you hoped, you don't want any squatters inside. You unlocked the white door and opened it, stepping inside of it. The sunset beamed in through the windows throughout the house. It was still dark though, every single light was switched on. The seller said you'd have to go to the basement to switch them all on. That sounded like a fun time!

One by one, you dragged each box into the home, keeping some on the floor and placing some on the island counter. You didn't plan on unpacking any of it tonight, you were restless and just wanted to lay down for the night, despite it only being 5 PM. The more sleep you get, the easier it'll be tomorrow. You definitely had to get a lot of sleep Sunday considering on Monday, you start your first day. Even though it's just training, you wanna be as awake as possible.

You ambled towards the front door again and away from the kitchen to call Becker in. He'd have to deal with the floor for the night. He is a cuddly dog, he loves big comfy areas but without a bed or a couch, there's no way. "Becker!" You said with a rowdy voice, "C'mon baby." He came running over to you and past your legs, going into the house and treading around like a mad man. "Oh good boy." You chuckled, petting him gently.

You walked back over to the kitchen and grabbed the air mattress, you needed to get it open and blown up. It was sealed to a T, your nails were definitely not enough to get it open. Striding towards the appliances box, you opened it up and searched through it, taking out a knife to slice it open. You are quite clumsy so you were praying you wouldn't stab the mattress on accident. It didn't help that Becker felt the need to push himself up against you, seeking attention & love as if he's starved from it.

"Back off boy." You snorted, pulling the mattress out of it's box. It was all wrinkled up and looked compact. Although it was the size of a Full. You straightened it out on the living room floor, you didn't feel like carrying it all the way up the stairs. It came with a machine to blow it up and you connected it to the black cylinder hole, turning it on and hearing the loud blowing noise it was making. You didn't have any pillows, they were all packed up in that truck but luckily, you had a blanket, it was the one you let Becker use in the backseat when you were driving.

"You stay here mister." You stated out to Becker before beginning to make your way out of the front door to take the blanket out from the car. As you went outside, you noticed a bright light was on in Joel's house, just in one room though. You could also see the shadow of a smaller person's body walking through said room. Did he have a girlfriend? Or did Tommy have one? Maybe it was Tommy's. You convinced yourself of that at least.

After grabbing the blanket, you walked back inside and seen Becker already making himself a spot on the bed, despite it barley being inflated. "You little shit." You grinned, tossing the fuzzy blanket on top of him. Guess you were going to have to share.

The bed was officially ready to be slept on, you haven't been this excited to sleep in a very long time. Back home, you dreaded it. You would stay up all night, doing different stuff. Whether it was studying, painting, reading, working out, etc.. You were always doing something new. With Becker, it's been better. You're an affectionate person and he is as a dog. It may be a rough night, it always is sleeping somewhere new, but with him it may be easier.

Pulling the machine away from the bed, you turned it off and climbed underneath the blanket, feeling immediate warmth. The Texas heat also played a part in that. Back in Oregon, you had a heater beside your bed to help, you definitely didn't need one here. "Alright." You whispered to yourself, Becker lying right beside your feet, his fur was cozy. You were originally going to turn the lights on to your home but honestly, you were scared to go down there all alone, a pitch black basement? No thanks.

Trying to sleep in a new area was hard. You felt homesick. You miss your old room, the house noises, the feeling of it. You lived there your entire life, now you're thousands of miles away. Becker probably felt that way too, especially with how he connected with your father, they bonded. A week from now though, you'd be able to see them. It'd be easier. Another thing you couldn't stop thinking about was that man - Joel.

He seemed so different. He was kind & understanding, and that's just simply based on the short conversation the two of you had together. He was so willing to help you out, no one else was like that. It was a sweet welcoming. He was also very handsome. All the men back home weren't like that. That glimmer in his eyes wasn't something to ignore. It was the way he gazed at you that had you wrapped around the thought of him.

That brother of his was good looking too, definitely not as much, but either way. Were they both contractors? It appeared as though they had just left work so maybe they work together. And who was that smaller person walking throughout his house earlier? Had to be a girlfriend. A daughter? No way, the two of them looked to young to even have children. There was still a chance though, teen pregnancies aren't uncommon. You presume you'll deal with a lot of them as a Doctor.

Your eyes felt more & more heavy. Becker's deep breathing made you weary too. The pitch blackness of the room was helpful ; White sound would've been helpful too. Sleeping in complete silence was torture. All you could really hear was your dog and your own breathing. You were completely spent for the day. And you were ready to hit the hay.

Divider Creds: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[sugarbbgrl]

She (Price x OC)

I officially have an idea for a fic I'd been wanting to write for a while now, I really hope it goes the way I want it to. It's inspired by 'She' by Harry Styles. I've been listening to it on repeat, trying to figure out a way to format it into a story. Feedback is greatly encouraged and appreciated <33

John is in a broken marriage. Candace is his younger daughter's homeroom teacher.

wc: 1414

cw: mentions of infidelity (wife), angst, heartbreak, children (LMAO), mentions of divorce

John couldn’t exactly pinpoint when things changed. He’d always been a loving father and husband. He and his wife have been together for ten years, meeting through a friend and almost immediately hit it off. They share two lovely daughters together and a beautiful home. He may have been physically absent sometimes, work having been the culprit, but he never missed a daily call with his family. But there’s been a heavy shift in his marriage, he could feel it almost immediately walking into their home.

While John’s kids are more than elated, sharing tight hugs and a few shed tears, John’s wife is distant, nothing more than a tight lipped smile sent his way. He knows it can take a toll on people when their partner isn’t around, but they’d made a promise to each other: for better or for worse.

She barely said a word to him, her back turned to him when they slept, barely even touching him or even looking at him. It’s never been this tense around each other, but now you could cut the tension with a butter knife. She didn’t say goodbye to him once she left for her own job, leaving the task of taking his teenage daughters to school himself, which he didn’t mind, but just leaving like she did wasn’t adding up.

Then it did. He could smell another man’s cologne and her lipstick smeared every so lightly around her lips. His heart shattered, tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t even fathom the woman he’s been so in love with committing the sinful act of adultery. Every question swarmed in his mind, the ‘why’s’ and ‘how’s’ coming together in one big jumbled mess. But his wife couldn’t care less, just sneering at John and heading to their shared bedroom, making sure to lock the door behind her.

John slept on the couch that night, getting little to no sleep. He was restless all night, silent sobbing and tossing around on a couch not fit for a man of his stature. Those questions and the sight of his wife in the state she was in plaguing his mind all night. How could she do this to me? He thought to himself. I’ve given her everything and more.

It happened again the next morning; she left without a word. John sniffled and made himself some coffee, hoping the bitter beverage would liven him up some for the sake of his children. He would fake a smile while being home with them, not wanting to worry them more than they must be. He quietly washed himself and changed, barely even taking a peek around the room that was once filled with so much love.

Everything was completely different.

John had been home for a few weeks now, still keeping his bed on the couch, sleep coming only slightly easier. He hadn’t even wanted to discuss what he’d bared witness to. He’d seen more signs since the first night. Missing pieces of clothing, small marks he knew for a fact he didn’t give his wife, and even more avoidance on her part. He knew the conversation would come soon, he just didn’t know how to approach the conversation.

But then one day everything changed. He’d woken up to take his kids to school, the usual routine since he’d been home. He’d take his time getting ready, waiting on his girls to finish getting ready before heading out. It never occurred to him that he hadn’t met their teachers, so he took it upon himself to do so that day, making sure to look his best for the rare occasion.

His oldest daughter’s teacher was an elderly woman, smelling of chanel and lilac. She had a warm smile and wide framed glasses perched on her nose. She spoke in a light tone and welcomed John in a warm, grandmotherly hug. He made sure to explain his work situation and why he’d been absent to meetings, but avoided the brutal details. She understood and sent him off with her contact information.

But then he saw her. His younger daughter’s teacher was drastically different from the previous. About ten years John’s junior, she was radiant. Her hair was midway down her back, bright red with striking hazel eyes, seemingly staring into his soul and learning all of his darkest secrets. She wore a long sundress, the wind picking up the bottom lightly to show a pair of flats on her feet. She smelled warm, like vanilla and jasmine and lips painted a light pink. She was radiant, like sunshine on a cloudy day.

“Oh, you must be Mr. Price!” Her smile was wide when she laid eyes on him, greeting him. “Jenny talks so highly of you! I’m Candace White, her homeroom.”

John looked down at her extended hand, small and delicate like a flower in the meadow. His heart raced as his hand connected with her, his rough palms almost swallowing her soft ones. He was speechless, he hadn’t felt this attracted to someone since he’d first met his wife. His wife. The thought of her soured his tongue and dried his throat, he hadn’t even thought of her all day, deciding all together it'd be better not to think of her under another man.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. White.” John returned the smile, dropping her hand lightly and stuffing his own back into his jean pocket. 

“Miss, I’m not married.” Candace chuckled and clasped her hand together at her front, correcting John’s misuse of the honorific.

“Ah, yes, my apologies Miss Candace.” John brought his hand up to nervously rub the back of his hand on his neck, emphasizing her correction. When did my palms start sweating? He thought to himself, failing to realize his skin had gone so clammy. I hope she hadn’t felt them when she shook my hand.

The sound of the morning bell rang through the school, indicating the start of the school day. Teachers and students alike swarmed to the front doors, doing their best to not be late.

“Well, it was lovely to finally meet you, Mr Price. I’d best get going.” She smiled once more and went to turn away, beginning her journey to the school.

“Wait,” John called out, his hand flying up to grasp her forearm. Her skin was warm, small specs of freckles dotted along her pale skin. “Can I get your number?” John asked, his hand firm against her arm.

Candace’s cheeks warmed, red spreading to her face and a nervous smile toyed at her lips. “Mr. Price-”

“I meant, can I have your contact information in regards to my daughter?” Now it was his turn for his face to flush, not realizing how forward his question was without context.

“Oh, of course.” She beamed, pulling out her phone. “Just give me your number and I’ll shoot you a quick text with my work phone number and email.”

John gave her his number, watching her intently, studying her movements as she typed away at her phone. He watched the way her eyebrows furrowed in slight concentration and the way her teeth pulled at her plump, painted lips.

“There we go.” Candace smiled at John after looking up from her phone, a light ‘ding’ sounding from John’s phone. “Don’t hesitate to contact me with any questions or concerns regarding Jenny! Bye, now!” She turned to walk away with a small wave, making her way up the stairs. 

John stared at the new message in his phone for a beat, admiring the new contact he has yet to officially add to his list. He knew it was going to be strictly professional, parent-teacher conversations, but the man couldn’t help but let his mind wander. Sweet good morning texts and dates set, his imagination leading himself into the deep end.

He needed to have that conversation with his wife, he wanted a divorce. He couldn’t stand being left out of dry, waiting around for her to finally change her mind. His interaction with another woman has opened his eyes wide, he didn’t deserve this kind of treatment from the woman he loved for ten years. He’d been the best father and husband he knew how to be, she betrayed his and their children’s trust. 

He wanted out, he didn’t care to be second any longer. She gets to have her cake and eat it too, just like John deserves as well. He gets to finally have fun.

[brookiewriting]

Hiii I was wondering if you could do one of Peeta losing it after you get attacked by one of the tributes and he almost kills them out of rage, but you try and stop him while also reassuring him that ur ok bc you remember he said he didn’t want to kill anybody?? Thank you!! <33

PANIC—

peeta mellark.

summary: reader befriends a little boy, and peeta overhears you fighting for your life. it goes wrong once he sees you're hurt.

notes: holy fuck i suck at endings. can someone genuinely give me advice or criticism??? LMAO

also i posted this last night but it flopped so let's try again..

warnings: angst, death, slight gore.

"peeta!"

your screams were shrill and made the hairs on the back of his neck raise. the screams were consistent, each cry becoming more and more rampant.

with every call of his name, peeta panicked more.

fuck. i don't know what to do.

he wasn't a fighter. everyone knew that. peeta was a baker. an artist. not a fighter. and definitely not a killer.

even now, when you needed him more than anything, he was hiding. a small cavern in the side of a ledge, barely big enough for him to squeeze into /let alone one of the bigger tributes/ was a perfect hiding spot. he was invisible. he could win in here.

another scream, and peeta was rocking on his heels, unsure of what to do. his hands covered his ears.

i can't do this.

☾ ☾ ☾

you really weren't hoping to run into peeta once you were in the games. god, what were you going to do? you couldn't kill him. no, you wouldn't.

you remember the anxious look he gave you on the first day, his hands clinging onto you as much as he possibly could, like you were going to slip out of his touch and be gone for good.

"peeta. look at me." you recalled, your hands holding his cheeks firmly, before moving your index finger to direct his chin up. panicked blue eyes met yours, his brows were so tightly knit together that it made your heart ache. in the years that he'd been your friend, you'd never seen him look like this.

his eyes were studying your face, gaze switching from your eyes to your tucked away hair to your nose and back.

you rested your forehead against his. "win for me. go back to your little brother's, 'kay?" you pleaded, and you noticed his fingers shaking as he pulled away from you. he swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded solemnly.

after that first day, you were quickly separated. you couldn't be in an alliance with him. you couldn't watch him die or have him watch you die. you wouldn't do it. neither of you were overly strong— and you'd hold him back. you'd be okay with dying only if he was the victor.

peeta was safe after he joined an alliance with the careers. at least for right now. he was smart, but physically? he was the weakest link. he led cato and his group to where he thought other tributes were hiding, and as much as he tried to stall them, his intuition was usually right.

you were fine with hiding. you helped out a younger boy from district nine, and you two stayed off of everyone's radar. in fact, most tributes might've thought you were dead or dying in a ditch somewhere. for some reason, being in an alliance with this younger boy was less painful than one with peeta. maybe because deep down you knew you were both going to die.

by day ten, the air was cold. the temperature dropped low at night. you were hidden by an assortment of bushes. you two changed spots often to find food and to make sure no one spotted you.

the little boy shivered; his jacked ripped earlier that week, and since then, it seemed his health was decreasing.

you took off your jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders. his head drooped onto your shoulder. poor baby was exhausted. he was too young to be here and too young to fight.

"you'll be okay." you reassured him, and you didn't know if you were assuring him or your own selfish thoughts.

his brown eyes look up at you, and you rub his back. under those lashes, you could see days of lack of sleep. he'd lost all of energy from when you'd first met him. snow ripped him from his childhood and you from reaching it to eighteen.

"i wish i had a big sister like you." he whispers. "if i don't make it, can you tell my mama that it'll be okay?" the district nine boy closes his eyes on your shoulder, and his words truly shatter your heart.

you don't respond— if you did, you might start crying. you couldn't let him see you like that. he keeps talking.

"mama would be a mess if i did. i do all the chores." you frown as you look at him, and you're shocked to see that he's smiling. it's a big toothy grin, and you notice that he's missing a tooth. even in a killing arena, he had the strength to smile. it made you think of peeta.

you squeeze your eyes shut and squeeze his shoulder. "you'll be going home to see her shortly, alright?" you're almost snapping at him, angry that you wouldn't be strong enough to protect him.

"my mama makes the best cookies around. i'll bring you some when we get out of here. how's that sound, hm?" you nudge his elbow, and you swallow hard in order to smile at him. be strong, you kept repeating in your head. for him. he needs you.

he's quiet for a minute. you notice just how young he is. he can't be older than thirteen. nobody's ever won that young.

"you look sad." he whispers, and you can only nod.

"there's not much to be happy about," you pause, you're still smiling at him painfully.

"keep thinking about your mama for me. think about how happy she'll be to see you. think about how amazing that first night backs gonna be."

you tell him a story about your mama and about running through the forest barefoot in district twelve. you tell him stories about her teaching you how to hunt. your heart twinges thinking about her. you'd know she'd be okay without you, though. this boys mother wouldn't.

he doesn't respond, and shortly after, you hear the soft snoring of the boy. maybe you bored him to sleep. your arm doesn't move off of him. your eyes look up at the sky, bright, twinkling stars bouncing off your irises.

"i don't know if i can do this without you, peeta." you're speaking to the sky, as if someone can hear your prayers. despite knowing each other for a short period of time, you grew attached to this kiddo.

when you closed your eyes /which you hadn't meant to/ you dreamt of the boy coming home to his mother. she had carmel skin just like him and the same bright brown eyes with the same matching toothy grin. his mama embraced him in her arms tightly, followed by his dad, sobs errupting from the both of them as they were reunited with their baby boy. you were invisible to them, but you felt their love and their warmth.

the figures shifted into different people. it was now peeta hugging his baby brother's, his tear stricken face buried into their little shoulders. he was grabbing them so fiercely that it made your stomach drop. you called out peeta's name, tears rolling down the side of your face. nausea was creeping up into your stomach.

why did you always have to be strong for people? why couldn't you be the one held?

your voice quieted as you realized it was just a dream, and he couldn't hear you. the scenery fizzled into white.

you felt a pair of hands shaking your shoulders and you woke up in a hot sweat.

"there's someone here," the boy spoke in a hushed whisper, and you noticed that pinpricks of tears were in your eyes. you wiped them quickly so he wouldn't see.

"stay here." you demanded quickly and exited from your shelter of bushes. he was right; you could hear footsteps surrounding you. even in the pitch black night, you could sense that someone was watching you.

unfortunately for you two, it was two careers from district six.

the male was big, twice as big as you, and scored a ten just thanks to his physical strength. the girl was quick on her feet.

your stomach dropped. you weren't going to make it through this. maybe you could help the little boy survive though.

"run!" you screamed to him, and before anyone else could move, he was on his feet with a start and began running, running, running as fast as his little legs could take him. the boy immediately ran after him, and you felt nauseated.

did i just send him to his death?

you thought about chasing after them, but your feet failed you in time, and the girl tackled you.

"i'm sorry," the girl spoke, his knife raised at your chest. she didn't want to do this. none of them did. "i'm sorry."

"no. no, please don't kill him! please! he's just a kid, please! his mama's waiting for him!"

you cried out, feeling sobs bubble to the surface of your chest, thrashing from underneath her weight. you punched him, scratched her, clawed at her sides, anything to make her get off and let you chase after him.

you screwed your eyes so tightly shut that you saw white. maybe he could outrun him. maybe he'd live.

you were going to die. and memories were flooding your mind. you saw peeta.

you saw him waiting for you at the edge of the forest, the way he used to when you two were small. his eyes were squinted, and the sunlight made him look... warm. and that smile, oh, that smile that could've given you the strength to keep fighting if he was here. he was all dimples and creased eyes.

why were you thinking of him right now as you were about to die?

your thoughts were interrupted by a chilling scream of a boy. it must've been enough to startle the career too, because she dropped her knife. it was enough for you to grab it and drive it into her shoulder. blood began to drip onto your white tee.

you didn't want to kill her. but you needed enough time to get away.

"i'm sorry—" you whispered to her, and the girl was withering in pain. she was repeating that she didn't want to die and you immediately felt guilty.

you couldn't stay to help her, though, so you jumped to your feet and headed towards the direction of the scream.

please don't be that little boy. please don't be that little boy. please don't be that little boy.

you were met with a horrific sight. the boy was covered in a pool of his own blood. there were three open stab wounds on his chest. this prick stabbed him three fucking times. his eyes were glossed over, but you could see the gentle rise and fall of his little heart still beating.

"mama?" he asked, his hands reaching for you, his voice shaking. his eyes were glossy, and he couldn't barely keep them open. he was still cuddled around your jacket.

you didn't have the heart to tell him no.

"it's okay baby, i got you." you cooed, trying not to cry. your hands applied pressure on the open sites, but it wasn't enough. blood was already staining your palms. you gave up and helped sit him up against a tree.

with the last bit of his strength, he put his hand into yours, the size difference crushing you even more. he was so little.

"i don't want to die," he's crying; you don't know what to do anymore other than hold his small figure, rocking him back and forth. your face is buried in his hair, and he still smells like fresh bread.

"i know it hurts. i know. you're not dying on me," yet you know it's too late. his body is limp in your arms, but you can't bear to let him go. if you let go, then it'll be real.

your chest is heavy, and it's hard to breathe. sobs are making your throat swell. tears seep into his hair, and you're still rocking him back and forth.

why didn't he kill you instead?

the larger male must've heard your pained screams, and he drug you off the dead boy. you cried as he pulled your arms off from around him.

"you can join 'em." the boy grunted, using the blade of his hunting knife to cut a thin line down one of your sides. not enough to draw more than a few dots of blood, but enough to make you exhale sharply.

with the last of your strength, you screamed one last time for peeta.

☾ ☾ ☾

peeta wouldn't let you die knowing he didn't do anything to help you. the whole reason why he was okay with being here was so he could die protecting you. just to pussy out at the last second?

how fucking lame was that. you were fighting, possibly dying and he was hiding. he was going to let his best friend die because he was scared.

how pathetic.

self-deprecating was enough to encourage him to move. it was well into the night now, and if he wasn't so used to running through forest clearings, he absolutely would have tripped.

following the sharp screams from you, he ran as fast as he could despite having a bum leg from cato. all because he wouldn't reveal where he thought you were hiding and what your strengths were.

please hold on a little long for me.

when he reached you, a brunette boy had his arms wrapped around your chest, and a knife was directed at your knife. as he watched you from behind a tree, his stomach dropped.

he was taunting you.

"your little boyfriend won't help you now," he mocked, pressing the blade further into your skin, enough to make blood be drawn. peeta watched you wince. "i already killed your friend."

when the boy had his back turned, peeta ran out to him and shoved him hard. hard enough that his head hit a rock with a sharp crack. that wasn't enough for him.

"how dare you put your fucking hands on her," peeta snapped, picking the boy up and grabbing him the front of his shirt.

god, you were glad to see peeta again but you'd never seen him this angry before. it scared you. you were frozen in place.

crack.

peeta threw his head back against the bark of the tree. blood was spotting and creating a mess of his mousey hair.

"peeta..." you whispered, approaching him slowly, your hands outstretched to him. he wouldn't kill him... right?

crack.

the boy was unconscious now, his eyes rolling to the back of his head so only his whites were visible.

"peeta." you repeated more firmly this time. you were suddenly aware of how heavy your tongue felt in your mouth. your eyes were glued to the sight of his head being bashed in.

crack.

"peeta! you're going to kill him!" you screamed, your hands tugging at his arms to get him to stop.

he did, and thank god. peeta let go, and the boy's body slumped to the ground.

peeta looked at you, to the body, and back to you. his gaze softened incredibly, before looking down at his blood stained hands.

"i didn't mean to— i didn't want to kill him. oh god, i'm so sorry—" his voice broke mid sentence and he pulled you into a tight hug. he was holding you to make up for all the time you two spent apart.

"i'm okay. he barely hurt me. it's okay peeta." you breathed into his neck, feeling as his hands held tight to the back of your head. you could feel his body shake and quiver as he cried into your hair.

you stayed like that for a very long time. you let your body relax into his.

for the first time since the games started, you felt safe.

☾ ☾ ☾

by the next morning, the sun was raised above them and rising in a beautiful ombre of orange's and pinks. you hadn't seen anything as beautiful since you'd gotten here. you thought that was the little boys way of saying that he was with you still.

that night, you'd buried the two boys as best as you two could. you left your jacket with the boy from district nine. you couldn't wear it anymore.

peeta's hand was in yours as you two looked at the graves. you'd never seen a grave that small before.

"he was a sweet boy."

"i figured. he had to have been to be with you."

you weakly smile at peeta's comment, but it falls rather quickly.

"it's not your fault. you know that, right?" he speaks so gently with you, like you'll break if he says the wrong thing. you might.

he pulls you into another hug, his chapped lips pressing kisses into anywhere he can reach. your cheek presses against his chest and he's warm. you listen to the sound of his heartbeat. it's oddly reassuring.

"it's not yours either." you quip, looking up at him. "thank you for saving my life."

"i really wish i could've saved his too. both of them."

"i know. maybe it's for the better. he'll never have to live like us anymore. he'll be free from snow."

maybe. maybe you should've told him to keep hiding. maybe then he would be alive to see you kill coriolanus snow.

you move out of the hug, but peeta is still holding your hand. he's silent, and you can tell he's thinking hard about something— his cheek is hollowed and he's biting on it.

"only one of us will be able to win." peeta mentions, and you smile. he's confused: at a time like this? he doesn't mention it.

"may the best hider win."

you smile, but you know that you'd die for him. you'd be okay with dying if it meant seeing peeta return unharmed with his family. you just prayed that death would only show you your happy memories.

[questionableratatouille00]

ʜɪɢʜᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴄʜ. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an effort to get the two of you to bond, Tony Stark sends you and the ex-assassin Bucky Barnes on a road trip together. The problem? You hate each other. The situation? Two weeks in a car together. The reward: three days of a resort vacation. And the problem? He's kinda cute.

Warnings (Entire Series): Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, angst, fluff, crying, fighting, violence, chaos, mentions/talk of trauma, discussions of mental health, and potentially more.

Warnings: Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, reader wears lipstick, heels, and a dress, insecurity on Bucky's part, brief allusion to disordered eating (Bucky), mentions of Bucky not doing so well, mentions of Bucky's trauma in general, and Bucky is probably written wrong. (Trying my best lmao)

||Part 2|| Part 3 || Part 4

[Series Masterlist]

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

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝑹𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

🄳🄰🅈 2, 🄰🄵🅃🄴🅁🄽🄾🄾🄽

It had been easy to find a store selling dresses made to look like they were from the 1940's. The Brandon Center, the little store that could only be found in Brandon Briar, had an overwhelming amount of them. You'd left Bucky to find whatever he needed, you instead opting to browse through all the pretty dresses. There was a large selection, filled with pretty prints and colors.

Bucky, perhaps ten minutes ago, had interrupted your browsing to tell you that he was going to wait in the car. You had simply nodded, quickly glancing at the bag he carried.

A stunning red dress caught your eye. It had a little belt to go around your waist, with 3/4 satin-cuffed sleeves and a matching satin heart-shaped collar.

Sure, there were other dresses in a similar color, but once you saw this one, there was no going back. You checked the tag, making sure that it would fit.

Grinning once you saw that it did, you took the hanger off the rack before looking through the jewelry stand. When you found nothing that fit your style, you sighed. You walked to the register, and you were greeted by a woman, probably in her sixties. Her hair was dyed blonde, which looked good with her blue eyes. She wore black eyeliner all the way around her eye, with thick mascara to match. She grinned, a heavy country accent coming in thick when she spoke. Though you'd only spoken to a few locals, they all seemed to have the same accent.

"Hiya! Will this be all for you today?" She had a nametag on her floral blouse. Brenda.

You nod. "Yes."

"Okay. Oh..this is a pretty thing. You plannin' on comin' out by the old diner for the dance tonight?" She laid the dress out on the counter, examining it.

"Yeah. It's..it's in that little square, right? I saw the string lights this morning when I was driving by, but I didn't really have time to look."

"Yes, yes. The decorations are always gorgeous. Wait a minute..oh, this is from Mr. Lee." She said, beginning to fold the dress. When she noticed your confused expression, she grinned.

"A while back, we had a guy donate a bunch of old dresses like this after his wife passed. His wife was friends with Peggy Carter, funnily enough. Anyway, we kept a bunch of those dresses in the back for a few years. Forgot all about them. Until now, that is."

You nodded, though the mention of Steve's almost-kind-of-basically girlfriend startled you. A younger girl, maybe a college student, stepped out from the door next to the register. The creaky wooden floor announced the presence of another customer, as did the bell on the door.

"Aunt Brenda, can you help Ms. Owens? She wanted to look at that green dress I told you about." The girl said. Her hair was brown and straight, going down to her waist.

"Oh, yes." Brenda turned back to you. "Stacy will ring you up." She explained, placing the folded dress into a white paper shopping bag.

She walked out from behind the counter, Stacy taking her place.

"Sorry about that." She apologized. "That'll be $23.99. Hero's discount."

When she glanced up to you, she smiled a little. "Don't worry. You blend in a lot. Most of the people here are older, and anyone who isn't is just a young couple coming here for the festival. My great aunt and my grandma live up here, so I stay here every summer to help with the store." She assured.

Once you paid, she waved you goodbye as you walked out of the shop. Bucky was waiting in the driver's seat of the truck, scrolling on his phone.

"Y'know it starts at 6:00, right?" He asked when he heard the truck door open.

"It's 3:15, we'll be fine." You rolled your eyes, buckling your seatbelt. You didn't say much on the drive to the hotel, instead thinking about what else you were going to wear.

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

Bucky stood inside of his hotel room, not sure what to do. You had decided to close your door to his room, and he decided to do the same.

He showered quickly, before getting dressed. He felt stupid as he glanced at himself in the mirror. He knew how he was supposed to look, but none of this felt...right. He tied his hair into a low ponytail, just to keep it out of his face.

He opened his door to your room, just to be met with your door closed. He knew it was going to be closed. Of course it would be closed. There was no reason he should feel so...disappointed.

Disappointed? No. No. Bucky was sure of it. He barely tolerated you. You were annoying, and you liked starting fights for no reason.

But he couldn't deny the feeling of excitement he got when he saw your name light up on his phone.

Ready. That was the entire text message. And somehow, a single word made his stomach feel light. Without typing a reply, he stepped into the hallway of the hotel, before he saw you.

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

"You look..fine." You mumble, refusing to say what you really meant: hot.

He nods awkwardly, before tilting his head towards the elevator. Nodding, you walk with him to the elevator, and you try and study his expressions as you wait to get to the first floor.

He looked lost in thought. Shit. That was never good. If he wasn't talking, whether that meant exchanging insults with you and Sam or marveling at modern technology with Steve, he was lost in his head.

One thing you'd noticed about him since he'd moved into the Compound was that he was getting better. Better, in the sense that he wasn't staying holed up in his assigned bedroom pretending that the world didn't exist. Better in the sense that he was talking to people now. Better in the sense that he wasn't waking up violent or screaming in the middle of the night. Yeah, sure, he's a petty asshole who's extremely good at pissing you off, but even semi-joking insults are better than eerie silence and pure fear of the outside world.

When he'd arrived at the Compound, he'd avoided everyone, even Steve. He didn't speak, barely acknowledged people unless he had to. He didn't eat. He could barely sleep. It was like he was a ghost. The first time Peter came over while Bucky was around, Bucky seemed to have shut down a little. Peter was a good kid. He stayed over in his room during weekends, or even occasionally during weekdays in the summer. He didn't ask intrusive questions, and he really did try his best to make Bucky feel welcome. But it really just terrified Bucky.

After a few months of court-mandated therapy, which slowly evolved from twice a week to once every two months throughout the span of a year, he seemed to recover. He slowly learned to get out of those post-HYDRA habits he'd picked up. He'd eat with the rest of the team. He'd join in on weekly movie nights. He'd even help Wanda when she cooked for the monthly 'nice-family-dinner' days. She always loved making the food for those. He started watching baking shows with Vision. He'd hang out with Natasha. He pestered Steve in a way only a best friend ever could. He made jokes. The first time you ever heard the former brainwashed assassin make a joke will be forever ingrained into your mind. It had been some stupid joke about Steve's old costume, and it had shocked everyone in the room. Except for Steve.

He only went silent like this on particularly bad days. Nobody ever said anything, because they knew that would only make it worse, but it was obvious whenever something rough went down. 'Bad days' meant days that followed nightmare-filled nights, or days that involved flashbacks or recovering from flashbacks, or days that were ruined by something triggering him.

"You good there?" You decide to speak up, just as the elevator door opens.

He nodded quickly, beginning to walk to the truck. He hops into the driver's seat, and you don't fight him on it.

"We're a bit late." You note, glancing at the time. 6:13pm. Technically, it started at 6:00pm and ended at 10:45pm.

"Holy shit." You say aloud, looking through Bucky's window at the beautiful decorations. There were string lights strung from light posts, and hay bales for some reason, and other cute things. There was a little stage set up, with a small band playing vintage songs. There were little stands set up where you could buy food or random 1940's themed shit.

"You ready?" You looked to Bucky, before checking in the mirror to make sure the red lipstick you'd applied hadn't smudged.

He nodded, parking the truck against the sidewalk. He waited for you to walk around the front of the vehicle to join him.

"I'll grab us some dinner. You up for this? We can always go back--"

"I'm fine." He said, and at first you thought that he was getting annoyed at you, before a quick glance to his face assured you that he was just trying to convince himself of this. "I'm fine." He repeated.

The air was warm, and the yellow light of the string lights combined with the street lights made Bucky look..really nice.

"Ooh! That place looks good. C'mon!" You grabbed his hand, pulling him forward.

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

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp

[miyuhpapayuh]

Can I be transparent for a sec? Mmkay.

I lost my job back in January over some racist ass mean girl shit and I haven't been able to find a job since then. It's almost may. By the grace of god, am I still held together but man if a bitch don't cry.

Bills never stop. Life don't stop. The fact that some over aged bully brought problems to her SECOND job and got an innocent black woman fired is crazy to me, I feel like they even blackballed me ya know? Nobody wants my ass.

Soon as I send the application off, it's coming back with a fat red NO on it. And I ain't never not do my job, so to pats that off as the THIRD and final excuse as to why you fired me is crazy.

Almost two years and still had that key in my possession til I brought it back to her ass, after she fired me. There's bitches that didn't even have codes to get in the building! I had that AND a key! Mind y'all, this was my second boss. First one got fired cause she truthfully ain't do her job, but me, always on time and ready to do my job.

We got paid $12 and hour! Who tf ain't finna do this silly shit? All I do and ring bitches up. So you saying I never rung a bitch up? Never opened/closed the store? Never cleaned my area? Never did a return? Never help a vendor? Never turn the fountain on/off? Never turned the lights on/off? Tv, either? Never put anything back? Never took something down for someone? Never carried something out for customers, which i eventually stopped on my own cause I ain't finna be no liability. This is not Lowe's. Never answered the phone? Nothing?! I just came to work and disappeared to narnia, apparently, and have y'all my ass to kiss? Yeah, okay. And how do y'all think that'll stand with no paper trail to back it up.

If I NEVER did anything, why was I still here and never written up a single time? You were my boss for five months and never wrote me up? Didn't confiscate my key? CONTINUED to let me open the store up? Tried to make me your errand girl? Picked a bitch who don't even clock ten hours a week your part time assistant manager but kept running to ME when shit would get weird and if redirect your ass to your OTHER assistant manager, because EYE do not get paid to be a secretary. Remember who you gave that job to, especially after being warned that she wouldn't be able to do the job.

Y'all, what the fuck is a part time assistant manager? Any other assistant manager we ever had clocked the full 40, cause it's a REQUIREMENT. Duh. Now part time and full time employees? Sure, but nothing else. Can't be a part time manager of a fucking establishment, that's so ass backwards.

So who would be asked to open the store a LOT if the other assistant was on vacation or whatever? Me.

If a bitch didn't ever do her job? Why call on me? Rely on me to fix problems with certain customers because you knew I'd handle it. Hell, I was helping this girl sell spaces in the store! If I never did my job? Why constantly ask me how many hours I wanted? Tell me about the other girls and how they're not doing what you want and yadda ya.

When girls started quitting, I took those long eight hour shifts to the chin to help you out. And you thanked me! Y'all she was on the phone talking to my assistant manager and they got me right before I left work to thank me for staying so late and being the only one to step up and be a team player and they appreciate me (mind yal I don't care about team player bs it just felt nice to hear that I was appreciated) and all that, just to turn around a MONTH later and say I never did my job?

I got fired over the phone because she knew how it woulda went down in person, but she also thought I wasn't smart enough to fight. First mistake.

This feels like a book lmao I'm knowing y'all prolly don't care but I just have to write this out somewhere, I just have felt so sad and angry.

Anyway. Painted tree is a boutique where people sale their wares, handmade jewelry, food, clothing items, candles, paintings, etc. you could either buy a kiosk or a booth and you were responsible for that and that alone!

So of course, there's vendors that sell shit outta their house cause they know nobody is paying attention, one of them any things this new manager was being brought in to fix cause it was starting to look like a hot mess, I'm not gonna lie to y'all, but I just worked there so whatever.

Of course me being me, I would also make a point to say something every now and again because you can't have us giving a spiel to the customers about the store, while not making sure that your current vendors are following those rules we're giving the new ones! Like???

Old manager was even telling her assistants to sale the spaces sight unseen and why make me privy to this cause you know ima tell y'all how illegal that is!

So the same part time assistant manager is involved in what ended up getting me fired. We started around the same time as cashiers and she's been trying her hardest to get this promotion at her other job, the full time job, but she's up against some sixty year old lady who's been in the company forever, so she's got seniority. Y'all already know how this ends up going. Shorty ain't get the promotion, right around the same time she gets promoted where we work.

On top of that, her husband should choke on something. I won't get into that but there was a point where she'd cry to us about him leaving her and even pimp herself to customers! I'm talking about"if y'all have any single daddies, older brothers, friends, tell 'em I'm ready to mingle!"

Inappropriate.

During the same time, Christmas Eve of 2022, to be exact, we get a text from our manager that the power was out and whoever was scheduled wouldn't have to worry about coming in. So I'm like sweet, see y'all Monday, merry new year whatever.

Of course this bitch gon text back and ask about the possibility of the lights coming back on and I'm like oh my god really. So managers like I'll let y'all know if I hear anything and get y'all to come in. Of course.

So what we ain't know was that this girl was camped out in the job parking lot, waiting to see if the lights came on.

Sure enough they did, cause why not?!?!? And she calls manager and tells HER that SHES gonna drop her kid off, change her clothes and come back to work! Told HER manager what the plan for the day was and you know it actually went down?!?? Cause she was a known snitch at head office, they don't like this girl! Our manager told us that they don't like her.

Anyway, so of course we have to come to work for like three hours and it's a waste because there was like 10 customers at most! My co worker and I are giving her shit because why were you in the parking lot waiting for the lights to come on?! You had nothing better to do cause your husband still hasn't come home?! DO NOT MAKE THAT MY FUCKING PROBLEM WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK?!

She's telling the customers that we're making her feel bad and I'm just saying "good, I hope you do feel bad" got our asses at work for nothing, yeah feel bad! I could still be in the bed! Last minute Christmas shopping my ass! I'm mad!

So why does she end saying she wants to leave early?

Not the same person who said we should thanking her for getting us more hours? Not the one who was trying to gain sympathy from the customers? NOT THE ONE WHO CAMPED OUT IN THE PARKING LOT?!!!!

When I say my head swivelllllllled, it almost came off. All my coworker did was stare at her but eyeeee had words for her ass.

No way you just said sumn bout leaving early??? You literally waited for the lights to come back on so you could get us to come to work! We're here and only been here for like 2 hours, maybe her 3, and you wanna leave early?! You ain't going nowhere. If anything ima hitch a ride with coworker and we gon leave you here to lock up. That was funny of you to think you were leaving early.

Shoulda seen her face, like dare you!

I said if our manager goes for it and you leave early, I got words for her too. I bet she ain't get work early.

My manager and I even agreed that she was being ridiculous to even ask that question, being the one who made us come to work!

Yeah she ain't like me ever since that, but she also ain't buck her shit after that either.

So when we get our new manager, she feels like she got someone on her side because let me make note that the old manager was the best friend of the assistant manager that she works alongside now. So the playing field is leveled now.

So my sister and I have a kiosk to share, my art and her baking. We get both of the week and I make it look all pretty with our candy jars and cookies and paintings and jewelry that my mom made and what have you.

I come in a day before my week is up and my stuff isn't there. In fact, that now part time assistant is standing in front of a table, taking down a coffee display.

Do we do this on Saturdays? Absolutely. Do we use the other side to display our coffee so these booths of the week can still be presented? Also, yes.

So why is mine the one you MAKE SURE you take down? Right.

So I clock in and tell my assistant manager that I needed to go to my booth. I go to my booth and our stuff is out back crazy! I call my sister while I'm putting everything back. I mean candy dishes on the edge of the shelves, my paintings on the floor, cookies put behind things. Like she just dropped it off and kept it moving.

So were upset and I call my manager and let her know what's happening and she's telling me head back up front cause conveniently both assistant managers were leaving early so I needed to watch the front so I'm like okay just call her and tell her that I don't appreciate her just throwing my stuff around and she assures that she will.

So that ended up being translated like something to brush off cause when I had to call her back cause I couldn't find one of my stand to my paintings, which I ended up finding in the office on a shelf?! Which also ended up not being a big deal to my manager which I noted was not cool, she just kinda passed off a message like we she didn't know where your things went.

She coulda left my shit where it was sitting and let me know to move it when I got in. Could moved it into the office and let me put it back myself. I got agreement on this from my manager. So I'm just like okay whatever just tell her not to touch my stuff anymore if that how she's gonna do me. That was the end of it for me, cause just let me get my money pls.

So the next day we work together again, and like any other day we do not speak to each other cause she's wishy washy and I don't get paid to speak to you nor do you get paid to speak to me. So I speak to my other coworker cause she's not an asshole to me and I go about my day.

Why does the next day roll around and my manager asks me what do we need to do to solve the tension? I'm like what tension? I'm good. When she wants to start treating me like a human, then maybe she'll get so here with me but EYE am not the problem here?? I didn't do anything to her??

She's like, well she told me that you came in and didn't speak to her but you spoke to everyone else.

I'm sorry, I'm we in high school? Didn't I tell y'all that we are not friends? I know I've told y'all that so what's this about?

I told her that I'm not rolling out a red carpet for this girl and making her feel comfortable cause she's definitely not doing that for me! Like be real! Be serious! If I told you every damn time she ain't speak to me, you woulda been tired of me long time ago! I don't come to work for that! Tell her come talk to me and I get a comment about my attitude and I shrug it off like okay haha cause I'm not confrontational all the time, it didn't cost for that ya know? So the comment was unnecessary.

So a couple days go by and I end up texting my manager to chat when I got to work later that day just letting her know that I needed to get everything off my chest about this while situation cause it was starting to bother me how the whole thing was being handled.

In that conversation, I pretty much reiterated that I just would like to continue doing my job and not worrying about catering to anyone's feelings, cause we do not get paid for that. This girl had been treating me like an outcast for a whirl and it feels racist sometimes and she's quick to defend her cause duh and I tell her that I don't need anyone to tell me what they think about it so pretty much like girl save it, I still think it's racist and she tells me to send part time assistant manager a message to say like here's where we stand and we don't gotta get along but we gotta get back to work and let it be.

So I'm like ok cool, I type it up in my notes and send it to my homegirl like girl read this and lmk what you think cause she privy to everything that's been going on!

She like that's cool but I don't think sending her that will make a difference, cause I agree with you that she should do her job just mediate or something instead of getting you do it! Remember, YOU didn't do anything to her!

So my sister came right around that time cause she was picking me up, also putting labels on her products cause again we own a kiosk, and so I tell her about it and she immediately is like do not send her anything cause they can use it against you.

So part time assistant manager ends up coming in and when I say she beelines straight for the office, she almost hurt herself getting in there.

So my assistant manager ends up telling me that if I wanted to go home early o could cause we were really slow so I was like yeah I'll see y'all tomorrow, byeee

So a couple hours later, I get a text from my manager asking me if she could call me. I already knew what it was but I'm like there's no reason why she would do that.

So she calls me and someone from corporate was on the other line! wtf? So she goes into this spiel about cutting hours and then abruptly says that here's where we part ways.

So I'm like why am I getting fired? She dances around the question and goes on to say something about an attitude, and so I ask her if it's about the situation between we and ptam (got tired of writing that out) and if it is about that situation, is she also getting fired? Cause never did I speak to that girl about any of this, it was my manager and I talking. And she doesn't answer any of what I asks, she just keeps going back to its best that we do it like this and I'm like why? She then goes on on to say she knows I wasn't happy and I'm like how?? Why would I come to work to take your shift, both assistant managers and my own in this mf if I hated my job? Girl shut up! Like not making any sense?

So the lady from corporate takes over and starts talking like an inspirational speaker about how she met me and I can go anywhere and be the best I can be and there's better opportunities and I end up zoning out cause I'm just like how tf am I gonna pay my bills now? I don't have a job lined up. I cannot believe I just got died and she didn't even give me a reason— she thought I hung up and I'm like nah I'm here but I don't wanna hear anything else or continue this conversation, you want your key back? Cool. Do I even have a shift still, tomorrow morning? No, of course not. K, you'll get it back, bye.

Immediately I send a long email to corporate and tell 'em everything that's gone on, even told em how my manager has her boyfriend/fiancé drive an hour back down the road to another location for some damn labels because ours hadn't shipped out yet. This man is NOT employed there so there's no reason why he should be being employed to do her job for her!

I also terminated the contract for my stand cause now I'm no longer there to watch my stuff and if bitch gets away with throwing shit around once, she gon do it again. Told her rip that shit up.

Now my sister was mad at me but not for long cause she knew i was upset but I was NOT talking outta anger, I mean what I said but she wanted to see if she could figure out what's going on cause I'm not the only owner of the kiosk which is fair, so we head up to the job and the assistant manager that I worked closely with was there, looking like a deer caught in headlights. This is her norm but it pissed me off more than usual.

She tried breaking bad on me, telling my sister that I called this person and that person and told em all types of shit, now me being me again, I'm asking wtf I said cause when we first started asking her questions, she wasn't aware of this and that and wasn't even allowed in the email anymore lmao and for an assistant manager, that's a bold face lie to tell cause how the emails get answered? It's just you here, dummy! YOU KNOW WHATA GOIN ON BITCH!

So when I asked her what I said in the email she just said she wasn't allowed in, she gon smirk at me and say "you know what you said"... nah! Since YOU know what's in the emails, you tell ME what I said. After that she sobered tf up and that smirk went bye bye. She even backed away from the counter cause I was getting so agitated, and she's scared of me. We've also had it out before so she knows her limits and me not being her coworker anymore, she knew better than to test me.

So I end up separating from my sister cause the conversation was going nowhere, only for us to find each other again and assistant manager told her that I never did my job. Crazy as hell.

When I say I sent a total of three emails and called corporate and only one person responded to my email— the chief of staff, mind y'all! I'm thinking she finna come with it, right? Wrong. Everybody full of hot ass.

She telling me that there were concerns— none of which were brought me but ok— about my work ethic and there's claims from SIX of my coworkers that support me being away and not ready for work but clocked in, also multiple screenshots that support the idea of me not being fond of my job.

I asked that bitch to send me this concrete ass evidence so EYE can see what EYE said and y'all know I ain't get shit back. Not even crickets. Not even a tumbleweed, bitch.

One thing about me, ima ask to see the evidence. Y'all not finna act like y'all got something on me and not share it with the class?!? Come on, where's the fun in that?!

Couldn't take the time to fabricate some text messages or print out a write up and forge my signature! Nothing!

So when it came time for me to get my unemployment, of course they tried making that difficult too! But ima fight for myself. I've come to far in that, not to.

Got them ppl sending me questionnaires and in ever text box they provided, I went into lengthy detail about this whole situation, I was so tired of telling mfs that I wasn't aware of why I was even fired, it made me literally ill.

It was like I was talking in circles and nobody was listening to me, which is something that makes me physically violent. So something needed to be done asap, cause if I gotta sit my black ass at home, I'm getting my duckets in the meantime!

So I got fired of the 16th of January, right? On the 17th of February, I log into DES and guess who was approved for their well deserved mf money cause them bitches ain't have no evidence to support me never doing my mf job?! Yeah! YEAH!!!! I cackled all morning long bitch, it was so funny and hilarious and delightful!!!

But I've been looking for a job for the last three months and it's about to be May. By the grace of god and my mama do I still have money in the bank, but the unemployment is on its last leg and it don't know what to do. I just feel like a failure a lot of the time, it really sucks to keep getting rejection letters in my email but ima keep trying. Just don't know how much try I have left in me.

So yeah, if y'all made it to the end of my long ass diary entry, I appreciate y'all and hope y'all take care of y'all selves at these jobs cause they give not one fuck about ya, k? K, stay lovely and spicy 😘😘😘😘