#like i never noticed in that upper right one that even as he's steering her she grabs back onto him

[alg3a]

hellooo your smuts brought me back from the grave and if you’re taking any requests, i would love to see your take on a jayce x fem reader. i kind of want to see a shy student scenario with a pervy student jayce 😩 omg pls tell me you see the vision lol!

hello! YESSS i definitely see the vision, i hope i executed it alright! thank you so much for this request. i was sort of worried at first because i don’t typically write for jayce alone—normally i just write jayvik or viktor—but this was SOOOO much fun! probably actually my favorite of the three fics i have so far. hope you enjoy!

staring

pervy!jayce x innocent!f!reader

3.9k, MDNI, no use of y/n

description: After setting eyes on the handsome boy in your lecture, and staring at him every class after that, you find out that your father has sponsored his research and invited him to dinner. After a particularly frustrating meal, you run upstairs to your room, not expecting him to follow you.

warnings: nsfw, fem receiving oral, pervy jayce, innocent/inexperienced reader, sneaky sex, equal bits plot and porn i think, jayce covers readers mouth, creampie, hooray!

a/n: this is my first ever request! i hope i did it some justice. if you like it, feel free to send your own request! i don’t have guidelines yet, but chances are i’ll writer whatever you suggest.

The first time you saw him was across the circular lecture hall and you were quickly drawn in, fixated on every tiny movement of his. You didn’t even notice that you were staring until you realized he caught you. It was near impossible not to look at him, with his wide ambitious eyes and even wider shoulders, he was a difficult sight to steer away from. That didn’t make it any less embarrassing when he noticed your lingering gaze.

The position he caught you in was so juvenile and schoolgirl-esque that it seemed only fitting for a bright pink blush to span your face. You had a palm against your cheek, your head slightly tilted, and your bottom lip was caught between your front teeth. Your right leg crossed your leg and the suspended foot swung in tiny little distracted circles below your desk.

When his eyes landed on yours, his eyebrows furrowed a bit. Not out of anger, more like he was trying to focus his gaze on you to see whether or not you were really staring at him. Then a little smile crept onto his lips around the same time you had realized that he had caught you and you instantly averted your gaze. You tried not to look at him again during lecture, but whenever the professor in the center of the circular lecture hall crossed in front of him, your eyes stayed behind and you allowed yourself a glance in his direction.

You wondered how you hadn’t noticed him before. Perhaps this was the first time he sat in that spot so far this semester. If that was the case, it certainly wasn’t the last time he sat there. For the next few weeks, he was amongst the first students to arrive in lecture and always made sure to secure that exact same seat, not one to the left, right, or above. You’d never seen anybody be so particular about a seat in lecture before. Not even you, who had a penchant for patterns and regulation.

Each passing class only stoked your burning obsession with this boy, whose name you didn’t even know. It got so bad that you had difficulty paying attention in class some days, which was totally unlike you. You were a perfect student, always dedicated and responsible in school, so why now? Why this one pretty boy in one silly lecture?

Your father wasn’t happy when you let him know you received a C on your midterm.

You came from an upper house in Piltover and you were your parents’ only daughter. There was an absurd amount of pressure on you to uphold the standards so eloquently listed by your older siblings and your parents.

“How will it affect your class grade?” Your mother asks sensibly, her voice low and polite and she sets out her favorite dishes from the china cabinet.

“Well, it’s not good,” you begin to say, ready to explain how what really matters is your final project and the final assessment, how they’re weighted more heavily, but your father interrupts.

“Not good?” He chortles, spread out in his armchair the room over. “Abhorrent is more like it!”

“Dad,” you begin to plead, but you are once again interrupted.

“Enough! I’ll look into a tutor and you will spend your time studying and asking your professor for extra credit.”

You hated when he did this. You weren’t a kid anymore, if you wanted a tutor you’d ask a classmate or a TA, and you had read your syllabus enough to know that your professor didn’t afford extra credit to his students. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself in school…or at least that’s what you thought. After all, if a silly crush on a stranger in lecture was enough to tank your grades, were you really all that capable?

You could’ve argued with your dad, but decided against it. It was almost time for dinner and you didn’t want to ruin your appetite with a fight.

“Go get dressed, dear, we’re having a guest for dinner tonight,” your mother said, changing the tone of the conversation.

“Who?” You asked, realizing that she was taking the good china out for a reason.

“One of the students that your father has decided to sponsor.”

Oh, that’s right. The academy just had their Innovation Gala, in which the young inventors of Piltover are given the opportunity to wow rich folks with their ideas in hopes of receiving some funding. Your father had been extending his fortune to students since you were very young. He saw them more as business opportunities than as students.

“Well, who are they?”

“A bright young man,” your father said, his mood instantly lightening. “Lots of promise. A grade or two above you, I believe.”

You think of the inventors you’ve met at the academy as you go upstairs to your bedroom to change, wondering who the guest will be.

You slip into a knee-length powder blue dress and a soft white sweater. You’re brushing your hair when you hear the doorbell ring from downstairs. Muffled exchanges between your parents and the mystery guest pass through your closed bedroom door. You’re applying your lipgloss and staring into your vanity when your mind begins to wander. You can’t get your mind off of the boy from lecture. Would he like this shade of lipgloss? Would he like your dress, your sweater, your shoes, your hair…

Your father shouts your name from downstairs. “Come down, it’s time for dinner!”

You sheath your lipgloss and straighten out your dress before heading downstairs. You're halfway down the spiral staircase before you can see tonight’s guest, and when you do, you aren’t sure you have enough strength in your legs to keep walking down.

He calls your name again, this time wearing a smile on his mouth. Your father had a tendency to turn into a jovial old man when around people that weren’t you or your family.

“Come, meet Jayce,” he says, his arm wrapped around the boy from your lecture.

You only realize how hard you're gripping the railing once you reach the bottom of the stairs. You force a polite smile past your agape expression and walk toward your father and the boy. Your father is by no means a short man, but the boy towers over him. It’s impossible not to pay attention to how his dress shirt clings to his chest, or how the collar wraps neatly around his strong neck, leaving a glimpse of his bobbing Adam’s apple.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you hold out your hand and he takes it, gingerly. He brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it softly as his eyes remain on yours.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, shooting a flaming arrow straight through your thudding heart. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but we have a class together, don’t we?”

Wonderful. Not only would you have to play polite with this handsome stranger, you’d have to endure the rest of the night knowing he’d caught you staring at him with bright doe eyes in the middle of class. How ironic that the boy responsible for your sinking grades would be seated beside your father tonight at dinner.

“Oh, I think you’re right,” you smile, eyes widening in feigned surprise. “Applied physics?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” he says, finally releasing your hand just as it’s about to get clammy from your excitement and anxiety. He claps your father on the back. “Your daughter is a marvel in that class, really. She’s constantly answering questions and asking even more insightful ones.”

A lie? Why?

“Is that so?” Your father asks, seemingly forgetting his prior rage at your subpar grade.

Jayce nods as your father leads you all to the dining room, where your two older brothers are already sitting. Your father takes his seat at the head of the table, your mother at the opposite end. You sit between him and Jayce, across from your brothers.

For a while, Jayce spends some time introducing himself to the two boys across from you, entertaining their small talk and questions about whatever invention sparked our father’s interest at the gala. You couldn’t focus much on the details, too distracted by the fact that your lecture crush was seated beside you in your own home, at the dinner table you’ve been eating at for twenty years. He spoke so eloquently, so politely that you thought for a second that he might have overlooked your embarrassing moment in lecture so many days ago. Perhaps it hadn’t lived in his head the same way it had haunted you.

The maids brought out the food and you began to eat. You sipped on champagne and did your best to avert your gaze from Jayce, but he got in the way of that attempt.

“So tell me,” he said, turning his attention to you, “how do you like physics?”

How did you like physics? What sort of a question was that?

“It’s a good class,” you say, simply. “I like the professor’s lecture style, it’s very…personal. I detest professors who just read from the notes and expect it to resonate.”

“Right, I’ve noticed how closely you pay attention in that class.”

It takes every ounce of self-collection you have not to choke on your champagne. Was he teasing you? Was that his way of secretly calling you out for ogling at him for every minute of the hour-long lecture?

No, you must be paranoid. Maybe he really meant it, after all he had already oversold your attentiveness in that class once tonight.

“Yes, right.”

“Truly,” he says, and you risk looking over at him beside you. “You look so enamored. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were daydreaming…lost in fantasies.”

You set your glass down with a slam.

“Mind your manners, darling,” your mother says as you collect your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you say shakily, dabbing at the splattered drink on the tablecloth with your napkin.

You hurry to finish your meal as your father changes the subject, discussing some stupid business matter of his. You can’t hear anything over the pounding of your heart in its cage. Once your dish is empty, you set your utensils down and look pointedly at your father.

“May I be excused?”

“Sweetheart, don’t be rude,” he says, his eyebrows straightening into a firm line. “We have a guest.”

“Oh, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that…I have an assignment to work on and I really don’t want my grades to slip any further.” You lie, avoiding Jayce’s eyes, although you feel them boring into the back of your head as you look at your father.

“Very well,” he says, with a wave of his hand. “You may be excused.”

You slam your napkin on the table and walk hurriedly up the stairs. You shut your door with a slam louder than you meant, but you can’t concern yourself with that now. You lay face down in your four-post bed and throw the sweater off of your arms before screaming into a pillow.

Cruel! He was just being cruel. If your staring in class hadn’t made your crush obvious, surely your behavior tonight had sold you out. Stupid, stupid, stupid! You groan out into the pillow before a slight creak of your door snaps you out of your fit.

You turn over, expecting to see your father and already thinking of ways to explain your current exasperated position, but it’s not him.

“What are you doing in my room?” You ask, coming to a seated position with your legs bent ever so slightly atop your ivory comforter.

“You mean, this isn’t the restroom?” Jayce asks, a small smirk on his mouth as he walks slowly toward you like a predator about to pounce. “I guess I didn’t follow your mother’s directions very well.”

“What are you doing?” You ask again.

He laughs and shrugs his shoulders. “Cute room.” He looks around for a moment before his gaze falls back on you, lying so delicately on your bed, just waiting… “Pretty close to what I imagined.”

“What you imagined?” You repeat, seemingly only able to ask questions right now.

“Mhm,” he says, finally reaching the edge of your bed. He stands over you, looming like a tower, preventing any light from reaching you. “Can you blame me? I’ve seen how you look at me during lectures.” He pauses to laugh. “You’d think I was the one lecturing the way you stare, and stare, and stare…”

“That’s not–” you try to defend yourself, but you can’t. You have no reason, no explanation, no excuse. No words.

“I don’t mind,” he says, his smile widening. “It’s cute. The way you cross and uncross your legs when I catch you looking. Oh but before that, when you’re resting your cheek on your hand and tilting your pretty little head… that’s the best.”

You look at him like he’s insane, and part of you thinks he actually might be. But the other part…

“Tell me,” he says, his knee resting on the edge of the bed, positioned for him to climb onto it if only you would just give the word. “What do you think about when you’re staring at me?”

“Jayce…” you mutter breathlessly, unsure whether or not you should say.

He leans over your sprawled out body and puts a delicate finger beneath your chin.

“You can tell me,” he smiles, his eyes betraying his true desire. “Chances are, I’ve had the same ideas.”

“I’ve,” you utter, barely able to get the words out as he pushes your head up ever so slightly, forcing you to make clearer eye contact with him. “I’ve thought about…”

Thinking those thoughts is one thing, but saying them out loud is completely different. It’s impossible.

“Use your words, honey,” he says, stroking your bottom lips with the calloused pad of his thumb, as if he were trying to coax the dirty words out.

“About laying on your table…in the empty lecture hall…”

“And?”

“And you’d…” you sigh, exasperated. Somehow trying to utter this sentence took more out of you than running a mile would. “You’d have your head…between my thighs.”

“Would I be tasting you, sweetheart?” He asks, a grin spreading across his face, revealing sharp canines. A new thought crept into your mind. What would those teeth feel like dragging your panties off? What would they feel like biting your thigh, or your neck?

“Yes,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own admission, although he pried it from your pretty, glossy pink lips. “Yes you’d be tasting me…”

“Attagirl,” he says, removing his hand from your chin and his knee from your bed.

For a moment, you aren’t sure what he’s going to do. Would he take this admission and run out of your room with it? Would he tell your parents? Would he tell his friends? Would you go to school the next day, the laughing stock of the academy?

He drops to his knees.

Your breath halts as his hands land on your knees, his eyes gazing up at you over the crest of the side of your mattress. His calloused palms rub the soft skin of your thighs, upward bound.

“Jayce?” You ask, knots in your stomach.

“I was right,” he says, the path his hands taking never ceasing. “We have had the same idea.”

He pushes up the fabric of your powder blue dress, pulling you slightly off of the bed so that his lips can find the inside of your thighs. He leaves soft kisses along them.

You watch as his hungry amber eyes flicker up, landing on your soft pink panties.

“Fuck,” he mutters against the plush skin of your thigh.

He pushes your thighs apart and pulls you closer by your hips. His nose presses against the wet spot on your panties and he takes a deep, slow breath. You watch as his eyes flicker shut, relishing the scent of you so close to him. The sight only makes you wetter.

“God, you smell so fucking good,” he groans. He flicks his tongue out and licks the fabric of your panties, leaving a damp spot. You twitch against the wet sensation, your thighs closing a bit but his hands are faster. He holds them down as he continues to tease you through the fabric.

“Jayce…” you begin to start your reprimand, ready to tell him to stop teasing you and just dive in, to eat you out like he’s starving, but you can’t utter any word other than, “please.”

“Please what, baby?” He asks, looking up with that wicked grin of his. “Use your words, remember?”

“Please…please taste me…”

You feel utterly deprecated just saying such dirty things to a man you only just officially met, but if the fantasies in your head were worth anything, you two were intimately acquainted by now. And to Jayce…well those fantasies seemed to be worth a lot.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, his hands sliding up your thighs to pull down the fabric separating his tongue from your pleasure. He’s quick to push your thighs back down again, regaining his control of your trembling body.

He makes sure he’s watching you when he administers his first slow, tantalizing lick. His eyes are hooded and hungry, and his hunger translates well.

“Oh my god…” you whimper as he tastes you.

He picks up speed, his tongue slicing through your folds and spending lots of time at your quivering clit. He licks and sucks and slobbers like he hasn’t had a meal in years, which you know to not be true. Such an appetite.

“Jayce,” you whimper, pleading, begging, but for what you do not know.

He moans against your clit as you say his name, the precious sound of your debased voice striking a delicate chord within him. The vibration of his moan against your core makes your back arch, and his eyes dart back up to you, to watch you suffer under his pleasure.

“I think–I think I’m close,” you whisper, breathlessly as your hands grab at the sheets above your head. You look so pretty, stretched out and suspended like that, your arms hanging above your head and your legs thrown out on either side of Jayce’s blur of dark hair and sharp features.

“Let it out, sweetheart,” Jayce muffles against you, his assault on your quivering clit not letting up one bit. “Let me hear it.”

You whine and squeal and thrash against his face, his hands squeezing hard to keep your thighs down so he can continue his job. You reach for his hair, just to have something solid to grab onto in your ecstasy, and he moans at the rough tug, the vibrations topping off your climax as your arched back grounds itself against your sheets again, descending alongside you.

He’s still hungry, and he hardly allows you any time to recover from your first orgasm, something you didn’t experience very often, especially not from the mouth of a man. Already, he’s climbing atop you, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down to reveal his long, fully hardened cock. You reach out with unsteady fingers to unbutton his fancy dress shirt, admiring the way it’s already gathered wrinkles from his rowdy behavior between your legs.

Now you’re equally dishevelled. Your lip gloss has been rubbed off by your hungry bites at your lip and his mouth shines with your arousal and his own spit. Your dress is polled up over your hips and his own shirt barely clings to his arms in its unbuttoned state. Your hair pools out beneath you and his still bears the marks of your tugging.

It’s heaven for Jayce to see you like this. He’s spent weeks admiring the prim and proper put together little rich girl across the lecture hall, imagining what she would look like fucked out beneath him, screaming his name and abandoning all manners. He wants to ruin you, and he will.

His lips crash against yours, your arousal and his spit providing you with new lip gloss. His tongue betrays his hunger, crashing against yours, pushing it aside as he explores each corner of your little mouth. All the while, his hands are creeping up your soft stomach and resting on your breasts beneath his heavy, muscled torso.

“Jayce, I want you…I want you inside me,” you mutter, gaining some boldness at the sight of his craving.

He doesn’t even have the strength to muster a reply. He intends on saving all of his energy for destroying your cute little cunt. He grabs his cock, pumping it a few times to spill out the precum resting on his tip. He aligns it with your tight entrance and spreads your arousal over it to provide aid in jamming it into you.

“Fuck!” You shout into his broad shoulder. “Oh fuck!”

He didn’t expect such naughty words to rip from your innocent little throat, but he delights in your reaction to him stretching you.

He rocks his hips in and out of you, slowly at first, but even he can’t hold himself back just for the sake of torturing you. He ruts into you, pathetic, needy. His body presses down onto you, your chest smushed against his as he leans on his forearm beside your head. He groans out at each desperate thrust into your tight cunt.

You’re no better. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, pulling him ever closer and deeper into you. Each kiss of his tip to your cervix elicits a loud whine from you, echoing through your room. Your ornate decorations and pristine shelves now act as a shallow veneer. You’re not so clean anymore. Not so innocent.

“Oh Jayce,” you moan breathily. “Just like that! Oh fuck!”

You’re a mess beneath him, muttering slutty little words that rise and fall in volume as his thrusts punctuate them. Jayce is so lost in pleasure that it takes him a minute to realize that your volume has become an issue.

He brings a hand over your mouth, the other arm still acting as support as he rests on his forearm. You taste the salt of his skin on his palm as he presses it to your soft lips.

“You make such pretty noises for me,” Jayce says softly, a groan interrupting his syllables every so often. “And you sound so good but you gotta be quiet, baby.”

Despite his words, his thrusts don’t soften and his grip on your mouth remains. Your moans continue, quietly, muffled against his strong hand. To prevent himself from moaning too loud, he bites down on your shoulder. Hard. It’s enough to send you over the edge, the pain rippling through your skin and down to your core.

You can tell he’s close too, by the way his bite hardens and his hips jut mercilessly into you. Your legs begin to tremble and you tilt your head back, your back arching off of the bed to press even closer against his chest.

He replaces his hand with his mouth, which does an equally good job of shutting you up. With a final rut of his hips into your cunt, he stifles a groan against your lips and you feel yourself filling with his seed. Your muscles relax, your toes uncurling and your chest resuming its breathing.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his head leading the fall onto the bed beside you. His hand wraps around your waist and he administers a final kiss to your forehead. “That was…”

“Just how you imagined it?”

“Better.”

[cravingsfromatwistedone]

Oh boy, request are open!

If this catches your interests, may I request the freshmen knowing that the five of them have a crush on the reader and they try to interfere with the other when one of the boys manage to get the reader alone for themselves and pull a move on her?

IMMOVEABLE OBJECT VERSUS UNSTOPPABLE FORCES [ FIC / FLUFF+ SLIGHT NSFW ]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I COULDN'T COME UP WITH A GOOD TITLE SO THIS IS THE ONLY THING I CAME UP WITH. I'M SORRY FOR THE MEMES... TW: SLIGHT NSFW AND SOME SWEARING

Well, this is an unexpected predicament

A transferred student from another world became the center of attention when she was enrolled in an all-male institution, especially how she manages to keep her herself afloat in a college full of talented and cunning magic wielding students. In the realm of Twisted Wonderland, magic tips the surface of survival. With no home and magic to rely on, she was placed at the bottom of the food chain; have no fear however!

With her close knitted friends she gained along the way, she pushes through every obstacle thrown into her and continues to stay alive! It's a classic trope of where the best of friends falls in love with one another after going through so much. But how does one handle five at once?

Each and every one of them vying for your attention, hoping that you would take notice of their profound love for you as it grows each time they spend time with you more and more; to the point where they'd wish that one day you'd suddenly be infatuated as they are. Alas, their wishes goes unheard by the beings above! Thus the only way to seize your heart is by pure determination and hard work! Maybe a handful of mischief to steer away the other suitors; it's in the name of love after all!

"Oi, (Y/N)!" Your name was spoken in a harsh tone by the redhead, fingers jabbing at your sides as his figure inched closer and closer to you; completely erasing any space you had with him "C'mon! You've been sticking your nose in those dumb papers for HOURS now! At this rate, I think I'm gonna grow white hairs with how slow you're writing-" You merely gave him a side glance before continuing your work which made the redhead pout. With a huff, the male enveloped his arms around your waist, your shoulder serving to be a cushion for his chin. You could only sigh and roll your eyes at his childish attitude, your hand far too busy jotting down answers from the library book you've borrowed; not once bothering to stop even as his grip on you tightened even more

"Ace, what are you- Hey!" The mischievous male had pulled away the library book before promptly slamming it shut; an audible thump resonated from the impact. Gradually, the book was held up into the air, bouncing from left to right to avoid you from ever reaching it. "C'mon and grab it already! Or you actually that slow witted, prefect?!" Grumbling under your breath, the book was so close in your reach, only for it to just be bounce away again; the notion clearly screams mockery to your entire being

"Stop playing around and give it to me!" This time, you stood up from your seat; catching the redhead off guard. You were sure that your fingers grazed the book but it seems like the male had the upper hand. Yes, he did momentarily loosened his grip but he never did released his arm around your waist. "Not so fast!" Regaining back composure, Ace was quick to pull you back down but in the process he had unintentionally forced you to sit on his lap; a bit too hard he think. Luckily you were too busy cursing him out! If only you could see how flushed his face was, he was praying that you wouldn't feel the rising tension in his pants; he'd never live it down!

"There you are, Pre-PREFECT?!" With a rough yank to the collar, Ace winced in pain before turning his head sharply to see the perpetrator; no other than Deuce Spade who's gritting his teeth in anger. "The fuck's wrong you?! My neck felt like it was about to snap into two with how hard you pulled my shirt-!" Without breaking eye contact, the blue haired male tugged your arm, effectively pulling your figure away from the scowling redhead "You!-Don't you have any respect for (Y/N)?! Just because you're one of her close friends doesn't mean you can do whatever you want!" Ace squinted his eyes to Deuce's words, brows furrowed in confusion. "What are you even on about?! We didn't do anything! I didn't do anything!"

[multi-fandoms-posts]

The Game of Control

X Men Masterlist

In their loft, Y/N, Paddy, and Cal sit on the couch. The air between them crackles with tension. Y/N leans back, relaxed, while Paddy is restless beside her. He constantly tries to take control—he always does—but Y/N knows how this game works. It only makes it more fun for her to break him every time.

"When are we leaving?" Paddy asks demandingly, his voice firm, as if trying to steer the situation. He leans closer to Y/N, playing with a strand of her hair, as if that would grab her attention.

Y/N smiles slightly but doesn’t turn her gaze toward him. She lets him squirm, just like he hates. "Patience, Paddy," she says calmly, leaning over toward Cal. "Everything in its own time."

Paddy grimaces. "Patience? We've waited long enough. I say we just storm in and get it done."

Cal, noticing Y/N's calm composure, grins slightly. He watches as Paddy writhes, trying to dominate, even though he knows he’ll never truly be in control. Paddy always fights, and Y/N simply finds it amusing.

Y/N slowly turns to Paddy and places a hand on his chest. She feels him tense, his desire for control almost palpable. "You always think you know how it goes, don’t you?" she asks quietly, though her gaze is sharp.

Paddy grins challengingly. "Someone has to take charge, right?"

Before he can continue, Y/N pulls him toward her, pressing her lips firmly against his. The kiss is rough and hungry exactly what he craves. He immediately tries to take the upper hand, grabbing her neck as if to pull her closer. But Y/N laughs quietly to herself. She lets him believe, for a moment, that he’s in control, only to snatch that illusion away just as quickly. With a swift movement, she pushes him back into the cushions, her hand firm on his chest.

"You always forget, Paddy," she whispers, her breath warm against his ear. "I only let you do what I want."

Paddy growls softly, but Y/N sees him yielding. He hates it and that only makes it more exciting for her. The more he fights, the more she enjoys it.

Cal watches silently, his lips curling into a slight smile. "You should learn slowly, Paddy," he says calmly. "She always wins."

"Shut up, Cal," Paddy snaps, though his voice is raspy. He tries to mask his breathlessness, but Y/N can sense how much he feels her power and secretly loves it.

Y/N lets go of Paddy for a moment, turning her attention to Cal instead. Unlike Paddy, Cal is calmer, willing to follow her rhythm. She leans into him, her lips finding his, and the kiss is slower, deeper, as if she’s showing him how it’s really done.

Paddy watches them, and Y/N can feel the tension boiling inside him. He hates not being the center of attention, but that only makes the game more thrilling for her.

"You always want control," Y/N says, briefly breaking the kiss with Cal. "But you know you'll never really have it, right?" Her hand slides over Cal's back, and she feels him relax under her touch.

Paddy snorts. "We'll see," he says, the familiar spark returning to his eyes. He leans forward, grabbing Y/N's arm as if to pull her toward him. But she’s quicker. Before he can react, she pushes him back again, this time harder. His breathing becomes heavier, and a small, amused smile plays on her lips.

"You always fight, Paddy," she whispers, stroking his chin. "And you know what? I enjoy breaking you even more."

Paddy growls softly, his hands sliding to her hips as if making one last attempt. But before he can do more, Y/N leans in and lightly bites his neck—just enough to show him who’s in control. He flinches, but she knows he enjoys it.

"You can keep trying," she murmurs, locking eyes with him. "But in the end, Paddy, you know you'll always do what I want."

Cal chuckles softly. "Give it up, Paddy. She’s already got you."

Paddy stares at Y/N, his breathing heavy, his body tense under her touch. And then, as if he finally accepts it, he falls back, his eyes fixed on her, full of desire and suppressed anger. He hates it, and that’s exactly what makes him even more of her plaything.

Y/N smiles, satisfied. "That's better," she whispers as she settles between the two of them. "You both belong to me, and you know it."

The night is still young, and the game far from over. Paddy will keep trying, and Y/N knows she’ll enjoy breaking him more every time.

[berryhobii]

Hello!! Could you please do a drabble about the first time the MyPerson! couple had a sexual moment? I feel like reader would expect a shy Namjoon, since he is on his day to day quite calm and collected, but he would surprise her being nasty and obsessed with her

Hi! Thanks for the request! I hope you enjoy!

The first time you and Namjoon slept together was after a phone call you had with one of your friends from America. Eventually the conversation steered to you and Namjoon and your lack of sex. You two had just moved in together which was exciting in itself but with this came a lot of newfound revelations.

One was that you and Namjoon had yet to be intimate despite being together for almost a year and a half. It’s not that you didn’t want to, the situation just hadn’t presented itself yet.

Namjoon wasn’t necessarily shy. He was eloquent and knew how to voice himself, not afraid to tell you if he was uncomfortable.

However, he was a little stiff when it came to physical affection. Kisses and hugs were fine but stuff like sitting on his lap or wandering hands caused him to freeze up. You never pushed, comfortable with simple affection but you did wonder if something was wrong. Was he attracted to you? He must be, right?

Namjoon returned home after a long day of work, his worries melting away when he caught sight of you standing at the door. After a tight hug and a few kisses, you parted. Although, you couldn’t help but notice the throb between your thighs after pressing yourself against the muscled physique of your man. Damn, he was hot.

You followed him through the apartment and to the bathroom where he washed his hands. “How was your day?”

He sighed. “Same as always. I have some time off to use though so I’ll be home all week.”

You came up behind him, pushing your thumbs into his upper back to relieve some of the tension he had there. He groaned, head knocking back as he melted into your touch. You had to bite your lip to keep your own moan inside. He was not making this any easier and you know he didn’t even know the affect he was having on you.

“That’s good. You should be relaxing. Maybe we can go for a picnic or have a massage.” That second one was more of a suggestion for yourself. You definitely needed something pounding all of his sudden stress out of your body.

You hadn’t even realized just how horny you were until you actually thought about it. You were a healthy young woman with a healthy sex drive but honestly, you’ve barely thought about sex or even giving yourself a little self care since you started dating. It just hasn’t been on your mind. Namjoon provided you with a different kind of intimacy and connection that felt more fulfilling than sex.

He turned around to face you, leaning back against the sink, dragon like eyes staring at you. You suddenly felt like he was picking every atom of your being apart.

“That sounds great, baby. I just want to spend time with you.”

Fuck it.

Grabbing the collar of his shirt, you yanked him to your body, capturing his lips in a feverish kiss.

He made a noise of surprise, almost falling over but regaining his footing and reciprocating the kiss. You made out for a little bit, your hands traveling down the planes of his chest and to his abs. Your manicured nails felt him up over his clothes, already hating the fabric for separating you.

Namjoon pulled away first, your lips chasing his but he held you back, a little chuckle coming from him. “Baby, what’s going on with you?” He sounded breathless, his chest falling and raising as he tried to regain his breath.

You bit your lip. Now was a better time than any to speak your mind.

“Namjoon…..I love you very much and I’m so glad to have you in my life but I’ve been wondering….”You clenched his shirt in your fists. “Why haven’t we slept together yet? Do you not want to? Are you not attracted to me in that way?”

Silence passed between you two and insecurity immediately started jabbing you like a bunch of tiny needles.

You shouldn’t have said anything. You knew it! How would you two ever recover from this?

Although suddenly, his silly laugh made you look up, eyes widening. What the hell?

His eyes sparkled with mirth, those dimples you loved to kiss popping in both of his cheeks. He was so handsome.

“What?” Your mouth dropped. “What’s funny?”

His laughter died down to little giggles. “You are, baby.”

If you could blush, you probably would be but that’s impossible against your melanin. Good thing embarrassment didn’t discriminate and came in many forms.

“What?”

Suddenly, his hands grabbed at your thighs, lifting you up and turning you around until you were sat on the counter. With one hand, he pressed into your back so that you were arched into him, breasts pressed against his chest.

He leaned closer to you, his minty breath cascading over your face, dark eyes staring into yours. Never had you seen him wear such an expression on his normally kind and youthful face.

Like he was ready to devour you.

“Of course I’m attracted to you. Have you seen yourself? You don’t know how many cold showers I’ve had to take after seeing you bounce around in your little gym shorts.” His other hand went to squeeze at your ass. “I just wanted to respect your boundaries. I didn’t want you to think sex was all I wanted from you.”

Your hands traveled across his shoulders to wrap around his neck and pull him closer to you. “I’ve never thought that. You’ve always made me feel safe.”

His smile was genuine and so was his love. Why were you concerned again? You couldn’t remember.

“I love you.” You whispered.

“I love you more.”

And you sealed it with a sweet kiss.

Pulling away, Namjoon used both hands to grip at your ass, pulling a shocked squeak from you.

“Now why don’t I show you just how attracted I am to you?”

Something told you that you were in for a long night.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

~

“Ohhhhh my goddddd….”

“Arch your fucking back, there you go. Good girl.”

How many times had you came? You lost count after……did you know how to count? The only thoughts in your head were Namjoon, faster, harder, and whatever other jumbles of syllables his cock forced past your throat.

Your hands had managed to pull the sheets off the bed from how tightly you gripped them. Drool dripped down the side of your mouth, your hair sweated out from your silk press, and your nails actually hurt a little from how hard you’ve been grabbing everything.

Namjoon’s hand pressed into your back, keeping your arch in place, the other squeezing at your ass cheek to reveal your creamy cunt sucking him in. Condoms weren’t even a thought between the two of you but that was a worry for later. He knew he should be being more responsible but how could he when your pussy was juicier than a peach and sucking him in like you wanted him to stay? Fuck, he was obsessed with you.

“J-joon…..please! Y-y-y-you….” You wanted to call him a fucking animal since you two have been going for close to 2 hours now but you were sure he knew that already. You’d be sore as hell later but who the hell cared when he was jabbing into your soft spots as if he had studied your body like a book just before this.

“That’s it. Cum on my cock. You thought I wasn’t attracted to you? I’ve been wanting to fuck you since I met you. Now I will. Every. Fucking. Day.” Each word was punctuated by a thrust, his cock punishing your walls like you were being scolded.

You were in for it now. Hopefully for the rest of your life.

[tiredflowercrown]

my colors are yours (just a bit lighter)

I'm sorry this is a bit late but I hope it's enjoyable still. But here's your gift, @auradon-bore-a-don (for @descendantsgiftexchange )

There’s something isolating about being a third, about being the one left out of the loop. Audrey had known this feeling for years. It started when two sets of handwriting appeared along her arms. A triad soulmate pairing was seen as wrong, as a misalignment. When it became clear that the others were from the Isle, well of course they couldn’t be her soulmates.

Time went on. Audrey never wrote on her arms. Never even showed them. That wasn’t particularly unusual for royals of course, so she had an excuse. But when Ben showed his and it clearly wasn’t her handwriting. Well. There isn’t much to say.

It had become increasingly obvious that her soulmates knew each other, that they were in love with each other. Declarations of love covered her arms. Flowering words of devotion were as common as air. It was due to said words that she recognized her first soulmate.

Uma’s arms were bare in her dress. Her love clear as she spoke of being invited over for the betterment of the Isle, her pretty lies caught Audrey’s attention even over the radio where she first heard her. She had been truly entranced by the smooth voice. It was only when Chad showed her the video that she knew.

Harry was obvious. If his constant bare arms didn’t tell her then his unwavering love for Uma did. He sought her out like a turtle to the sea, an instinct that never steered him wrong. She wondered what it would feel like to be loved like that. To be loved and treasured above all else. To have someone’s undying loyalty.

But alas, she knew she could never have it. It wasn’t her place to be loved. She was a prize, a pawn, a royal. Nothing more. Nothing less. So she avoided them. Never attending any VK events or diplomatic meetings which might hold them. She hardly even reached out to any of her friends, if you could even call them that anymore, out of fear that either of the two would be near. If she was so drawn, so curious, from just videos who knows what she would do when she met them. No, it was far safer for her to stay away.

This policy worked until Ben forced her hand, if she didn’t attend this event she would be ostracized from high society, seen as untrustworthy and forever outcast from her old friends. So attend she did.

It was a darling holiday party, supposedly it was a gala but party suited the event much better. The VKs made sure of that. Drinks, noise, and laughter abound through the hall. Joy and playfulness echoed in the space, tangible in every breath. She was so distracted she hadn’t noticed until it was too late that she was bumping into someone.

Audrey had been stepping out of a conversation when she had stepped directly into one Gil LeGume’s way.

Bump and Splash.

“Woah, You good?”

“Does it look like I’m good? Oh this is going to stain and ruin everything.”

“Here let me help get that jacket off.”

“No, I don’t need your help.” Audrey protested, but the damage had already been done. Her jacket had fallen off her upper arm, showing words that Gil knew in a heartbeat.

“Well hey, those are Uma and Harry’s words.”

Ben, who had seen the initial bump and was making his way over, stopped in his tracks. ‘It couldn’t be, could it?’ Getting over himself, he finished making his way over to the pair who were now arguing over whether or not to go meet and show Uma. It was only due to his presence that Audrey gave in.

Uma met Audrey with distrust in her eyes. Harry even more so. It was weeks later before they learned enough of why she hid, before they trusted her. A few months before they welcomed her into their relationship. It wasn’t a fairytale ending, they had disagreements and fights, but who said soulmates had to be perfect. They just had to be right. And they were.

[galionne-diging]

You were asking for Arukenimon/Mummymon prompts? Well here's some - 1. The duo meet their alternate universe counterparts (y'know, X-Evolution and Ghost Game for Mumm, Survive and Ghost Game for Aru). 2. An AU take on their relationship, where their feelings for each other are inverted (i.e. she's head over heels in love with him, he's far less interested) 3. An AU where everything's the same, except Aru's a guy and Mumm's a girl (but NO abuse!)

Oh thank you so much! These are all so good!

I'm going to do just one for now and save the others for later (otherwise this will take forever) ; but know that I already have something written down for each prompt!

Linen Fascination

(Mummymon & Archnemon's relationship- reversed)

A cloud of dust followed the buggy as it roared through the empty, deserted landscape. Nothing stood on the horizon for miles except for the occasional cacti and dried up bushes dotted here and there. There was no road ; not even a cleared out path to follow. Mummymon had to remain completely focused on his surroundings to avoid potholes and rocks sticking out of the arid ground. As a result, it took him a little longer than usual to notice the movement on his left- until a face framed by delicate silver-gray hair appeared in his field of view.

Arukenimon’s face crept closer and closer, to her companion’s annoyance. Mummymon rolled his eyes. She rested her chin on his arm, looking up at him, grinning.

“-Put your seatbelt back on, the man in blue sighed, If something happens to you, Oikawa will have my hide.

-I’m not scared of him, she teased playfully, If he gets mad I can protect you, you know.

-Seatbelt.

-Hm… And what if I don’t want to?”

Arukenimon watched as Mummymon lifted his right hand without looking at her, keeping his eye on the road and his left hand firmly on the steering wheel. Before she could say anything, two linen wrappings shot from the inside of her driver’s sleeve with such force it pushed her back against her seat. She felt them wrap around her upper-chest and shoulders and slip behind her seat, effectively tying her down. She let out a cry of surprise- followed by a loud and dramatic huff.

"Ugh, you're so mean…”

She gave an almost comical pout- one which unfortunately went ignored by her target. When she realized she was not going to garner any reaction from him she resorted to removing the wrapping herself ; groaning and twisting in her seat until it finally slid off. She clutched the linen in her hand and looked over at Mummymon- and couldn’t help the grin that reappeared on her face.

There was something… Exhilarating about him.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Maybe it was many different things. Maybe it was just one. All she knew for certain was that she loved him.

She wished she got to see his face more. He always hid it under his hat and behind his tall collar, upset at how inhuman it looked. Ashamed, even.

She didn't understand.

His face had always captivated her.

She loved the sharpness of his teeth and the way they rested so delicately over his lips. She loved his eye, golden with gentle specks of amber, piercing her with a stare she had never seen from any human. She loved the color of his skin, dark gray like a rolling storm.

He didn’t need to look “human”.

“Human” was nothing. “Human” was boring. “Human” was Oikawa, their boss, a pathetic man who only knew to sulk and yell orders and be upset. Mummymon was so much more than that… She always admired his devotion to their work. The cool temper that allowed him to keep a clear head no matter the situation. His will to push forward. Even the way he kept her at a distance gave him a kind of mysterious charm she could never get enough of. It was like a game ; one she had to win before he drove her mad…

“We need to find BlackWarGreymon quickly, before he throws another tantrum like the child he is…” Mummymon sighed irritably.

Arukenimon hummed playfully and leaned towards him again, earning a groan and a huff from her companion. She nestled comfortably against him (or at least as close as the seatbelt allowed) and rested her head over his shoulder. She brought two fingers above his arm and pressed them down, slowly ; ever so slowly in a pretend strut over the blue fabric of his coat.

“Mmh… I know BlackWarGreymon is quite the handful, but he's still important to us, don't you think?"

Mummymon paused for a moment, thinking. After a moment he nodded. Arukenimon grinned.

"-You're right… He's a strong Digimon, if we can regain control over him we could-

-We made him together!"

Oh. Right. That’s what she meant…

“-You made him, I had nothing to do with-

-We made him together. We created him, we gave him life… When you think about it, we’re just like parents to him… He’s not just any child, he’s our-

-I hate children.” he cut her off dryly before she could finish her nonsensical rambling.

Arukenimon was so taken aback by his tone that she fell silent. Then again, she didn’t know what else she was expecting from him…

She let out another dramatic sigh and slouched back into her seat.

Right, she had to win the game before he drove her mad…

It was just a shame she wasn't very good at said game.

[jicklet]

One Day at a Time Appreciation Week | Favorite Ship ↳ Penelope x Schneider (Alvareider)

“And hey, I’m always here for you.” / “You don’t have to do that alone.”

[steddie-thirst]

Sweetheart | Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader |

Summary: Eddie discovers he likes sweet things and that included the sweet little thing at the bake shop. He just can't get enough of her or any of her baked goods.

Warnings: cursing, fluff, language, and smoking. Eddie is an absolute idiot in love.

Eddie has an addiction to all things sweet, so when he met you, he slowly but immediately grew an attachment to you. You were sweet as can be and not to mention a little foreign.

"Eddie, are you seriously dragging me down with you again?" Gareth whined, looking over at him as he drove, knuckles clasped tightly around the steering wheel. Headed towards the one place he always found himself trying to avoid, but never could. You were something he could never get enough.

"Gareth, you're my handy dandy wingman." Eddie argues with a grin. "Plus I know you crave those little chocolate croissants." Gareth pouted knowing full well he was right. His weakness for bread was just as great as Eddie's desire to see you. Equality.

You were hard at work in the front of the bakery, checking our customers and preparing cakes. A bakers job was never done until each dessert was fully decorated and being one of the only bakeries in town things were almost never slow. You finished the touches up on the last cake order, icing the last few dollops of a rose onto the base of the cake, before handing over to the awaiting couple. "Here you are, have a lovely evening." They thank you endlessly and scurry out the door signaled with a bell.

Things are quiet for a split second until the bell from the door goes off once more, followed by two pairs of voices, both familiar. You wipe your hands clean of icing and turn to face the customers. "Hello, welcome to-Oh!"

Eddie joined by Gareth walk up the counter eyeing the desserts kept in the display. "Afternoon, sweetheart." Eddie greets you with that signature grin and a cockiness that drives you to giggle.

"Hello, Eddie. Gareth." He nods to you and then turned towards the display of which he noticed one of the cases was void of any baked goods, particularly the croissants he adored, "Uhm are you out of the croissants?"

You smiled knowing Gareth's love for the particular sweet, "For now. My mother is finishing the dipping now." His lips spread into a smile and Eddie rolls his eyes.

"He's obsessed. Maybe he needs therapy for his addiction." He leans over the counter to be closer to you, elbows keeping his upper body propped up.

You grin, "Let me guess. You'd like a slice of the strawberry cake?" The way your accent laced the sentence made it even more dreamy. He always wanted to communicate on the level you did with your mother always shouting something demanding, yet loving in the same language.

"You know me so well. How does one say strawberry cake in French, sweetheart?" He asks curiosity getting the better of him. You ring him up for the same item along with Gareth, and he pays as you mull the question over.

"Well, just strawberry would be different than saying strawberry cake. So, le fraisier is just strawberry. Strawberry cake is pronounced, Charlotte aux Fraise."

Eddie hums as you hand him back his change flashing a smile his way and slipping on a pair of gloves to prepare the necessary items. Your mother walked to the front and placed down a fresh tray of croissants and passes with a phrase of love towards the customers.

"Eddie, c'est bon de te voir!" She smiles waving to him before he greets her back.

Putting you in shock as they effortlessly flow from his lips, "Bien, à vous aussi. Continue le bon travail sur ces desserts, ils sont à tomber par terre." You smile, a heat spreading through you. It was nice someone took the time to understand you and the language you so closely shared.

Eddie watches as you slide the slice of cake over the table with his two croissants, Gareth ordered. "Thank you, Eddie. Enjoy." When he reaches for the plates, before you can pull your hands back his own capture your wrists in a gentle hold.

"What I would enjoy is a date with the sweetest thing in Hawkins." A blush creeps onto your cheeks and up to the tips of your ears. Eddie was always such a gentlemen and now he was asking you out, you felt joyful.

"A date?"

"Un rendez-vous avec moi." Eddie confirms and you giggle nodding happily.

"Oui. Je suis libre, vendredi." You respond a bit smugly and Eddie chuckles, going to sit down with Gareth and deliver the good news. So, that very evening you and Eddie went out on a date. Enjoying not only good fun, food, and a movie but each other's company as well. He was genuinely nice guy.

"Eddie, you're nothing like what the town says you are. A freak." You are gentle, almost careful with the next few words. "Kind enough to get to know me, my mother, and my language it says a lot about you. Not to mention how much you support our shop." Your hand squeezes his own hand to reassure him.

Eddie chuckles a smile spreading onto his lips, happy to finally have someone to understand him. "It's not just me being nice, I like you, Belle. The sweetest, but most brilliant girl in all of Hawkins." Your hands start to swing back and forth according to Eddie's arm leading yours in the motion. "You're my everything." He sighs, stopping and turning to you.

TAGLIST:

@yaspillz @dahliamae @munsonloverblog @off-phelia @strangerthingsstories5255 @fujiihime @shyposttree @damon-loves-pie @fanficfanatic204 @seratoninsickness @k0urti @thatlonelypieceoftoast @marianita195 @phantomxoxo @wittlewowa @buchanansbaby @rollergirlworld @allithewriter @555stargirl555 @gothguitargal @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @carol-munson @ali-r3n @letmebeyoureuphoria @cherry-omi @harrys-tittie @yearwalker96 @lipglossanon @thepastdied @brittney69 @jessevans

[taechaos]

Blackmail

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Jimin offers you information on Jungkook, but your friendship is misconstrued by Jungkook who ends it singlehandedly with one video of you professing your love to him between moans.

warnings: dubcon, fingering, degredation, mild squirting, manipulation

word count: 2.8k

a/n: jealous kook doesn't realize he's jealous. this part is a bit extreme, so beware ><

One doesn't come across someone like Jungkook every day. It's fate that you met him in your first year of college, extending to your second where he grows closer to you; fair, it's clear that he only intends to use you for his academic success, but you've deluded yourself into thinking you're in love with each other. Growing up, you only had your dysfunctional family to teach you about how to love, how to think. As long as Jungkook needs you, he will love you, and you’re willing to do anything to be with him, only him. You need him to live.

Birds sing in the background as you lay on your stomach on the grass of the yard across the campus. It’s sunny and breezy, the perfect spring day as you work on Jungkook’s research paper due next month. You compiled multiple credible sources in a separate file to create an outline for his essay the moment he forwarded the assignment to you. You want him to praise you, pet your hair, kiss your cheek for starting so early so he can turn it in before anyone else. He would be proud, flashing you his pearly whites and adoring eyes. The reward motivates you to work harder and you’re relentlessly skimming through articles while counting down the minutes of Jungkook's lecture. He'll be outside with his friends in 7 minutes.

With a bad childhood, you don’t care to befriend many people. You only have a few friends to keep you company and you’re socially awkward outside of that group. You’re content, so you steer clear of boys who try to sabotage your relationship with Jungkook. Jimin, however, doesn’t get the memo.

Typing away on your laptop, a shadow looms over you to give you a break from the sunlight. You glance up and stop swinging your legs absentmindedly when you recognize the shadow; it’s a boy with frames and a tight collar adorning his neck.

Park Jimin is a typical nerd whereas you’re more of a closeted nerd. When you’re in love, you usually put more effort into your appearance to impress the one on your mind, but that doesn’t work with Jungkook. It’s always other men giving you their attention through second glances, and that includes Jimin.

“What do you want?” you rudely greet. Jimin is ruthless with his attempts at pursuing you; he’s the perfect gentleman, and often volunteers to do group tasks with you. He is never mean to anyone, and has a squeaky clean reputation, but his only flaw is that he can’t take a hint. You don't bother being friendly to him because you don't want friends.

"I want to know why you look so happy," he bends over to curiously glance at your screen, "while doing homework?"

You slam the monitor closed to stop his ogling. "You wouldn't get it. And stop watching me," you sternly say.

"What's your secret?" he grins and sits down on the grass next to you with crossed legs. His upper body serves as a shade and you stop squinting.

"There is no secret, I was just in a good mood until you came along." You're not upset, but you don't want to lead Jimin on and he won't leave unless you blow him off.

"Thinking of Jungkook?" he teases with a mischievous smile.

"Are you stalking me?"

"No, you're just too obvious," he chuckles, but the sound is strained. You don't notice his melancholy as he continues, "You were doing his homework again?"

You shift on your propped elbows a little uncomfortably. Jimin doesn't need to know what you do in your free time. "Yes," you answer anyway.

"You know he has daddy issues?"

Your eyes round as your discomfort dissipates instantly; he's piqued your interest. "Really?"

"Yeah, he has a tough exterior but he's actually a real softie."

An involuntary smile carves on your face before it falters as you ask, "How do you know this?"

"We went to high school together. I can tell you some stories if you want," he boasts when he realizes he has your attention. The context makes his heart sink, but when he imagines your lovesick grin is directed at him, it fills him with joy.

"Tell me, tell me! Please."

"Weeell," he draws with a lopsided grin, "don't tell him I told you this, but he used to hate girls. I don't know if he still does, but back then he couldn't even stand talking to a girl."

"Why?" your eyes are wide with interest as you whisper.

He shrugs, "No idea, but he hit a girl once when she wouldn't stop clinging onto him. Not like drop-kick her," he laughs, "he just shoved her on the ground. Be careful with him, okay? He can be very aggres-"

"You guys forming a nerd club now?"

You gasp when you hear Jungkook's voice. When you look up at him, he's almost glaring as his eyes flicker from you to Jimin. You're gleeful at his approach, because he never comes to you unless it's about a new assignment. It flutters your heart to see him without any papers in his hand.

You don't take his subtle insult to heart as you immediately respond, "No, we were just talking. H-Hi."

"Pull down your skirt, you look like a whore. I can see your panties all the way from the gates," he seethes in distaste. You instantly sit up with a blush and tug your skirt down to your knees. He looks back at Jimin who's glaring at him under his lashes, "The fuck's your deal?"

"Nothing," Jimin grits. Although he hates Jungkook's guts, he's too smart to fight a lost cause. He has his own set of muscles, but it isn't enough. It's best to accept defeat now.

"Did you start on the paper?" Jungkook asks you.

"Yes, I-"

"Good," he cuts you off and crouches to peck your lips by pulling the back of your neck. You're stunned when he pulls away and nonchalantly walks off to his friends.

Jimin follows him with his eyes and mutters under his breath, "douche."

Your heart is racing and you clamp a hand over your chest as a lovestruck smile spreads across your face. You know this is your end of the bargain, but it never fails to shrivel you up in delight.

"Are you two dating?" he mumbles as he pulls on the grass with a pout.

"Something like that," you exhale as you caress your lips.

It’s become routine to link up with Jimin where he reminisces his high school memories and you don’t doubt a single word he says unless it sheds a bad light on Jungkook. You’ve learned so much about him in the past few days, and you’re eager to know more. He likes energy drinks to this day, he was athletic in school and often got into fights. He began interacting with girls when he entered college, as Jimin says, “only for a quick fuck.”

Though it hurts Jimin that you only talk to him for information on Jungkook, he can’t bring himself to care when you hang onto every word he says with a glint in your eyes like you’re doing now.

You're sitting in the bustling cafeteria across from Jimin, sipping on a homemade strawberry lemonade from your thermos, and you don't notice Jungkook glancing at your table every now and then. It is the first time he doesn't feel your heavy gaze on him. Jimin does notice however, because he is facing him every time he receives a threatening ferile look.

"He could become a lawyer with how much he blackmailed the teachers to give him a good grade," Jimin tells you as he glances back and forth between you and Jungkook. "He's quite dangerous, you know. He's manipulative, a liar and has no empathy-"

"He's clever," you counter defensively, "he knows how to get around the system."

He makes a disgruntled noise from the back of his throat with a grimace. "I don't think the judge would listen to that."

You laugh at his comparison of the conversation to a court hearing. Jimin can be funny sometimes, and you have to admit that he's not that bad of a friend either. You've come to enjoy his company without the topic of Jungkook the past few days, but talking about him is always appreciated.

"Are you the judge then?" you cheekily ask.

"I might as well be, since I'm not biased like a certain someone," he teases with a grin.

"A lawyer has to see the bright side of things, but if I was the prosecutor, I wouldn't tell you that your lecture is in five minutes."

His smile falters as his eyes widen; you remember his schedule? He ran late for a lecture yesterday, but he’s in disbelief that you reminded him today. "Th-Thanks," he breathes as he packs up his belongings before giving you a curt, shy nod. His heart pounds when he walks away, and he resists the urge to look back at you.

It's a good idea, because that's when Jungkook settles down on his former seat.

"I'm thinking you might be forgetting who you belong to," he starts as he gets comfortable on the stiff chair. You instantly smile at his appearance.

"No, I'm very well aware of it." Your tone is high-pitched in excitement.

"It wasn't a question."

"Oh..."

“You talk more than you work,” he observes with a quirk of his brow. “One would think another nerd would be a better influence on you.”

“I work at night,” you defend worriedly, “I promise I’m not slacking off. Can I get a kiss please?”

You’re so adorable when you’re needy. He hides a smirk with a bite of his lip; he thrives from your loyalty to him, but he knows Jimin is a threat to it. He wants you to stop talking to that freak, and he justifies it as a concern for his grades. “I’ll kiss you when you’re not procrastinating. Do you think you deserve even a pat on the head?”

“I do! I’m halfway done with the research paper, please Jungkook,” you beg pathetically, “I-I’ll show it to you, I have it with me right now.” You start unzipping the case of your laptop until he holds up a hand for you to stop.

“You’re going to read it to me, but not here.”

When he stands up, so do you in a haste. He leaves the cafeteria with you hot on his tail, almost jogging when his strides are much bigger compared to yours. You resemble a clueless lamb following a lion, desperate to hold his claws with your hooves. You don’t know where he’s leading you as you walk down the halls until you stop in front of a door. You’re about to freak out when he swings open the door, but you realize the lecture room is empty.

“You want me to read here?” you inquire meekly. It’s a little intimidating to do it in complete silence, because you have a tendency to stutter when reading out loud and you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Jungkook where no one can talk over you. 

“Yup.” He snatches your laptop case from your hand with the handle, and roughly opens it before placing the device on the front row wooden desk. It’s a large hall, and the desks stretch out to the half of the room. You’re feeling stage fright for no particular reason; it feels like reverse claustrophobia. “Open the document and give me your phone.”

You don’t question him and hand in your phone before going through your files on the laptop. Jungkook is looking through your contacts and grins when he finds himself saved as: the love of my life ♡. Jimin is saved by his name, and he finds his WhatsApp through his information below. Once he opens your empty chat with him, he switches to your camera and pushes your back so you’re bent over the desk. You sharply inhale and ask, “Kook?” 

“Don’t get distracted now,” he lightly scolds and starts pulling down your pants. You stopped wearing skirts after the incident a week ago to appease him. You stammer with your back arched, and your ass is on full display for him. It’s humiliating. “Start reading.”

“H-Humans are- Jungkook?” you warily look back at Jungkook when he slides the slit of your panties to the side.

“Are you slacking off?” he condescends. 

You bite your lip anxiously and continue reading, “Humans are social animals that n-need social interaction,” Jungkook spits in his hand, “the extent of our social relationships is the most important predictor of h-happiness.” You squeal when you feel wet fingers graze your folds, but you know better than to stop and ask what he’s doing.

“Continue,” he coaxes softly as he brushes his fingertips over your pussy lips. 

“Um, o-one of the main reasons our brains have developed the way they have is so that we can be social,” you speak between shaky breaths. Your cheeks are tinted crimson with embarrassment from his touches; why is he pleasuring you when he specifically told you, you didn’t deserve any? “Being happy a-all of the time is neither possible nor desirable.”

“Is it now?” He slips a finger in your cunt and you involuntarily let out a cry as you push your body forward. You don’t notice him holding up your phone behind you while slowly sliding his finger in and out of you. His saliva is mixing with your arousal as you answer in a gasp, “Yes.”

“Tell me why.”

“B-Because negative feelings are natural. When it comes to negative feelings, the most important thing to remember is to learn,” you pause to exhale with quivering lips, “to control certain potentially harmful thoughts.” You whine his name when another finger is added to your heat. You’re moving your hips back and forth until he slaps your wet folds as a warning. “Sorry,” you peep and continue in a breath, “Happiness all of the time entails epistemic irrationality.”

It’s difficult to keep your eyes open when you just want to indulge in his thrusts, but you’re encouraged to stop reading when he doesn’t comment on your moans. His pace is quickening and you chase his fingers with your hips, cum dripping down his wrist as you mewl.  

“You enjoying yourself, whore?”

You nod and whimper, “So much.” You’re clutching the edge of the desk as he fingers you with fervor.

“And you're my girl?” 

“Yes, all yours, I love you so much,” you pant, not stopping for a moment to question his words. He has a full view of your sopping wet cunt on the camera, and he lightly blows on you, making you shiver. He’s recording you confess your love for him while getting fingered.

“Only me?” he presses.

“Only you, Jungkook, I love you more than anything,” you slur as you start to feel a knot in your stomach.

“Then pee.”

“Wh-What?”

“Touch your clit and pee.” He removes his fingers from your clenching hole and takes a step back. “Prove your love to me.”

You mourn the loss of his hand while staring wide-eyed at the floor. You’re contemplating his demand as your hand slowly reaches down to your clit. Is he asking you to squirt? Your breathing is shallow as you near your climax, and you still don’t know if you’ll go through with his requirement.

It drips out in tiny drops as you come undone, moaning as clear liquid spills out of you for only a few seconds. 

“Good girl, my good little girl,” Jungkook whispers as he intently watches you humiliate yourself in the name of love. You’re twitching and trembling in shame when he stops recording you and sends it to Jimin without a second’s waste. “Are you okay, baby?”

You hum with a pout as you collect yourself by standing up straight, a sway in your posture. 

“Give me your panties, you’ve made a mess on the floor,” he chastises as he holds out a hand. You slip and step out of them before giving it to him. In return, he passes your phone before feigning a gasp, “Shit, I think I sent Jimin a video of you when I was trying to forward it to my phone.”

Your mouth falls open as heat consumes your entire being. “H-Huh?” Tears brim in your eyes almost instantly; your heart is pounding from anxiety.

“How will you ever look at him now,” he empathizes with a fake frown. “He must think of you as such a slut now.”

“Let me delete it,” you panic as you open your phone. “Wh-Where is it?”

He motions you to give him the phone and opens WhatsApp after. “He’s already seen it.” There are two blue ticks under the message.

“No, no, no,” you pull your hair in agony with a whimper. You quickly put your pants back on and cry as you do so.

“I guess that’s the end of your friendship,” he raises his eyebrows to himself without a hint of sympathy.

“What do I do?!” you wail and fling your hands in stress.

“Avoid him. I’ll make sure he won’t leak it.”

He steps forward to lean in your face intimidatingly. “And don’t talk to him ever again.”

You don’t exactly have a choice now, do you? 

[pregnant-piggy]

The Crow’s Nest

The Crows x reader

words: 12.1k

warnings: underage drinking, fire, character death, guns

A/N: am I slowly indoctrinating you with my pirate obsession? perhaps... ;) this is based on a dream I had while reading the first book and it wouldn’t leave me until I had written it. Let me know what you think of it! <3

translations (part real languages, part fictional):

Teufel -- devil

Fortell meg -- tell me

Jer elsker pe -- I love you

Faen -- fuck, damn

Goede morgen -- good morning

The grey waves hit against the hull of The Teufel, rocking the ship back and forth in the restless water. The howling wind creeped around every corner, finding even the warmest spots to cool the air and sparing no one from its breeze. The old sails fluttered in the force of the wind and loud slaps could be heard whenever the canvas hit against the mast. Little raindrops were falling from the sky, creating a layer of damp on everything in the open. 

Thunder sounded far away in the sky, back in the open sea, but The Teufel was going the other way. Kerch was approaching steadily and if the winds didn’t turn suddenly, the ship would reach land before the sun had fully set. 

The coastline of Ketterdam, the city The Teufel would arrive at, was peculiar with its high buildings and built-up streets. The lights of the city lit up the sky like an orange halo in the darkening heavens. 

You leaned with two arms on the railing of the ship, watching the city approach over the water. Behind you the strongest members of the crew were working on the sails, steering the schooner into the right direction. You listened to the shouts and orders with half an ear, imagining what the city of Ketterdam would be like and where you would go after the ship had moored. Unlike many of the older ones in the crew you had never been to Kerch before. In the last two years The Teufel hadn’t gotten close to the island, finding enough profit near the coasts of Novyi Zem. Three weeks ago, however, the captain had ordered to turn the sails and head South, much to your delight. 

Your entire life you had heard stories about Kerch. When you were very little, you had asked your grandmother over and over again to tell you about her trips to Ketterdam. Though you had been too young to understand most of what her stories meant, you had adored how your grandma was able to take you to a different world with her words only. It was a gift that you most admired and one that she had passed on to you. 

Your parents passed away in a futile attempt to protect the town against the brutality of the land’s council. You had been just seven years old and the surviving neighbours hadn’t known what to do with you, so you had been sent to a boarding school in the countryside. Far away from the danger of the city they’d said, but you had known it was just to get rid of you. You had grown up in a strict environment, in a house full of stern teachers and meek children. But even there you hadn’t forgotten about your grandmother’s stories. Although the students thought you were odd, they would all gather around you in the sleeping hall after midnight when the teachers were to bed and you would tell them a story the same way your grandma had told them to you. 

The older you had gotten the more trouble you’d seemed to cause. Obeying the rules had soon proven not to be something for you, at least not when you thought the rules were useless. With every year you’d grown older, you had found more ways to plant mischief. The punishments had gotten harder every time but you had refused to bend to their rules. Eventually they had been the one to give up and they had kicked you out of the school. At the age of fourteen you had been a homeless orphan only good for trouble. 

For weeks you had travelled on your own and you had ended up at the harbour, where you had stumbled upon The Teufel. At first the captain had refused to take you on; he had no use for a child. It had been your talent to speak Kerch, Ravkan and a little bit of Fjerdan that had gotten you on board the ship that would become your new home. 

For the past two years you had travelled along with the crew, learning to live on the ocean. Not a moment you had regretted your decision. The crew had accepted you as part of their family. The captain, Nerseh, had taken you on as his own daughter, learning you the tricks of maintaining a crew. Mayranoush, the quartermaster, was a strict woman who had at first scared you because she had seemed to be so much like your teachers at the boarding school. After a while you had gotten used to her, however, and it was from her that you had learnt how to shoot and how to read people’s faces like an open book. From the sailing master you learned how to read maps and the gunners had tried to teach you how to aim, but you had never mastered that skill. Stefan had taught you how to fight with a sword, Marina taught you the ropes and Hai learned you basic first aid and other cures that were necessary in combat. 

In two years you had learned enough to make yourself useful on the ship and you had grown from just their translator to a valuable member of the crew. The Teufel was your home and you could not think of a better place for you. 

“Are you excited?” Stefan stood next to you and followed your gaze to the skyline of Ketterdam. 

You tore your eyes from the city and looked at the big blond man with his bright blue eyes. When you first stepped on the ship he was the first one of the crew to approach you and you had been surprised by the Fjerdan’s conviviality. Your teachers had always taught you that the people from Fjerda were cold and distant. But ten minutes spent in Stefan’s company proved all of that wrong. He had guided you in your first weeks and now he was your best friend, and your first friend. 

“I am,” you nodded. “I’ve been dreaming about this place since I was a toddler. I can’t wait to see what it's like.” 

Stefan smiled at you and leaned down on the railing next to you, his arm against yours. A warm feeling washed over you and sparkles shot through your upper body. The wind had died down to a light breeze and your hair wavered behind your neck as the wind blew directly into your face. A scent of smoke, burned sugar and oil filled your nose and you closed your eyes, taking in the smell and registering the different scents. This was the essence that your grandmother had talked about and now you were experiencing it yourself. 

When you opened your eyes you noticed that Stefan was watching you intently. You smiled and raised one arm from the railing so you could turn to him. He wanted to say something to you, you could see it in his face. “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” he stammered, his pale cheeks blossoming red immediately. 

“Fortell meg, Fjerdan,” you ordered Stefan to tell you and, though you didn’t think it was possible, his cheeks got even redder. 

The big, blushing man looked away from you and cleared his throat. His gaze was pointed at his feet and then he turned it to the horizon. The wind was playing with the blond curls of his hair, that looked golden in the light of the setting sun. He cleared his throat again and then he mumbled something. 

“I can’t hear you, doofus,” you laughed and nudged your shoulder against Stefan’s arm. “A little louder, please.” 

Stefan sighed and turned his head to look at you. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on your upper arm. The feeling of his warm hand on your bare arm made your heart flutter. Your lips parted and you sucked in a little breath. 

“Jer elsker pe,” Stefan whispered. I love you. 

Your heart stopped. The pulse in your chest disappeared for a moment and when your heart beat again, it did twice as hard. Stefan was no Heartrender but you were sure he could hear your heartbeat too. 

“Stefan, I—” you started, taking Stefan’s other hand in yours. 

However before you could go on, Captain Nerseh appeared from his hut and started shouting over the main deck. “Stefan! I need you up front!” Nerseh said and he walked to the forecastle deck, ordering the rest of the crew on his way. Stefan was still standing in front of you, your hands holding his but his face turned to the captain. This one turned around. “Now, please!” 

The Fjerdan let go of you and hurried away, leaving you on your own. You held onto the railing for support as you felt your weight shift to your legs. All the excitement you had felt just mere minutes ago had now completely vanished and you looked around panicky. Not even a lifetime on sea could have prepared you for that. 

-=-=-

The Jolly Roger was changed for a neutral flag with the colours of Novyi Zem and The Teufel navigated into the Fifth Harbour of Ketterdam. Once the anchor had been lowered and the ship lay still, a small party was sent out to get stock while the others were free to go wherever they wanted. 

Stefan was sent with the quartermaster, Mayranoush, and Hai for food and ammunition and he was off the schooner before you could follow him. You watched him leave the Harbour, standing on the main deck. His blonde hair shone in the last rays of sunshine and he was visible for a long time, until his figure disappeared in the bigger crowd. Gone before you could talk to him. 

“I want y'all back at twelve bells,” Captain Nerseh said and he waved the rest of the crew off. 

Hesitantly you walked off The Teufel onto the docks. The first few steps were wobbly and uneven, as it had been a few weeks since you had last walked on land, but after shaking your feet and legs, you got used to walking again. Those familiar tingles, that you always got when walking on shore after so long on sea, shot through your legs and you were filled with a mix of anxiety and excitement. 

Here on land the scent was even stronger, luring you into the streets. You glanced back at The Teufel over your shoulder and shrugged off the uneasy feeling you got at the thought of leaving your home behind in the harbour. Pulling up your boots a little, you turned away and stepped into the city, finally experiencing what you had dreamed of for so long. 

The streets of Ketterdam were unlike any other place you had ever been. Big crowds of tourists and inhabitants were moving as one through the small streets of the Lid. Men, women and children all walked through each other, barely taking notice of the persons passing them. The lights coming through the shop windows casted yellow and white shapes on the cobblestoned ground, with which the shadows of the people danced. 

You followed the crowd into the buzzing parts of town, falling in step with the other tourists. Many years ago your grandmother had told you that the Lid was filled with gambling houses and it was the place where the most tourists stuck around. And indeed, as you walked on the crowd gradually got thinner with people leaving right and left to fall into the temptation of the colourful buildings decorated with bright lights. Faint music combined with the loud chatter of people in all languages hung in the salty air, like a blanket that was thrown over this part of the city. 

However, all that you could think of was Stefan’s face and his words. Jer elsker pe. In a haze you walked through the busy streets, hearing Stefan’s voice over and over in your head. His touch was imprinted on your skin, the place where his hand had been was burning hot on your arm. 

You had known, that was the worst part. For a few weeks you had known. You had sensed it whenever he was looking at you or when he was touching you. The look on his face was different from before. There had been a softness on the Fjerdan’s face that hadn’t been there before. A weakness. It was an undeliberate thought, but it made its way in your mind anyway. If the past ten years of your life had taught you one thing it was that you had to hide your weaknesses. From enemies and friends. 

It had been a particular hot night at the boarding school and you hadn’t been able to sleep. That day a new girl had arrived at the school and she’d sat down next to you at breakfast. Many of the others had scowled at her but she had ignored them and instead introduced herself as Lotty. It was the first time that someone had voluntarily come to you and the rest of the day you had spent getting Lotty familiar with the school and its surroundings. 

You’d heard the girl stirring next to you and padded over to her. Upon seeing your face, a smile had spread on Lotty’s face and you had whispered: “Want to get out of here?”

Very cautiously you and Lotty had left the sleeping hall and on your toes you had run through the empty corridors of the school building. All the teachers had been asleep already and the big clock in the hall had showed that it was two hours after midnight. 

The front door had opened with a small squeak and the dark night air had welcomed you and Lotty outside. The gardens of the boarding school surrounded the entire building with grass, flowers and low bushes. A sweet, humid scent had hung in the air, the result of the sun that had shone on the flowers all day. 

You and Lotty had sat down in the middle of a flower bed and you had told her about everything. For the first time in your life you’d felt like you had a friend and you had trusted her with some of the secrets you knew about the school’s building. For hours you two had sat outside, until the sun had started to rise and the petals of the flowers had started to collect the morning humidity. As you had gotten up, you’d put your hand on the ground to push yourself up and you felt something crawl under your palm. You had squealed and stumbled back quickly, staring in disgust at the place where you had put your hand. There on the ground a thick spider had quickly crawled away under the flowers. 

Lotty’d started to laugh and you had scolded her. Spiders had always scared you and no matter how much you’d tried to get over it, whenever you saw one you couldn’t help but shudder. 

Back at the sleeping hall you had fallen into a restless sleep for the last few hours, dreaming of a thousand legs and jaws. When you’d woken up, Lotty hadn’t been there and at breakfast she had sat with the other children, not with you. 

The next morning you had woken up with something crawling up your arm and the sound of laughter. 

And now Stefan had shown you his weakness. Though you would never use it against him like Lotty had done to you, there was something that bothered you now you knew his weakness. What if unintentionally you would cause him trouble or danger?

“Watch where you’re going!” a man sneered and he roughly pushed past you. 

You shook your head out of your thoughts and looked around. The bright gambling dens had been replaced by small, tall and crooked houses made by all different sorts of bricks and wooden beams for support. The streets were still busy but this was a different crowd. People with comical masks and cloaks moved in little groups, quickly and rushed, as if they were afraid someone would stop them. A few people wore gaudy suits and moved proudly over the streets, their hands in their pockets. The others wore more ragged clothes in dark colours and they walked with their heads down to the ground. 

You were in the Barrel, undoubtedly. The gambling houses were still there, but more scattered. Still they weren’t much different from the ones on the Lid; a lot of dramatic lightning and flashing colours, all so that the most people would come in. 

The East Stave was on your left. You had refused ever to step foot near the brothels on the West Stave. The horrid stories that your grandmother had told you had already been enough to keep you away and the rumours you had heard from the crew on The Teufel had only added to that. 

Your legs were getting tired from walking so much and the unnerving thoughts were still whirling through your head. On The Teufel you would have searched for Stefan and gotten drunk with him hidden somewhere on the deck, but Stefan wasn’t here and The Teufel was far back in the harbour. So instead you searched for the least ostentatious building and eventually settled on a gambling club called the Crow Club. 

A silver crow hung over the entrance of the club and you looked up to it as you walked under it, entering the building. You stepped into a big hall that was parted in two by a lowered floor in the back. The black lacquered walls had no windows and all sense of night and day was lost as soon as you stepped inside. The little clock around your neck told you it was little after ten bells. That meant that you had one hour and a half before you had to go back. 

You sat on one of the crimson stools at the bar and ordered a drink from the man behind it. He eyed you for a moment and you noticed he was contemplating whether to give someone your age a drink, but he seemed to decide that profit is profit and poured you a drink. You watched him while he worked for a moment. He was not as old as you had thought him to be. The only wrinkles in his face were near the corners of his mouth and the cracks next to his eyes. His skin was dark bronze and his hair pitch black, almost like the walls around him. And what he lacked in height he seemed to be making up in strength, as his arms were muscular and he looked strong enough to throw a man twice his size out of the place. 

The drink burned in your throat, but you threw it all in anyway. For a moment your gullet was on fire and the next moment it was gone. The years among a group of adult pirates had learned you how to take your drinks. 

You asked the bartender for another and you didn’t miss the surprise on his face, but turned the other way, looking at the parlor around you. Most of the tables in the lower part of the room were occupied by a variety of people. In the left corner of the room sat a couple, their feet entangled under the table, but their eyes fanatically looking at the other. 

At a table closer to you sat a woman in a bright red dress with feathers in her hair. From your place you could see the cards in her hand and if you stretched your neck a little you could also see the cards of her neighbour. The table was playing Ridderspel, a simple card game played with the lower numbers of the cards. It was a game to make little money quickly and one of the most played card games in gambling houses everywhere. 

The woman had two sevens, an eight and a four of the crow-marked cards in her hand and she pushed forward four little red chips when the dealer asked to place the bets. Her neighbour pushed forward two grey chips and the man opposite of her one grey and one red one. The dealer collected the chips and stacked them in the middle of the table. 

On The Teufel you had played many games of Ridderspel with the crew. However, after a while they had banned you from playing games for money. It hadn’t taken long for you to see connections between the faces of people and their cards. You could see a pattern in the order they played their cards and knew after showing the first card of the game who would win.

It had started with Ridderspel. One dark night under the light of a lantern you had been playing the game with Stefan and two others of the crew, Vinay and Cilka, when you had noticed that whenever Cilka got her cards the lightest frown would form on her face if she didn’t get good cards. It was invisible to anyone else, but you saw how her eyebrows would twitch shortly. You knew that everyone had their tells, some more obvious than others, but after that night you had searched the others’ signs. Vinay’s shoulders would slump a little if he had bad cards and Stefan’s eyes would flicker shortly over the table if his cards were good. 

After you had learned their signs, you’d noticed that there was a pattern in the way they played their cards. If they had bad cards, they played the highest first, hoping to at least get a little out of the game. If they had good cards, they would hold their highest cards for the end, but they wouldn’t play their lowest card first either. It was a complicated strategy, a difficult trick on your mind, but after months of examining the game, both playing and from afar, you found the pattern. From there on it wasn’t difficult to find the patterns in other games and soon you were banned from playing games on the entire ship. 

However, whenever you were on land and there was a gambling house in the city, the crew would often ask you if you could just play some games so they could get some money. You knew that with you playing at the table the game wasn’t fair anymore, but you would do it night after night if that meant you could do something for your crew. 

Now, you knew that the woman in red had a good chance of winning the game. She tapped her fingers on her thigh and kept staring at her cards. So much for a bluffing face. The dealer asked to play the first card and the woman threw one of her sevens on the table. Not the highest and not the lowest. Her neighbours answered by throwing an eight and a five. 

The next round was played and now the woman played her four, receiving another eight and a seven. She is playing out her opponents. If they wanted to win, they would have to change the course, but you feared it was already too late for them. The woman threw her eight on the table and the others a seven and a five. The last card was played and at her seven, the woman got a six and a four. 

As the dealer started to count the points you turned away; you didn’t need to count the points to know that the woman in the red dress had won the game. 

“Another one, please,” you said to the barman in Kerch and he nodded at you. Curiosity could be read off his face even by those who didn’t have your talent of understanding facial expressions. 

When he gave you your glass his eyes lingered on your clothes and you realised how idiotic you must look in this environment. Though the people in the hall weren’t all wearing evening dresses or three-piece suits, you knew that someone in a black jacket and leather boots to their knees would stand out. Consciously you stroke a hand over the braids in your hair and looked at the bartender. 

“Don’t worry,” he said as he noticed your looks. “Many tourists come dressed up.” 

You tilted your head to the side and hesitated telling him the truth. Figuring there wouldn’t come much trouble from doing so, you sat up and shook your head. “These are my normal clothes.” 

The barkeeper cocked an eyebrow and then went on with cleaning the glasses. You stared at the brown liquid in your glass before you knocked it back and softly placed your glass back on the bar. The movement caught the attention of the man behind the bar and he lifted the bottle, silently asking if you wanted another one. 

“Sure,” you answered and pushed your glass forward. 

The way the man filled the glass reminded you of how Stefan used to fill your glass. While you preferred to drink straight from the bottle, he would always insist on taking glasses from the galley. 

“We can at least pretend we’re fancy,” he’d say, as you were hidden in the shadows of the back of the ship. 

A faint smile played on your lips as you thought back of Stefan, but your inside burned as you heard his last words back in your head. Jer elsker pe. The truth was that you weren’t quite sure if you loved Stefan back. He had always been close to you and you appreciated him being such a good friend to you, but you didn’t love him the way he loved you. At least, that’s what you thought. You had never really experienced love before, so how could you know what it felt like? 

“Maybe you should slow on those,” the bartender said as you placed yet another empty glass on the bar. 

“No,” you rasped, fighting the burn in your throat. “I’ve had worse.” 

“I can stop giving you, y’know?” the man said as you lifted your glass again for another. 

“And not get paid? You wouldn’t.” 

The barkeeper laughed and poured you another glass. This time you didn’t immediately drink it all, but you turned around on your stool and looked at the biggest table on the floor. It was an oval-shaped table, lined with the same crimson of the seat you were sitting on, and around it sat seven people. Dice lay in the middle of the table, surrounded by grey, black and red chips and a stack of cards. 

Even in the noise of the other tables and people walking between them, the conversations at the big table were clear. 

“You’re bluffing!” the man on the right shouted. He was big in all aspects someone could be big. The hems of his trousers were too high up his legs and the sleeves of his jacket were too short. The golden buttons of his blouse were about to burst and his hat kept sliding off his head because it didn’t fit well. His appearance was only mimicked more by his dark red cheeks and the little drops of sweat that were rolling down his face. 

“Am not,” the lanky, dark brown man on the other side of the table said. He had a wicked grin on his handsome face and seemed to be in his element. His feet were lying on the edge of the table and he held his cards loosely in his hand, like they were to fall any moment. 

“How could you—? You don’t— No one—” the big man started and the colour drained from his face. You had missed what the beginning of the conversation was, but surely it was not something the big man wanted to come out. 

“Maybe you should try to keep such information to yourself,” the tall guy said. “Now, are you in or out?” 

The surrounding men at the table nervously shifted in their seats as they looked at the big man. He patted his head with a silk handkerchief and stared at his cards for a moment. A new set of sweat seemed to pour over his forehead and eventually he threw his cards open on the table. ‘I’m out.’ 

The man got up from the table and he hurried away, followed by the other five men. They walked past you in a queue outside and when they were all gone, the guy at the table smiled pleased.

“He was bluffing,” you noted, after taking a quick glance at the cards that were lying open on the table. 

“What?” the barman asked, who had watched the play with you, and you were reminded that you were not alone. 

A warm rush spread in your cheeks and you turned your head to the bartender. “That guy was bluffing to scare the man away.” 

The man squeezed his eyes at you and said a little too late: “Why’d you think that?” 

“Look at the cards on the table,” you said and peered back at the big table. “That man on the left had two of the highest and the person two seats from him had another. I can’t see the cards on this side of the table, but whatever they are, this guy can never have enough to win.” 

The barman looked at you for a few seconds. “How do you know?” 

You looked out over the hall, scanning the games on other tables. “You learn things,” you shrugged and then nodded to a little table closer by. “See that guy? How he is glancing between his cards and the dealer’s hands?” The barkeeper leaned forward over the bar and looked at where you were pointing. “He has good cards and is trying not to let anyone notice it.” 

The man leaned back from the bar and filled your glass without you even asking. He rested one hand on the bar and looked at you. “Where did you learn that?” 

“Well, you have to do something on a ship,” you said, swirling the drink. “Eventually staring at the stars all night gets a bit boring.” 

The barman snorted laughingly. “You’re from a ship?” Then he looked at your outfit again and he nodded. “Now that makes a lot more sense,” he mumbled. “When did you arrive?” 

“About an hour ago,” you answered and pulled the clock from your blouse. 

Meanwhile, the handsome guy from the big table walked to the bar and he greeted the bartender as he sat down one seat away from you. You looked at him from the corner of your eye and stopped at the guns on his hips. The clock lowered without you realising and you gave up on trying to hide your stare. 

The two pearl-handled guns shone in the light from above and you shook your head in disbelief. Zemini-made revolvers were rare, and you would know. You had heard stories about them from your mates on The Teufel, but none of them had ever even had one in their hands. Only Nerseh in his younger years had owned one, but he had lost it in a battle. The Zemini guns were feared among your crew and there were two of them right next to you now. 

“See anything you like, darling?” the guy asked and your eyes shot from his revolvers to his face. He had that same mischievous smile on his lips and there was a glimmer in his eyes as he raised his eyebrow at you. 

“Those are pretty rare guns,” you said, ignoring the guy’s suggestive tone. 

He took one of the revolvers from the holster and let it twirl in his fingers. Though you didn’t want to, you felt a shiver run down your spine at the ease with which the boy handled his guns. You had gotten quite familiar with your own guns, but you had yet to learn that. 

The boy must have seen your googling eyes because he smiled a bit more real now and said: “I know, Zemini-made. You don’t find that very oft—” 

“Faen!” you interrupted in Fjerdan, using the word that you had heard Stefan say so often. You had looked at your watch and realised that it was much later than you had thought it was. It was already a quarter till midnight and it would take you at least twenty minutes to get back to the harbour. You jumped from your seat, threw some coins on the bar and straightened your coat, mumbling: “Stupid windowless walls…” 

Without sparing another look at the two guys you left behind you stormed out of the Crow Club into the street. Rain was pouring down from the sky and you shivered at the sudden cold. For a second you looked around and scanned your surroundings and then you hurried off in the direction you had come from. 

People passed you in a blur of colours and shadows as you ran over the streets, desperately trying to find a way back to the harbour. The captain wouldn’t appreciate you being late and it would most likely cause you a night scrubbing the deck on a night you actually had been free. But perhaps Stefan would accompany you. 

Your mind automatically seemed to find a way to think of your best friend. The situation in the gambling hall had taken your mind off him for a minute but now your logical senses were numbed by the alcohol the Fjerdan was back again. Stefan could’ve easily found his way back. The boy could find a route almost everywhere, even in a place you had never been before. He would just follow the direction of the sun or look at the leaves on a tree and know where you were. 

But Stefan wasn’t there to guide you back. He was probably already back at The Teufel, waiting impatiently on you. 

Every alley looked the same and all the gambling houses had the same flashy lights. You didn’t know if you were moving forward or just running in circles. Somewhere above in the sky you heard the twelve bells that told you you had to be back already. With the feeling you had passed the house on the corner of the street three times before, you ran on, ignoring the protesting people if you ran into them. You almost fell over your own feet and nearly stumbled into a girl dressed all in dark clothes. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, pushing away from her softly but when you turned around to her she was nowhere to be seen on the street. You were too much in a hurry to worry about that and ran on, sighing in relief when you saw the fluorescent lights from the Lid. 

The Lid was filled with more people than the Barrel you ran from and it was harder to manage a way through. You pushed and threw yourself between people, growing a little nauseous from the smell of so many bodies together combined with the smells that came from the kitchens around. As you hurried through the tourists, your breath was high in your throat and you could feel your heart beating in your head. Heavy breaths fell over your lips but you refused to take a moment to rest. 

The glittery lanes were soon exchanged for the dark open space of the harbour. The cobblestones echoed the sounds of your footsteps as you ran. People shot you weird looks as you raced past them. 

The closer you came to where The Teufel lay, the busier it became, but instead of searching for a reason you just hoped that you could still make it past them. However, the crowd became too big for you to run as fast as you had and you slowed your pace slightly. You zigzagged between people and pushed them aside, getting various insults thrown at your head. As you came closer to the inner circle of the crowd, you realised that they weren’t just randomly standing there; they were standing around The Teufel. 

You stopped running completely and approached the busiest part of the crowd at walking pace. Now you weren’t focusing on your own thoughts you heard that the people were all muttering and talking with each other—and that the people closer to the water were screaming and shouting. 

The few people that stood in between you and your destination you pushed aside softly and the closer you got the more you felt a strange heat on your face. When the woman in front of you stepped aside, your jaw dropped. 

There, in the water, right where it had been when you left earlier this night, lay The Teufel completely in flames. Not a single part of the main deck had been spared, flames were reaching high up in the sky, eating the masts like a monstrous creature. Thick dark grey clouds hung above the ship in the dark blue night sky. The flames curled around the hull of The Teufel, like a devil claiming its prey. Wooden walls collapsed, iron melted and ropes caught fire, sending the flames up to destroy the crow’s nest. 

Among the chaos on the shore and the sound of the fire, all you could think about was one thing. My family. The shouting and cackling couldn’t drown out the screams of terror that came from the belly of the ship. Cries for help, prayers to all gods and saints. Your crew was in there. Your people were inside of a burning ship. Your friends and family. They were all trapped. 

It could have been you. If you hadn’t lost track of time, you would’ve been there with them. You would have arrived before the twelve bells, gone inside with the others and would be trapped in there now. It could have been you, but instead it was your crew. And you didn’t know what was worse. 

There was nothing you could do. No way to run on the ship and free your mates without catching fire yourself. No way to stop that fire that was capturing The Teufel. No human could do it, no grisha either. This was more than an accidental fire, this was controlled. Don’t fight a bigger power without knowing its weaknesses. It was a phrase your father would say to you whenever you had been mad at the world as a child. The advice he had ignored before he had gone to fight his way into death. You didn’t know what the fire’s weaknesses were, if there were any weaknesses at all. All you could do was stand on the shore with your hands clasped over your chest and your eyes stuck on what had once been The Teufel. What had once been your home. 

The screams of the crew were engraving themselves in your mind, cutting you open and leaving deep wounds. The last bit of your hope had been left behind on that ship and was now burning away, leaving nothing but a hollow chest. 

Time passed by as you stood on the shore, watching the last remains of your home falling apart. You didn’t look away when the fire burst through the portholes in the hull of the ship and you didn’t flinch as you heard the last sounds you would ever hear from your crewmates. You took it all in, soaked your mind in the pain, feeling the shock and terror making place for fury. One day, you promised yourself. One day you would find a way to get revenge. 

You knew that in a city like this news would spread fast. Surely before sunrise all the people in Ketterdam would know of the ship that had burned away in Fifth Harbour. You wouldn’t be safe; not from the questions of the people and not from whoever had done this. You were sure that they wouldn’t be too keen on having missed someone from the crew before they blew it up. Chances were big that, if anyone ever found out that you had belonged to The Teufel, your days would be numbered. 

Fortunately you hadn’t told anyone you were part of The Teufel’s crew. Anyone but the barman at the Crow Club. You hadn’t literally told him, but you were sure he could put two and two together. 

Once the fire had been settled and the ashes of the wood were only still smoldering, you straightened your back. You would find the barman and ask him not to tell anyone. Or perhaps you would find your ending in the streets of the Barrel. The Teufel had been your home for two years, but it was time to get moving. 

-=-=-

The Crow Club stood proudly in front of you. Rain was running down your face, following the lines of your neck into your blouse. You were cold and your entire body was shaking but you knew that was more from the shock than the rain. In the back of your head you still heard the screams but you tried to block them out as you stepped to the gambling house. 

As you walked closer to the entrance, a boy stepped in front of the door, blocking your way. He was huge with arms full of tattoos and a mouth full of crooked teeth, some of them missing, and when you approached him you realised he was watching you. He expected me. This guy had been waiting for you, he had known that you would come back. How could he?

Hesitating you went forward. You had already seen the gun on his belt and you were quite sure if you turned around and walked away he wouldn’t be afraid to use it. In front of the boy you stopped and leaned to the side to look inside the building. 

“I’m sorry, could I go inside?” you asked, your voice mellow and innocent. “I would really like to warm up a little.” 

The man just tilted his head to the side and his lips turned into a stupid grin. His hand rested casually on his gun, though you knew that all his moves had been precisely calculated. Whether by himself or someone’s orders was your next guess. 

“You better follow me,” the boy said and his eyes glassily looked at you. 

“Do I have a choice then?” 

“No.” The man took his gun from his belt and easily pointed it to your chest. If he shot now he wouldn’t kill you, just harm you. So he wants me alive. 

“Fine, fine,” you mumbled and lifted your arms in the air to show you were defenceless. 

The guy roughly pushed you away from the door and held the barrel to your back as he led you away from the Crow Club. 

You weren’t sure why the boy didn’t just put a bullet through your head. If he was part of whoever had burned down The Teufel, why would he want you to stay alive? The rest had been murdered mercilessly, what did they have in mind for you? 

However, if he wasn’t not part of the fire, why did he want to have you at all? You couldn’t think of anything you had done wrong or of any danger you could be. You were pretty much just a harmless teen in a strange city. 

The man pushed you through the street and over a bridge. You made a few turns into small alleys and streets, passing houses in all shapes and kinds. Behind some windows flickered a soft light, others were dark. You heard screaming from one house and music from the house next to it. Laughter of children and cursing from adults. 

You stopped in front of a house that looked exactly like all the others; crippled and on the brink of collapse. The guy held his gun to you as he kicked open the door and then pressed the barrel deeper in your back to make you walk. Slowly you passed over the threshold and stood still in the hall of the house. 

Much different from what you had expected, the inside of the house was not damaged like the outside. While the colours and construction did look old, the house was built to survive for longer than just a few years. 

“Up,” the man mumbled and he nodded to the stairs. 

You followed his order and headed up the stairs, feeling your legs ache from all the walking on land you had done in the past hours. Though you got used quite fast to the difference, a sudden change from sea to shore did have its effects on your body. Especially if you crossed an entire city twice in one night. 

The staircase led to a landing with many doors. The house wasn’t particularly big and with that many doors, you figured the rooms must be small. You wondered what this house was used for. It almost had the feeling of a hostel, but there wouldn’t be many guests if putting a gun to someone’s head was their way of advertising. 

“That room,” said the guy and he gestured at one of the doors in the corridor. 

The wooden planks creaked under the weight of your body. The door of the room was closed and the man with the gun knocked on it with much more restraint than you expected from someone who had just abducted you from the streets. 

It was silent for a moment as you and the man waited for the door to open. Your heart was beating in your throat and you swallowed deeply. Nerves were running through your body, sending tingles down to your fingertips. 

The door opened and before you had time to look inside, the guy pushed you inside and closed the door again behind you. You were inside a small room, with a bed, a chair and a closet that put half the room in shadows. On the wall opposite of the door was a little window, showing the side of another building that stood next to the house. The window reminded you of the portholes inside the hold of a ship, your least favourite place as there was very little light. 

However, the room didn’t have much space in your mind as your attention was caught by the person in the room. He could not be much older than you yet it felt like this boy had more character than an old man. His face was hidden in the shadows but you could make out the hard lines framed by sleek black hair. His eyes shone like emeralds under his dark brows and there was a malicious glance in them when they rested on you. 

“Sit,” he spoke and the rock salt rasp of his voice sent shivers down your spine. “Please.”

You sat down on the simple wooden chair in the middle of the room, though you rather would’ve kept standing. The boy was towering over you now, standing in front of you, leaning on his cane. Your eyes slid to the silver handle under his gloved hands. It had the shape of a crow’s head.  

 “Who are you?” you asked, trying to calm the nerves you felt rushing through you. You weren’t necessarily afraid of the boy, but you also couldn’t deny the unease in your body.

The boy cocked his head to the side and the smallest wicked grin played on his lips. “An hour ago a ship was set ablaze in Fifth Harbour,” the boy said and you looked away from his stern gaze. “The Teufel. A rather bold way of naming a ship, after the devil, isn’t it? Nothing is left of The Teufel, no plank, no crewmate. Or at least, so is said. That is why you are here, not y/n?” 

Your head snapped up to the boy and your eyes narrowed at him. “You know my name?” 

“I know lots, y/n, and your name happens to be on that list,” the boy said and it was a little harder for him to hide his smirk. He’s enjoying it, you realised in disbelief. This is what he’s trained for. “I also know that you are the only living crewmate and that you visited my club this evening.” 

“Your club?” You frowned—he seemed way too young to have a successful gambling club. 

“Yes, my club,” the boy repeated and he shifted his weight, letting a sigh fall from his lips. “You sat at the bar and ordered more drinks in two hours than an average adult would in four hours.” 

You looked back at your feet. You knew you had trouble staying away from the drinks, but that didn’t make it any nicer when someone pointed it out. At sea it had never really mattered—the others had drunk with you and as long as you did your duties successfully the captain didn’t care if you were sober or not. 

“You spoke with no one and just watched the games, until my barman got some information out of you,” the boy went on and you felt his gaze on you. “He said you were able to determine the outcome of the game after just the first card was played.” 

“So?” you shrugged. Surely that was not why the boy had gotten you there and it was definitely not something that was on your mind right now. All you could think of were the screams and the longer you sat in the dark room, the more cramped it became. 

“Can you?” 

“I don’t see how—” 

“Answer the question.” His voice was hard and cold, but laced with curiosity that he failed to hide from you. 

“I guess I can, yes.” 

The boy stayed silent for a while and the tension in the room reached for your throat. You had never been one for small rooms, that’s why you had chosen for the sea. And now the anxiety of all that had happened that night was piling up on your chest, like someone pressing down on you. The walls were closing in on you, leaving you gasping for breath. Your clothes were still wet and your hair stuck to your forehead and neck, but you were no longer cold. 

You clenched your hands around the fabric of your blouse, feeling it crumple between your fingers. But even in your panicked state you could see the change in demeanor in the boy. He planned this. He had known this would happen, he had deliberately put you in this room, knowing what it would do to you. 

“What do you want from me?” you breathed, looking up to meet his eyes, and then added with an intensity you didn’t know was in you: “Did you kill them?” 

The hard expression on the boy’s face fell for a moment as he looked at you. For a minute he turned into a boy his age, someone with a soul. “I promise you I didn’t kill them. I had nothing to do with the fire.” Then he straightened his back and slammed his cane on the floor, pulling himself out of the moment. “I have business. We’ll continue in the morning.” 

The boy limped to the door and the cane suddenly made more sense. He pulled the door open and stepped through it when you interrupted him. 

“Who are you?” 

He looked over his shoulder and casted a dark glance at your figure. You had stood up from your chair and were still holding onto the back for balance. There was an expression on his face that you couldn’t read and you feared that it wouldn’t be the last time that happened. 

“Kaz Brekker. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

-=-=-

The mattress you were lying on was lumpy and hard, forcing your back to straighten in a way it never had to. The blanket was itchy and heavy and pressed hard on your chest, not allowing you to take deep breaths. 

You were shifting in and out of sleep, unable to tell reality from imagination. One moment you were staring at the dark ceiling above you, the next you were sitting alone in the hold of The Teufel. The room around you moved in front of your eyes, the shadows dancing on the walls. In the ship, water slowly rose around you. You tried to get up, tried to run away, but it was as if you were glued to the floor. Unable to move you sat waiting for the rising water to reach for your throat. 

Something moved in the room. It was a flicker of a shadow in the corner of your eye but enough for you to notice. You forced your eyes open, but the water was rising so quickly it was impossible for you to focus on anything else. The water level was at your jaw now. You took a final breath and the shadow in the room moved again. Closing your eyes against the water, it rose above your nose. 

Then there was more movement. The shadow was coming closer to you, moving with the grace of a cloud. 

Feeling the water on your face, you opened your eyes and shot up in the bed. The water disappeared and you were in the dark room again, shaking and coughing. Yet the threat wasn’t gone; the shadow was still in the corner. 

You shifted to the side and rested your back against the cold wall, looking at the shadow in anticipation. While your heart was beating in your throat, you calmly looked ahead of you until the shadow moved from the corner. 

“How did you see me?” the shadow asked and you shrugged. 

“You move like a spider.” And I’m afraid of spiders. 

Out of the shadows stepped a young girl, hidden in a flowy cloak that moved along with her. The lack of light threw a veil over the room, covering it with a black and white filter, but still you could make out the brown skin of the girl and her almost black eyes, that were staring right at you. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, though it would be no surprise if the girl had something to do with your meeting with Brekker a few hours ago. 

“Look,” the girl said and she moved to sit next to you on the bed. You caught a shimmer of something near her wrists, but when you looked at her she was wearing a light smile. “This isn’t the worst place to end up. You have walked through these streets; you know where you could have ended.” 

You thought back of earlier this evening when you were walking through the roads of the Barrel for the first time. The girl was right; if you hadn’t been brought to where you were now you could have turned into the colourless types that you had seen or, worse, you could have ended up in one of the brothels. 

“Kaz doesn’t just take anyone in,” the girl continued. “He must think you have some use, or he would have left you on the streets.”

You snorted; that wasn’t exactly a much better prospect. 

The girl must have guessed your thought because she chuckled shortly. “I know it does not seem like it now, but trust me—this is the right place to be.” 

Silence filled the room for a minute as you thought about the girl’s words. Instinct told you that you could trust her, and that her trust once lost, was lost forever. There were so many questions you wanted to ask her but you were afraid of the answers. You preferred mystery over knowledge right now. 

The shadow girl was looking at you with pity on her face, like she felt bad for your situation. There was sympathy behind her eyes and compassion in her touch as she placed her hand shortly over yours, giving it the lightest squeeze. 

“What’s your name?” you asked, your throat tightening at the threat of tears. 

The girl stared at you for a second and then she gave you a smile. “Inej,” she said. “But you might hear of me as the Wraith.” 

Inej got up from her place on the bed and walked to the door. Her cloak fluttered behind her through the air as she walked, falling against her legs when she halted. She turned around to you. “Kaz will send someone to get you in the morning.” 

“What will happen?” 

“I don’t know what he has planned,” Inej sighed. “But I advise you to go along with it, or it might be the last you’ll do.” 

She shot you a final smile and left the room silently. The shadow disappeared as quietly as it had come. 

-=-=-

You didn’t know if you had slept at all. Undoubtedly you had dozed off for a while, but for most of the night you had just lain on your back staring at the stains on the ceiling above you. When the morning sun had brightened your room, the hope that it might all be a dream had disappeared when reality came in crashing hard. 

The clothes you had worn last night had dried from the rain, but they no longer brought the comfort they used to. Here wearing those clothes meant that you stood out; you couldn’t blend in. When the same guy as last night had knocked on your door and ordered you to follow him you had left your jacket behind, deciding that the rest of your outfit was conspicuous enough on its own. 

Last night in the dark the house had been silent, but now you heard noise everywhere. There were many more doors than you had thought and behind every one lay a secret. The house seemed bigger now it was light. Although there was no direct sunlight in the corridors you could sense that it was day. Last night you had felt mystery as you had walked through the corridors but now it felt more like the boarding school you had gone to with all the whispers. 

“Where are we going?” you asked the boy who had brought you to this house. 

“Crow Club,” he grumbled and then kept silent. 

You walked the same route you had last night, but now the streets were deserted and the houses quiet. The Barrel was the part of Ketterdam that lived at night. 

The big, silver crow that hung above the entrance of the Crow Club like a guardian quickly came to your sight and you shivered lightly. Entering that club was what had gotten you in this situation and you feared you would only get deeper in this mess when you entered again. 

However, the big guy behind you left you no choice and before you even had time to think he had already pushed you over the threshold. 

Stumbling inside you were greeted by the same black, windowless walls and the same stuffed scent. The crimson stools at the bar were unoccupied but the tables on the gambling floor were played on, despite the early hours. Games of Ridderspel and Spijker were in full motion as you were led through a door on the side of the room. 

“Close the door behind you, Pim,” a voice from the shadows said and the boy who had led you there, apparently named Pim, closed the door. 

You looked at the strange scene in front of you. You hadn’t known what to expect but it sure wasn’t a gambling parlor. There was one big table in the middle of the room and around it stood eight chairs. Only one of the chairs was occupied and with a jolt you recognised the boy from the Zemeni guns. 

“Goede morgen,” he smiled at you as he leaned back in his chair. “Care for a game?” 

“What?” You stood rooted to the ground, staring in confusion at the guy at the table. 

From the shadows on the side of the room Kaz Brekker stepped. The loud, rhythmic thud from his cane on the floor was the only sound in the room as he walked to the table. He stopped in the middle and looked up at you with his hard cold gaze. 

“Play a game,” he said, resting his two hands on the crow head of his cane. 

“I don’t understand,” you tried. 

“It’s easy,” Brekker said. “You said you were good at card games, right? So prove it—play a game with Jesper.”

Jesper, the boy at the table, flashed his smile full of white teeth at you and raised his eyebrows. It felt like a trap, but you couldn’t forget what Inej had said to you that night. I advise you to go along with it, or it might be the last you’ll do. An invitation to a game wouldn’t be your end. 

Behind you Pim stepped closer to you and put his hand on your shoulder to push you forward. Within a second you had turned around and taken hold of his arm, twisting it dangerously close to breaking. The boy looked at you with somewhat of fright on his face and there was a little wave of triumph in your stomach. The emotions of the situation got the better of you and your heart was racing as you felt the anger rushing through your veins.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed through gritted teeth and pushed his arm a little further. “Understand?” 

Pim’s eyes flashed to the two people behind you and he recollected himself. He pulled his arm from your grip and stepped back to the door, avoiding your eyes and looking gruffly ahead. 

You turned around and found Jesper looking at you in awe and even Brekker couldn’t hide his surprise. Then you nodded at the two men and took a seat on the opposite side of the table. “Let’s play then.”

Brekker nodded approvingly and shuffled the cards with his gloved hands. Your eyes were glued to the smooth movement of the crows imprinted cards. They slid through the fingers of the pale black-haired smoothly like water. 

“I assume you know Ridderspel?” the gloved dealer asked as he placed four cards in front of you on the table. 

“Of course,” you said, watching Jesper intently as this one got his cards. 

Because everything in the situation was new for you, it would take you two or three rounds before you would get used to the game. All, from the cards and chairs to your opponent and the dealer, was unfamiliar to you and combining that with the pressure of supposably your life on the line only made it easier to overlook things. 

Therefore you had to pay extra attention, and mostly to Jesper. His easygoing attitude and big smile were dangerous tricks that could throw you off without any difficulty but you wouldn’t fall for them. You were looking for little things that would give him away, like the slightest falter of his smile, a tiny frown or nervous twitch. 

Jesper picked up his cards and you watched him from the corner of your eyes as you pretended to look at your own cards. For this round however those wouldn’t really matter. First you had to find Jesper’s tell. That you might lose and give him confidence was only an additional benefit; people made more mistakes when they’re blinded by the price. 

At first nothing seemed to happen. Jesper kept the same smirk on his face and played the round with nonchalance, taking all but one pair in the game. Triumphantly he leaned his chair back on two chair legs and stacked his chips in front of him. 

“Don’t worry love, you’ll get it later,” he said, giving you a wink.

You shot him a sweet smile back and took the new cards off the table. After one look you had them memorised and you looked at Jesper. He was looking at his cards with sparkles in his eyes, but yet again it was no different than before. 

Silently you cursed yourself. Last night he had seemed so open and easy to read, but you realised now that there were many more layers to the guy with the pearl-handled revolvers. 

Again you lost the game, now with all your cards being lost to Jesper. His pile of red chips was building and yours was only getting lower. You looked at your chips. If you didn’t win soon the game would be over and you’d lose, and you didn’t want to think what consequences that had. 

The third game were the last cards of the deck before it was shuffled again. Your hand was to your benefit with no card lower than six. You knew there weren’t many high cards, if any at all, left in the game since Jesper had beaten you with high numbers every time. That meant that he would have low cards and now was the perfect time to watch his reaction. 

You took a new approach to finding his tell. Instead of focusing on his facial expressions, that he proved to have under control, you now concentrated on his body language. His shoulders hung relaxed and his arms were resting on the edge of the table. Though you couldn’t see his legs under the table, you knew they weren’t standing neatly on the ground but were instead crossed or at least moving. Nothing in his posture gave him away. 

Until it did. It was a flash of a second, if you’d blinked you wouldn't have seen it. For a fraction of time Jesper’s shoulders fell and his arms stiffened. No one else in the room noticed it, but your senses became hypersensitive. 

Then, when you looked at his face, you saw more. His smirk wasn’t genuine anymore and the sparkles in his eyes weren’t as bright as before. It were minuscule changes, but big messages to you. 

“I raise,” you spoke calmly and you pushed forward the last of your chips. It was all or nothing. 

You saw Brekker raising his eyebrow in the corner of your eye, but you were focused on Jesper. His brows furrowed a little and he pushed forward the same amount. Though he had chips left, if you won this round you would have much more than he, meaning you won this game. 

“Let’s play,” you grinned and opened with your six, your lowest card, but still a rather high card. 

Jesper’s card would be crucial. If he had higher than a six, he would play that and you wouldn’t win the game. If he had a six, he would play that one  and the cards would be evened out, but you would know that the six was his highest card. If he played anything lower than a six it would mean that you had won the game, for no one would lose a round on purpose and play a lower card when they had a higher one. 

Expectantly you looked at Jesper. His smirk had gone and made place for a frown as he looked at the card on the table. His joyful bluffing face was nowhere to be seen and a sigh fell from his lips when he realised his defeat. He threw a five on the table and sunk back in his chair. 

With a grin on your face you played the rest of the round and won all Jesper’s cards. At the end of the game, you rested your chin on your folded hands and smiled at Jesper. “You know what?” you started and Jesper looked up at you. “I think I got it.”

-=-=-

Kaz and Jesper had left the room after the game and Pim was standing on the outside of the door, making sure no one would get in. They had not said a word to you when they left and now you were alone in the silent gambling parlor. At least, that’s what they wanted you to believe. 

“Inej,” you said. “Come out please.” 

No matter how focused you had been on the game, you hadn’t missed the little shadow sneaking inside near the end. And you hadn’t missed how Brekker’s eyes had shifted to one particular corner while he was watching your game with Jesper. 

The girl appeared from the shadow and silently walked over to you, giving you a small smile. “How did you know I was here?” 

“Because you wanted to be seen,” you simply said and by the way her eyes widened you knew you were right. “I don’t really know you, but I have the feeling you can be really invisible if you want. Me seeing you is not a coincidence or special talent of mine. You wanted me to see you.” 

Inej chuckled softly and shook her head. “How do you do that? Knowing what I feel by just looking at me?” 

You smiled and shrugged. “I had a tutor,” you said. “Mayranoush was her name. She taught me how to know people before they even see you.”

The memory of The Teufel’s quartermaster hurt. The weird situation you were in had taken your mind off the loss for a moment, but now there was nothing to distract you the pain came double as hard. 

You thought of your crew and how much you already missed them. Captain Nerseh and his brusque manners but warm heart; Marina and her cheerfulness; Vinay, who was the only one who still had wanted to play games with you. You missed them all so much and you couldn’t believe that they weren’t there anymore. 

But the one you missed the most was Stefan. He had been your best friend for the past two years, you had spent every day together and never had you thought you’d have to say goodbye. You thought of his last words to you. Back then you hadn’t known what to say, but now as you were sitting there without him you knew that you loved him too. But it was too late. 

“Jer elsker pe,” you whispered to yourself. 

“What?” Inej asked and you looked up. You had forgotten she was sitting next to you, so silent she was. 

“Nothing,” you mumbled and then turned to her. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Inej answered and she smiled at you. 

“Have you ever loved someone?” 

Inej’s eyes flickered to the door Kaz had just left through and then she looked at you in silence for a minute. “No,” she said finally. “Never loved like that. Why?” 

You stared at the upholstered table in front of you and swallowed away the pain in your throat. “I just… It hurts so much. Everyone always says that love is the most beautiful thing in the world, but no one ever mentions the pain…” 

“Maybe the pain makes you appreciate it more,” Inej said. “Often we don’t see what we have until it’s gone.” 

A tear rolled down your cheek and you shook your head. Inej was right; you hadn’t known you loved Stefan until he was gone. But that didn’t matter anymore. There was no way you could get the Fjerdan back and you wouldn’t turn into a mess trying to find one. You would keep your love for him deep in your heart until it was nothing more than a memory. 

“Life’s not fair,” you said and you wiped the tears from your face. “But I’ll get my even.” 

“How?” Inej asked and you turned to her. 

“I will find who burned down my home and I will destroy them to the ground they’re standing on.” 

“I suggest you find help for that,” the cold voice of Kaz Brekker said. 

You looked to your side to meet Kaz and Jesper. Pim was standing inside of the room again, still avoiding your eyes when you looked at him. Jesper was watching you with a smirk and he winked at you when he caught your eyes. 

Finally you turned to Brekker, who was looking at you with a peculiar expression. There was something playing around his lips that you would almost call a smile and his eyes had lost the ice cold gaze. 

“Who do you suggest?” you asked, looking up at Kaz. 

He shrugged half and said, before he walked away: “I have some connections.” 

Pim and he disappeared behind the door and you were left dumbfounded with Inej and Jesper. The latter placed his hand on your shoulder and chuckled. You looked between him and Inej and raised an eyebrow. “What just happened?” 

“I think you just became a member of the Dregs.” 

- - - - - 

special thanks to @awritingtree​ for the support and encouragement <3

there’s no taglist yet, but let me know if youw ant to be added to the SoC-taglist!

MASTERLIST

[kpop-zone]

Red Velvet reaction to another idol flirting with their crush

Irene

“You know that you’re going to go viral with that resting bitch face of yours, right?”

Sooyoung’s voice ripped Joohyun from her train of thoughts and she looked at the younger member in confusion.

“What?”

She asked, having been too deep in thought to fully understand what Sooyoung had been saying.

“I said that you should pull yourself together and stop stabbing Jisoo with your gaze. We’re in public after all. Someone might take a picture and figure out that you have a crush on Y/N.”

Sooyoung replied and Joohyun gasped loudly.

“That’s not true! None of the things that you’ve just said.”

She shot back, praying that she wouldn’t start blushing to reveal that she was lying. But of course, her body betrayed her. Right after she had closed her mouth, Joohyun could feel how her face suddenly felt incredibly hot, causing Sooyoung to smirk smugly.

“Sure...At least try to make it less obvious.”

The younger member chuckled in amusement before walking away to greet another idol that was only vaguely familiar to Joohyun. Under other circumstances, Joohyun probably wouldn’t have just put up with the mockery of Sooyoung, but today she didn’t feel like starting a discussion with her. Instead, her gaze automatically steered back to Jisoo and you, sitting just a few tables further to the right and looking like you had the time of your lives together. Inwardly, Joohyun cursed the organizer of this award show for putting Blackpink at one table with your group while at the same time also feeling embarrassed for being this jealous. It was ridiculous. The two of you had never even really talked with each other due to Joohyun’s incapability to start conversations with people that she didn’t know. Still, no matter how hard Joohyun tried to be rational, she couldn’t silence her jealous nature. Her eyes automatically wandered back to you and Jisoo over and over again, making her wish that she were brave enough to walk up to you to intervene. But she knew that she would never be. All that she could do was to wait and hope that someday, some organizer would have mercy with her and put her on the same table with you.

Seulgi

“I don’t know how you can stay so calm.”

Yeri looked at Seulgi with an impressed expression, causing Seulgi to tilt her head to the side in confusion.

“Why shouldn’t I be calm?”

She asked and Yeri sighed as if she were disappointed in the older member.

“You are so oblivious, Seulgi, it’s incredible. Taeyang is very obviously flirting with Y/N.”

The maknae replied while pointing at you, standing a few feet down the hallway. Only now Seulgi realized that Taeyang was indeed standing unnecessarily close to you and seemed to be very keen to be on his best behavior. Subconsciously, Seulgi started to observe the two of you for a while and she felt her heart getting heavy when she saw you laughing at something that Taeyang had said.

“I think you should do something.”

Yeri’s voice suddenly appeared very close to Seulgi’s ear, causing her to whip her head to the side in surprise. The maknae’s face was only inches apart from Seulgi’s and her eyes were glistening mischievously. Feeling like she had been caught red-handed, Seulgi quickly looked away to hide the faint blush on her cheeks and cleared her throat.

“Do something? What are you talking about? Y/N can talk with whoever. I have no right to interfere.”

She tried to sound like she meant what she was saying, but to her dismay, Seulgi couldn’t hide that she was bothered by Taeyang’s behavior. Involuntarily, her gaze wandered back to the two of you and she wished that Yeri would have left her in the belief that you were just talking with an old friend.

“Well I’m not saying that you should challenge Taeyang to a duel. Just walk over there and say hi. Make your presence known and leave a lasting impression.”

Yeri winked, causing Seulgi to helplessly look back and forth between you and the personification of the devil on her shoulder next to her. Wouldn’t it be rude if she disturbed you? But on the other hand, saying hi couldn’t harm anybody, right? Still conflicted, Seulgi started to make her way over to you while practicing what to say in her head. When she was only a few steps in front of you though, she still hadn’t been able to from a single coherent sentence that didn’t make her seem like a pathetic stalker and a mixture of nervousness and embarrassment suddenly washed over her. How was she supposed to leave a lasting impression when Taeyang looked like that? This whole plan suddenly felt like a suicide mission, making Seulgi come to an abrupt halt. She had to get away before she would only make a fool of herself. To her dismay, however, she caught your attention right when she wanted to turn around, causing her eyes to widen. You looked at her expectantly, obviously waiting for her to reveal the reason for the disturbance. But Seulgi’s braincells seemed to have already signed off for the day and refused to provide her with a suiting explanation. Embarrassed, Seulgi opened and closed her mouth soundlessly until she couldn’t bear the humiliation anymore and simply waved at you.

“Hi.”

She muttered breathlessly before making a hard turn to the right to run away. In the corner of her eye, Seulgi could see how Yeri facepalmed herself and she felt her cheeks starting to glow. To be fair, she did make a lasting impression. Maybe not the one that she had planned though.

Wendy

“I’m going to go say hi to Y/N.”

Seungwan stated nonchalantly as she stood up, trying to be as unsuspicious as possible.

“Is someone jealous?”

Joohyun giggled before Seungwan had the chance to walk away, causing her cheeks to heat up involuntarily. Apparently her plan to be unsuspicious hadn’t worked that well...

“I’m not jealous...I just want to say hi.”

She mumbled, managing to make her members laugh who were able to detect her bad lie in an instant. Bashfully, Seungwan avoided the mocking looks of her members and quickly fled the scene before they would have the chance to tease her more. Of course, she was jealous. But she couldn’t say that out loud, because then she would have to admit that she for one, had a crush on you and for another, was immature enough to be jealous. And she wasn’t ready to admit either of those things. Therefore, she told herself that she just wanted to say hi to you because she liked you very much...as a friend. Still feeling the watchful gazes of her members, Seungwan quickly made her way over to you, trying not to think about all the mockery that she had to go through later. When she had almost reached your table, you finally looked up from your lively conversation with the idol next to you and met her eyes.

“Wendy!”

Your face lit up as soon as you recognized her, and Seungwan’s heart forgot to beat for a second. It wasn’t fair for someone to have such a mesmerizing smile. How was she supposed to make this seem like a casual conversation if every single cell in her body told her to shower you with compliments? Nevertheless, Seungwan wanted to try her best not to let the effect that you had on her show.

“Oh hey, Y/N. I haven’t even seen you there.”

Seungwan replied, hoping that she had managed to lie better this time.

“Yeah I fade a bit into the background tonight. I have the honor to sit next to Jinah today.”

You snickered jokingly, not knowing that your statement had sparked Seungwan’s jealousy even more.

“If that’s not a reason to be jealous...”

She smiled forced, causing Jinah and you to laugh, oblivious to the hidden meaning of her statement.

“Do you want to sit with us for a while?”

You asked while pointing at the vacant chair next to you and Seungwan helplessly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. On the one hand, she didn’t want to watch Jinah flirting with you all night. But on the other hand, she also knew that it was pathetic to be jealous. If Jinah wanted to flirt with you, she could. And you were even allowed to flirt back. Therefore, Seungwan quickly shook her head and declined your offer gratefully.

“I would love to, but I have to go back to the others. But maybe we could meet up for a coffee sometime soon?”

She smiled, hoping that her nervousness didn’t show.

“Yeah that would be great! I’ll text you.”

You replied without hesitation, causing Seungwan to grin. Maybe Jinah had the upper hand tonight but she would not go down without a fight.

Joy

Sooyoung couldn’t believe her eyes. The way that Donghun leaned into you was simply outrageous. She had never made a secret out of her interest for you, so how dare he flirt with you. For a while, she observed the two of you from the corner of her eye with her arms crossed and jaw clenched but when Donghun looked a little too confident in his victory, Sooyoung decided to remind him that this was a competition. Abruptly she leaped to her feet and walked over to you, making sure to sway her hips confidently while keeping her gaze fixed on you. It didn’t take long till she had caught Donghun’s and your attention and she smirked to herself.

“Hey, Y/N. Donghun...”

While Sooyoung greeted you with a soft smile, she only gifted Donghun with a cold nod, causing him to look at her in confusion. You, however, didn’t seem to notice the tension between your suitors and reciprocated her smile happily.

“Hey! How are you liking the night so far?”

You asked, trying to start a conversation and Sooyoung gladly took the offer.

“Well there were some complications. But I think everything is taken care of right now.”

She shortly threw a piercing gaze at Donghun who finally seemed to have gotten the hint before devoting all her attention to you. The two of you started to chat like you had known each other all your lives and Sooyoung used this chance to get closer to you while managing to drive Donghun further away. He tried several times to get a foothold in your conversation, but Sooyoung made sure to block all his attempts. She didn’t have a problem with others talking with you, but Donghun had simply taken it too far tonight. She just had to make sure that you still knew that she was interested in you. If you ended up choosing Donghun or any of your other admirers over her, she would accept the defeat. But as long as the fight for your heart wasn’t yet decided, she wouldn’t let her competitors score a hit.

Yeri

“That’s a little close isn’t it?”

Yeri huffed, causing her members to look at her in confusion. When she realized that they couldn’t follow her drift, she nodded her head towards you and Arin.

“She’s so clingy, it must be annoying.”

Yeri rolled her eyes and the other members looked at each other before starting to giggle.

“I don’t think Y/N looks annoyed. Quite the opposite actually.”

Sooyoung smirked and Yeri gasped appalled.

“That’s not true! Y/N is obviously uncomfortable.”

She didn’t know whether she was trying to convince Sooyoung or herself, but when she looked back at you, she felt a pout forming on her lips. You really looked like you were actually enjoying Arin’s attention. Involuntarily, Yeri sighed in frustration while mentally imagining how she walked up to you to wordlessly grab your wrist and pull you away. A small part of herself told her that she should just do it, but most of her brain told her that it would be a horrible idea. It would cause way too much drama and she wasn’t even really sure if you liked her back.

Therefore, she just kept staring at you with a grumpy expression while wondering whether she had a chance against Arin. She was just in the middle of compiling an imaginary pros and cons list when you suddenly looked into her direction and the two of you locked eyes. Startled, Yeri gasped before hastily looking away, but she knew that it was too late. You had definitely noticed that she had been staring at you. For a moment, Yeri weighted her options (1. hiding under the table 2. running away or 3. talking with you), concluding at last that she had to make sure that you knew that she didn’t hate you. Crimson-faced, she made her way over to you while cursing herself for being so embarrassing.

“Hi...”

Yeri awkwardly greeted Arin and you once she was standing in front of you, wishing that she could just evaporate into thin air. Opposing to her expectations, however, you greeted her back friendly and even seemed to be glad that she had finally managed to approach you. Taken by surprise, Yeri simply stared at you for a while before deciding that she had to stop making a fool of herself and to start impressing you instead. What Arin could do, she could do better.

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

So Wrong

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Reader, Jane Bodecker, assorted OCs, also gonna go ahead and say Lee is kinda soft/dark in this one

Word Count: 8000

Warnings: Infidelity, alcohol usage, smoking, somewhat dub-con sexual stuff, but not really

Summary: The Reader is a young single mother and widow new to the town of Meade. She gets drawn into a social circle that includes the Sheriff’s wife, while also being drawn to the Sheriff himself.

A/n: I truly don’t know where this came from or why I wrote it. I watched TDATT and suddenly this whole thing just popped into my head complete with a Patsy Cline soundtrack. There’s infidelity on Lee’s part, and his wife is terrible, and these are fictional characters so I am trying to not feel guilty for making that happen. 

There’s more to this story, probably extending into 1 or 2 more parts. I don’t know what to say for myself, I cannot pwp. Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome. Not beta-read, so please let me know if there’s an error. 

Hope you enjoy!

Meade is as good a place as any to settle. Surrounded by wilderness and small towns, it’s quiet, far from anyplace and anyone you know. A welcome adventure and a place to dispose of your grief, finally - hopefully. 

You pull up on a quiet street and sit there just a moment to breathe, to look at the life you had that is settled in between the few boxes and suitcases of belongings, the folded up flag, and the little boy you buckled into the seat.

Through a tangled web of connections, you are able to rent a little upper duplex apartment from the widow in town. She claims she doesn’t mind a little noise as your son stomps up the stairs and gives you an open invitation to join her at church on Sundays.

It is six days into your new residence, the first Monday in town when the apparent welcoming committee shows up at your door. She wears a gentle smile on her face and presents you with a warm pie still wrapped in cloth.

“My name is Jane Bodecker, my husband’s the Sheriff. I wanted to introduce myself…”

You know the routine after moving around a few times already. You imagine the conspiring during the luncheon after church yesterday, the ladies munching on dry cookies and deciding who would be the first to talk to you.

You nod and smile, and accept the offering. 

“Some of us like to get together to play cards and socialize on Tuesdays, it would be nice to have you join us and let us get to know you.”

Of course she means that they are chomping at the bit to know why a single woman with no family ties has moved into town. You’re familiar with the ritual and know you need to go along if you want to make it work in this place.

You return her smile, “That would be so kind of you, as long as you don’t mind my son coming along.” You gesture to the little boy hiding in your skirts behind you.

“Of course he can. He can play with my boy, Robert. We will see you at two.” She leaves you with her address and directions over, telling you to look for the house with the red shutters.

Their house is in one of the newer, more developed parts, with some manufactured homes lining the street and looking boxy compared to the traditional farmhouses, but it's charming. The red shutters stand out, that’s for certain. It doesn’t take long to figure out that Jane is a proud host, head of the gossip chain, and is required to mention “My husband, the Sheriff” at least once per conversation.

You let the ladies ask their questions and nod politely as they give you the required chorus of condolences. You feel the shift when Jane steers the conversation to what they all want to know. “Now, I don’t mean to spread gossip, but some folks were wondering why you rented a place here instead of goin’ home to your family.”

Your shoulders stiffen, ‘so much for not putting me on the spot’ you think, but you still smile politely as you answer. “I have no other family. My daddy was gone when I was a girl and my momma dropped me off with an aunt and uncle when she was with husband number three and I don’t know where she is. They said it was the first thing she did that made a lick of sense,” you try to joke. “Well, they didn’t exactly approve of me and Jimmy, so when we married they told me not to go back.”

“And the boy’s other kin?”

“Ain’t no other kin. Jimmy’s family was small, they’re gone now.”

“Well, ain’t you a tragedy,” she says in a chirpy, high voice. 

Your face tightens and you stare at your lap, “We get by,” you weakly mutter. 

They all assure you that they have some nice gentlemen they can introduce to you, and go on about how fortunate you are they are pulling you into their group. You hear about faceless people and their minor transgressions, but get bored with it fairly quickly and use the time to look over the Bodecker home. It’s nice, a mixture of modest and a few state-of -the-art updates. There’s more dust than you expect, the sofa cushions look worn down, with only a few photos on display. The sheriff’s face shrouded in shadows in the one you can see, but you figure their son must take after him since he doesn’t have the pinched look his mother seems to naturally have.

You don’t even meet ‘her husband, the Sheriff’ until your third Tuesday afternoon of cards at their home. Jane herself is practically giving a campaign speech since the election so close. You never paid a lot of attention to local politics, and you try to give her your attention, but when she starts to ramble on it’s just too much. You happen to look to the side to avoid rolling your eyes and catch just when he strolls in, as if on cue with the uniform all perfectly in place. He scans the group of women until he stops on you, eyes lighting up with interest.

Your own breath catches in your throat at the sight of him as he removes his hat and looks you over.

“Well,” he drawls, “You must be the sweet new thing that’s got all the fellas in town rioting.”

You have to look down, lest the embarrassment make you combust.

“Now, Lee,” Jane scolds, “That’s no way to say hello. Come over here and introduce yourself properly.” She guides him over, and you almost say it with her when she recites, “This is my husband, the Sheriff.”

“Apologies, miss. I know you aren’t trying to get them all riled. Janey told me ‘bout your husband. War is Hell, shame to be losing boys like that.”

He holds his hand out to shake yours, his hold firm and warm and you are hesitant to let go.

“I appreciate that, thank you, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he nods, eyes flicking over you one more time. “What are your plans in this lovely town of ours?” 

“Oh. Well,” you freeze up for a moment, it’s the first time someone’s asked and you don’t have your answer prepared. “Well, I was thinking that I would get a job. We get by right now, but once my boy is in school, I would like something else to do.”

Jane jumps on your answer, “Let’s just see if we can’t find you a bachelor around here. Plenty of boys can use someone to take care of ‘em, but if you want a man who will be home on time, you stay away from any of the deputies. I can’t remember the last time Lee wasn’t busy with something or other from the county. I suppose that’s the life we’ve chosen though, isn’t it?”

Her voice sounds overly sweet, but you can sense the daggers in her words. It’s the way he reacts, shifting on his feet and rolling his jaw like he’s annoyed. Jane doesn’t even pay attention to anything but the cards in her hand. Some of the other ladies nod, but the sheriff just lowers his head before he pulls Jane to the side to talk to her quietly.

You track his movements, fascinated until you shake yourself out of it. It’s been years since you felt like that or even saw a man that caught your attention - not since Jimmy. It’s alarming, unnerving.

The wave of guilt that washes over you is more than you can handle. 

“Please excuse me, but we must be going.” You get up without waiting for any response and practically yank your son right out of the house as Jane calls after you that she will see you again soon.

You brush off the incident after having some time to think, convinced that it is just because you were caught off guard, and try to go on as normally as you can.

Your days end up filled with social calls, running errands or helping your landlady, and keeping your son busy. He asks to play with the Bodecker boy nearly every day, but you try your best to keep your distance when you can, especially when she starts trying to arrange dates for you even when you politely decline.

You look at the other ladies sometimes and wonder how many of them are just tolerating her the way you do. There’s just something grating about the way her voice goes especially nasally when she has something not-very-Christian to say, or the way she talks so openly and obscenely about the apparent whorehouse in town. She doesn’t even seem the least bit shameful when she begins to complain about her sister-in-law and the trouble she gets up to despite her brother being the sheriff.

Sheriff Bodecker, on the other hand, is a bit more friendly than you anticipated, expecting him to be cold or rude, but usually he’s the one pushing his wife to extend a coffee or supper invitation your way and making small talk when you are still around when he gets home from work or if he catches you around town. Your own mind suspects that it’s maybe just a sense of civic duty to know his neighbors, but it’s nice to have company nonetheless. 

Conversation with him comes easily. He talks with you about interesting news stories, about the boys, about some of the other towns, and even plans for the county. It’s interesting, not just debate on whether the new curtains chosen by someone or other are tacky. There are times you get lost talking with him and need to be corralled back in by Jane or Steven getting antsy.

The way he draws your eye is a mixture of curiosity and interest. It makes you notice when he’s driving the patrol car or when you see him around town. You catch how tired he seems at the end of the days, how he’s usually got a piece of candy to slip to kids when they come by and are brave enough to ask. You notice how he knows everyone in town and seems to have an eye on everything, checking in at the shops and breaking up the young men when they start to roughhouse.

In a place like this, Jane Bodecker is far from the only gossiper in town, so while she might not share much about herself or her husband, plenty of others do. Some of the things they say are just nitpicking and you try to drown it out. They’ve been decent to you since your arrival, but it’s hard to ignore the constant whispers of how power went right to their heads.

When the election is over and she gets the right to continue to say “My husband, the Sheriff” you start to really see what they say. She loses the facade of playing the good wife, but still hosts her weekly card meetings to keep up to date. Instead of just coffee and tea, she starts slipping sips of whiskey and gives her opinion a bit more freely than before, and often hurling insults anywhere they can land.

It’s painful to watch her put down everyone, but especially the sheriff when he gets in her way. When you catch him sending a frustrated look at her turned back or rolling his eyes at her complaints about the town and its people, you pretend not to notice and remember to keep a smile on. Her outbursts get more and more unhinged and brazen, and the defeat and exhaustion in his stance makes you ache. There’s a hurt you can’t vocalize without overstepping, but it eats at you, chips at your patience bit by bit.

When the sheriff pulls the cruiser over one day while you’re walking between stores to say hi and make some small talk, you’re pleased. He seems less worn down, it’s nice to see.

“Oh, Sheriff, you’ve got some good timing,” you reach into one of your shopping bags, pulling out a paper bag of hard candies you bought from the candy shop. “While doing the washing, I found a handful of wrappers. Turns out the boys were getting into your candy stash. Thought you might need a refill.”

You hand him the bag and the smile he gives you in return makes your chest tighten up and ache.

“Sweet things from a sweet thing, thank you darlin’.” 

You bit down on your lips, desperate to not react to his flirtatious words. “It’s nothin’, Sheriff.”

“Not to me.”

You start to sway from foot to foot, looking down at the sidewalk with a hum and trying to come up with something else to say. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before his radio crackles with a call from the station. You take the opportunity to make your exit.

“I’ll be seeing you, Sheriff.”

He shoots a glare at the radio, but looks back at you with what you could only describe as longing. “Sure will, Sweets.” Usually something like that would sound condescending, but from him it sounds endearing. He winks and pulls the car away, talking to the dispatcher while he drives.

‘Sweets...sweet thing...darlin’’ his voice repeats over and over in your head, fingers trembling and clumsy with the rush they give you and the way your heart races.

You get nearly sick when you recognize the feelings you’re having. It’s like it was when you were first with Jimmy. When you couldn’t even look him in the eyes because you felt too overwhelmed by your feelings for him. When you flushed and overheated when he got close and said pretty things. When you used to hold onto his hand and promise yourself that you would care for him every day and prove your love to him.

That’s when you realize you’re coveting another woman’s husband.

It’s Thursday, which means you need to head down to Main Street to visit the pharmacy for your landlady, Mrs. Martins, and gather some groceries for the week. You had made plans with Jane to let the boys play together while you took ran errands. You don’t have a good excuse to change the plan, but you can’t help but ask again, “You sure you don’t mind him being here?”

“Not at all,” she smiles, a bit wider and more manic than usual, “Now if that handsome Wilford boy happens to ask you for supper, don’t you worry about rushin’ back, ya hear?”

You laugh at her latest unsubtle attempt, “I will keep it in mind, thanks.” She and a few others had started to meddle, putting eligible bachelors in your path and setting up dates on your behalf. You do try. You talk to them, let them flirt, but none hold your interest. They’re boys - lanky and lean, still all reckless and rowdy. Not what you’re looking for, nothing like the solid, filled-out figure of a man, someone secure and stable and in a uniform. But that’s something to think about another day.

Wilford does indeed ask. 

You do not feel so inclined to take up the offer, especially when he pinches the round of your ass as he asks you to consider dessert before any supper. 

He has you pressed against the wall outside the hardware store, letting the sun blind you and bring tears to your eyes as the bricks snag the delicate threads of your dress.

He only backs away when a loud voice booms out, “There a problem here, son?”

He turns his head to find Lee pulled to the side of the road, window down and arm resting on the frame, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

“No sir, Sheriff, just makin’ some supper plans, ain’t we?” Wilford looks back at you with a leer. Your hands press flat against the building and your knee twitches with the urge to jerk up and hurt him.

“I thought we were expecting you tonight, isn’t that right?” Lee asks you pointedly. 

Your attacker looks back at Lee, then to you, and you nod. Finally, you’re given some space. 

“I imagine you need to be moving along then?” Lee checks, waiting impatiently for Wilford to answer.

“Yessir.” He gives you a wicked grin and spins away to go back down the street. “Maybe another time when you’re free.”

You shake your head, eyes narrowed at his back as you glare.

Lee taps the side of the cruiser, “C’mere.”

You take a shaky breath and gather yourself with a nod before taking the few steps across the sidewalk. Leaning down you take a moment to look him over in his uniform, the badge gleaming in the sunshine and eyes clear blue as the sky.

“You alright, Sweets?” he asks, voice low and gentle. He’d taken to calling you that since the candy incident, always in that same tone - like it’s precious and important. The way it hits you right in the center of your chest hurts more than the physical damage done a moment ago. You know he isn’t asking if your heart is aching, or if you’re alright being lonely, or any of the ways you’re feeling it right now, but it strikes you in an unexpected way.

“I’m fine,” you smile tightly, “Thank you for checking.”

“These boys just don’t know how to handle themselves when they see a pretty lady.” Your cheeks ache as you try to keep from beaming at the off-hand comment. “Ya know, I’m getting ready to head on home, you need a ride that way? I’m guessing your boy is stirrin’ up some shit with mine?” He turns and scans the road and sidewalk around you, fidgeting a bit as he asks.

“I still have to make another stop and my car is at the end of the block, but thank you.” You stand up.

“Well, I mean it, you and Steven stay for supper tonight, I’ll square it with Jane.”

“You don’t hav’ta do that-”

“No worries, darlin’.” He winks, taps his fingers on the shell of the door by the painted logo and waits until you nod in agreement. “See you soon, then.” And with a nod he pulls off the curb.

You watch the cruiser drive away, then look up and down the street, but no one else is there. You finally manage to draw in a full breath, and rush to get to the cool air of the pharmacy to ease the flush burning you from the inside out.

You make it back to the Bodecker’s before the sheriff, glad to have a few moments to smooth things over with Jane since she clearly had not expected you to turn down the date she arranged for you.

“He wasn’t too much of a handful, was he? I told him before I left that he better mind you today.”

She waves you off, sitting back down at the table with her abandoned cigarette in the tray and a small glass of brown liquor.

“Well, the boys’ll sleep tonight, that’s for sure. They’ve been running circles round the whole damn house.” She ashes the cigarette before taking another puff and settling against the backrest of the chair.

You take a moment to look over the kitchen, a pot is just about to boil over so you make your way to it. “Can I help you out with anything? Give you a moment to freshen up ‘fore Lee gets home?” 

“I suppose that’s the least you can do.” Her cheeks draw in another puff and she hums, taking her glass with her as she goes to their bedroom.

The boys run inside, breathless and sweaty, both shouting while they tell you about a nest they found outside before you order them off to get washed up themselves. You look down the hall, waiting to see if Jane was on her way back or if she was expecting you to finish her cooking. Rather than let it burn, you do just that, taking care of the potatoes, adding a few seasonings as you go, and pulling out the meatloaf from the oven. 

The screen door squeaks and boots thud through the house when Lee enters and makes his way to the kitchen. You nervously look over your shoulder, catching him leaning against the door jamb, spinning his hat in his hand, a soft smile on his lips as he looks your way.

“This is a sight. If I didn’t know better I’d think I wandered into the wrong house.” 

You let out a bit of a nervous laugh, then look back down to the greens you were tending to, “I am so sorry, I kept your wife busy longer than I should’ve. She’ll be out in just a minute.” You go back to busying yourself with finishing up the meal.

“Not complainin’,” he mutters under his breath, but you still hear it and it makes your breath hitch. Jane could set you on edge with her snide remarks, so could Lee, but for completely different reasons - some that had been dormant for so long you didn’t know what to do. 

Just then Jane makes her grand reappearance, hair freshly combed and lips tinged with a touch of color; her cheeks look ruddy, but you can’t tell if it’s rouge or flush from the alcohol she’s been sipping.

“Don’t you go adding too much milk to my potatoes, nobody likes ‘em all runny. Here, let me,” she says and nudges you out of the way, “See you gotta mix in just a little bit right there.”

She overpours anyway, her hands moving unsteadily as she mashes the potatoes up, making them runny just like she warned you about. 

From behind you, you see Lee go to the table, picking up the liquor bottle and examining the contents, making marks with his fingers against the side of the bottle and shaking his head. He takes a swig himself and sets it back down.

He mumbles something about being sober, then walks down the hall to where Jane disappeared, stopping to say something to make the boys giggle on the way before they wrestle each other at the bathroom sink to wash up for supper. 

The meal starts off quiet, just the utensils scraping along the plates, but Jane being the gracious host, finally tries to perk it up with conversation.

“I know Wilford might be a little rough ‘round the edges for someone from a bigger town, but there are still several other young men I can introduce you to,” she offers, unprompted.

You choke a little before you recover and finish chewing your bite of food.

“You needn’t go through the trouble, Mrs. Bodecker. Really.” 

“It’s just, you’re so young to be widowed already and all alone. What kinda home will it be for the boy with no man around? And don’t you want more kids? I bet you just glow. Some of the ladies at my bible study wouldn’t mind setting you up.”

The idea makes you squirm. No, you aren’t dead inside, but there’s no way for you to get what - who you really want.

The sheriff speaks up then. “My old man took off on my ma, sister, and me. That’s just the way shit happens sometimes,” he says and you feel the dark cloud start to clear just a bit. You nod at him, acknowledging the little bit of affirmation.

“What was your husband like?” Jane presses, digging a little further into that painful wound. “Maybe that will help me out.”

Your Jimmy didn’t have much to give you, but he gave you all he could. He gave you the kind of love that made your cheeks hurt from smiling, and your stomach swoop with butterflies. Your eyes flick toward Lee and you think again about how alike they seem to you, handsome, intuitive, assertive, strong-willed. He catches your gaze and pauses his chewing for a brief second while he waits for your answer. 

“He was a good man, strong and fair. I’d like to think he and Mr. Bodecker would’ve gotten on quite well,” you finally say, smiling kindly at them both in turn.

Lee’s lips curl into a smile while he finishes chewing, then sits back with a stretch. “You’re makin’ me sound like an old man,” he whines, “Call me Lee when I’m not on duty.”

“Yes sir,” you automatically reply. “Lee.”

His smile grows. “Say, Janey? Why don’t you go get that jug of wine up for us?”

She nods and gets up.

“Wine?” you ask, surprised.

“It’s nothin’ special, someone up the road makes it. Tastes better than that church wine, but don’t burn like the shine some other folks are brewin’ up.”

Jane comes back with three glasses and pours generously for you all, her own motions increasingly sloppy from her afternoon drinking.

You sip at it, the taste a little tart, but not as acidic and thank them for their generosity.

“Jane, you do something different with the seasoning tonight?”

“No,” she answers, then goes right back to her chat with you, you think about speaking up, but she goes back to leading the conversation. “So, you still thinking about becoming a working gal?”

“Not right away, but yes.”

“Oh?” Lee asks, “Something at the diner? I think the grocery is hiring?”

“Nuh uh,” her voice takes on a nasty tone, “Nothing like that for her. She went to secretary school.” The lilt in her voice makes it clear that she doesn’t care for that little fact. “Can you believe that? School just to learn to file a paper or take a message.”

“There’s more to it than that,” you quietly defend.

“Jane, what the hell do you know? You haven’t worked a day in your life?” Lee asks.

Jane rolls her eyes, body slumping a bit in her chair. “Well, whatever you do, just make sure you don’t go working at the Tecumsah.” She snorts into her glass as she takes a sip. “That’s where Lee’s sister works. I told you ‘bout her before.” She gives you a look. “That place is a den of sin, if you know what I am gettin’ at.”

“You’re are gonna spoil my appetite talkin’ like that,” he says. He drops his fork and you startle, his glare at his wife making clear this is another sore subject. 

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” she mutters. “I’m gettin’ tired of mending the buttons on your clothes.”

Your jaw nearly drops. You wring your napkin on your lap and scramble for something to change the subject and break the tension, “Jane, there are such lovely flowers planted right by the library, is there a gardening club around here that you haven’t told me about?”

She’s bored by the topic, but it does enough to distract her and send her on a tangent. You nod and hum while you pick at your food. Occasionally you glance to Lee at the side and find him looking at you appreciatively.

You keep turning the conversation away from yourself, getting her to talk about anything you can as she keeps refilling and sipping down more of her wine. 

You use the next lull in conversation to make your exit.

“This has been lovely, and I am so thankful for everything today, but we really oughtta get back home. I need to make sure Mrs. Martins gets her items from the pharmacist and I need to try to fix the old projector she’s given me.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Lee asks, leaning forward.

“No idea,” you laugh. “I was hoping to puzzle it together.”

“I can take a look for you,” he offers.

“If you have a moment,” you turn to Jane, “And you don’t mind sparing him.”

She scoffs and waves her fingers, “Nah, take Robert with you.”

He grunts in response while the kids leap up, excited for more time together. You do what you can to clean up and ease the load for Jane, but she’s getting more irritable by the minute, so you shuffle to the door to leave.

You head to the driveway where your car’s parked, waiting for him outside while the boys chase each other around the cars. He steps out the door, swinging his key ring on his fingers, looking at ease without the uniform on, but still strutting with an air of authority. It makes your stomach swoop.

“The Martins place? What road is that on again?” he asks jarring you out of your staring.

“Just follow me, Sheriff. I mean - Lee,” You nod as you get into the driver’s seat, Steven climbing in on the other side.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He mutters it loud enough that you hear him. The tilted, teasing grin on his face as he climbs into his own car almost makes you certain it was his intention.

When you get out, there’s a lump in your throat and the air suddenly feels heavy. Thankfully, the short walk up your drive is quiet, the sheriff walking leisurely next to you and laughing at the boys as they race each other down the sidewalk. 

“I gotta go in the back way,” you swallow thickly as you tell him while you open up the gate, “There’s a private staircase for us there.”

He nods and follows. 

When you enter the small apartment, you’re grateful that you don’t have much to fuss over and that it is tidy by default.

“Why don’t you boys go play with the Lincoln Logs or race cars? Nothing too loud right now,” you suggest and push them off toward the small room Steven occupies. “I got the parts all together right here, but I think something is missing.” You point to the box with the projector parts and reels.

“No problem,” Lee’s voice is quiet in your small space. He takes out the parts and starts to fit things together, checking a few switches here and there after a couple of minutes before patting the top of it with a, “There you go.”

You smile widely, “That’s it? Really?”

“That’s it, Sweets,” he matches your smile.

You suddenly hate the idea of him leaving so quickly, so you look around for something else.

“Coffee?”

He nods. “It’s like you read my mind,” there’s a glint in his eye as he gives you a generous once-over.

You feel a flush and quickly turn away to the kitchen.

Your hands tremble as you fill the kettle with water and scoop grounds into the press.

The boys break into a fit of giggles and before you can call after them, you feel the warm presence of Lee shuffle up behind you. His boots scuff against the floor as he stops, then seconds later his arms cage you in from behind, his palms resting against the edge of the countertop.

His breaths are deep, his nose just tickling along the neckline of your dress and you feel your back stiffen at the rush.

“You’re so lovely Sweets,” he whispers.

Your breath shakes as you suck it in. “S-sheriff,” you swallow thickly, “Lee? What’re you doing?”

“You’re beautiful, y’know.”

You remain still, unable to whisper anything but his name again.

“I see the way you look at me,” he presses a kiss to your skin that’s so gentle and tender but nearly makes your knees buckle. “Like you want somethin’.”

“I’m not - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you weakly deny.

One arm leaves the counter to wrap around your middle, pulling you even closer to him while he steps right up behind you, the whole front of him up against your back. The movement makes you gasp and arch just slightly. You’re unable to catch yourself from rolling your head back to lean against him fully and feeling him grunt.

“You don’t need to make any excuses. You want me, dontcha?” he talks with his lips pressed right against your neck, heavy breaths tickling at your hairline.

God, do you want him. The sudden feeling of a warm, masculine body against you is something you didn’t realize you missed so much. For years it’s just been you and your boy and focusing on the day to day, not thinking about the way a strong arm feels pulled around you with fingers just tickling at your sensitive skin - until suddenly that’s exactly what is happening. And how you’ve missed it, your muscles nearly seize up with tension as you try to fight how good it feels.

It’s like trying to drag yourself from a dream, slow and muted as you try to make sense of everything at once; a sharp clarity punches through hard and fast.

“Your wife,” you reach down to cover his hand with your own, ready to try to pry him off.

“That fucking pig? I don’t love her, I don’t want her. She don’t want me either.”

“Don’t say that. You can’t say that,” you tell him and start to pull away, squirming away but getting nowhere since he doesn’t budge an inch. He allows you to spin around between himself and the countertop. “Lee? What is this? What’re you doing?”

It’s a stupid question. You know what this is. You can remember moments like these with your late husband, but Lee is not your husband. You know his wife. You just spent the evening with her in their home.

He doesn’t answer. Instead his free hand starts to skim up along your side until his thumb catches at the curve at the bottom your breast, then slides up so that he can rub his thumb back and forth over your dress, teasing at your hardened nipple.

It makes you whimper and nearly fold in half with how sensitive you feel.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he coos, his lips parted and eyes tracking the movement of his thumb.

You lift your arms to his shoulders, uncertain yet if you’re planning to push him away or pull him close when you hear the quick footsteps of the boys.

Lee steps back to give you some distance and your hands flutter mid-air as you try to compose yourself.

The boys start to whine over each other-

“Momma. Robert keeps knocking over my building.”

“No, he keeps takin’ the blocks I’m using.”

Some kind of clarity forms and you rush out a solution for them, “Why don’t you get out your TinkerToys and split it all up? Alright? Go back to the other room,” you nudge them away.

Problem solved, they run back to the room, leaving you standing in the kitchen, Lee lingering just feet away and the half-finished coffee press on the counter.

“Jane must be expecting you home by now.”

He grunts and shakes his head ruefully, “She’s probably passed out by now.”

“Oh,” you nod. You search for something, anything to excuse yourself and catch your breath, “I need to go to the bathroom. Excuse me a moment.”

You slip out of the kitchen and into the door just down the hall. Taking a moment to relieve yourself then press a cool rag to your cheeks. You’d nursed the glass of wine Jane had poured, so you knew deep down you weren’t tipsy, you were just overrun by the feelings the sheriff gave you. Once you get your first full breath in minutes, you feel better, calmer and more controlled. You look at yourself in the mirror and decide - you just need to send him on home.

You barely crack open the bathroom door when it’s pushed open wide, Lee wedging in when it’s wide enough and nearly slamming it shut behind him.

“Don’t hide from me, Sweets,” is all he says before he’s got one arm around your middle again, and the other holding the back of your neck while he presses his lips against yours. After gasping in surprise, you instinctively return the kiss - your tongue and lips tentative against his dominating mouth. 

It’s strange - all of it so strange after so long. It’s been years since your last kiss and you feel clumsy, out of practice, but he doesn’t hesitate one bit, doesn’t seem turned off by your uncoordinated motions and hands that can’t keep still over his middle and shoulders.

He takes in a deep breath, pausing for just a second to position himself better, then he’s back on you, and you feel ready for him this time. One hand resting on his chest while the other hooks up around his neck, your fingers stroking through the soft, short hairs at the back of his head. He turns the both of you, pressing you against the vanity sink.

“Lee,” you whimper when he wedges a leg between yours.

“Shh, shh, sshh. I got you.”

His kisses are relentless and make you light-headed, gasping for breaths every time he slightly lets up. His hands push and pull, struggling against your dress and your undergarments until he’s freed one breast and can drop his head to suckle at your hard peak.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, mind painfully aware of the children in the room nearby. You crack open an eye to make sure the door is still closed and try to focus on the sounds the kids are making, but his tongue and lips are too distracting. He pulls as much of your breast into his mouth as he can, greedily swirling his tongue all over the sensitive bud, and pulling away with a loud pop.

You slap at his shoulder while he just looks up at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Feels good, right?” He places his hand to cup your breast, thumb flicking at your nipple. “Let me have you, I’ll make you feel so good, my sweet girl. Please?”

His own eyes close as he ruts up against you, his hard length pressing against your hip and sending a tremor through your body, practically shaking your bones. You don’t move though, your hands stay frozen where you hold onto him, but he continues to lead and coax you along.

One wide hand holds you at the back of your neck, just holding you in place. His mouth moves across your cheeks and at the hinge of your jaw. He whispers quiet promises of satisfaction, telling you how lovely you are and confirming every word with a kiss. His other hand leaves your breast after one final and quick pinch and grabs at the bottom of your dress. The fabric bunching in his fist as he gathers it until he can feel your thigh.

Then he teases you with just the tips of his fingers, sliding right up and over til he meets where your thighs meet. It tickles, makes you shake a little, and then you’re sucking in a hard gasp when he keeps going until he pets and presses over your sex with the pads of his fingertips.

“So wet,” he says on an exhale, pressing right where you feel your excitement leaking. “You want me too. It’s alright.”

To prove his point, he presses harder, flattening his hand until he’s cupping you and making your body jerk between him and the sink. You bend your knees to open your thighs wider with the touch, and he groans and presses hard against you again, the heel of his palm putting pressure to your throbbing clit. You struggle to not hook your leg right over his hip to let him in.

“Lee,” you start to beg, “Please. Oh my god, please.”

It’s so overwhelming you start to sob, the tears already prick at the corners of your eyes. Just being touched, feeling the warmth of him, and the words - it’s all that you remembered being with a man to be and more. His hand keeps a rhythm against you, driving you higher. You hadn’t had a man’s touch in years, but suddenly you need Lee like you need air.

“Please,” you say again. Your body tingles with electricity that has nowhere to go.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, baby. I’m gonna take care of ya. Am I what you need?”

“Yes,” tears start to roll down your cheeks. He pulls back slightly until he can slip his fingers underneath your panties, gliding right through your arousal. You feel two of his fingers slide into you, and you squeeze around them instantly.

“Fuck,” he grunts. Your wetness drips down his fingers into his palm. He presses the heel of it against you again, right against your sensitive clit this time. “Come on my fingers, sweetness.”

He fucks you with his hand, his thick, solid fingers caressing you while he sends jolts of pleasure through you with pressure on your sensitive button. You squirm to get away, but the hand still at the back of your neck tightens and holds you down, making you take it.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “It’s alright.”

And that’s it. You freeze for a moment as the pleasure peaks and then you’re trembling as the shocks of it rush through you in a blaze. You can hear the wetness drowning his fingers as he keeps pumping them into you while you clench over him repeatedly and sob as quietly as you can, which must not be very quiet because he starts to shush you and slow the movement of his hand, gently attempting to calm you down.

“You’re okay, s’alright baby, just breathe, c’mon,” you hear him coach, but all you can focus on is the thumping beat of your heart as it races and trying to catch your breath between sniffles, the tears falling freely down your cheeks.

His hand slides out from your panties to grab you steady at your waist, the hand from your neck moves so he can use his thumb to wipe away your tears. He presses his forehead to yours and tells you to breathe with him.

You blink your eyes open, eyelashes glittering with wetness and you take a minute to focus. Once things are clear, you tilt your head back to look at him. His cheeks are flushed, lips wet and rosy, and his eyes - they nearly glow as he looks you over. It’s something to see - awe, tenderness, pride all in the twitches of his lips as his lips turn up with a smile.

“Sweets, will you touch me?” he asks. For such a big man, his voice is suddenly so small.

“Lee, I can’t-I haven’t…” you struggle to find the words.

“It’s alright, that’s alright,” he assures you, circling your wrist with his fingers still sticky from your arousal, and guiding them to the bulge in his trousers. You flinch, but don’t pull away, your arm tenses, but goes with the motion. He presses your palm against the solid length, pushing down to give him some relief. His hips press against you in return and once he’s sure you aren't going anywhere, he lets go of your wrist, then starts to undo the belt and button in quick movements. He tugs the waistband of his trousers and boxers down together, just to release his cock.

You feel the fabric move under your palm, but keep pressing against him, your hand sliding just slightly out of remembered instinct. When the fabric of his boxers slides away and you’re met with the heat of his cock, you gasp. Your hand wraps around him, fingers circling around his shaft to hold him and pulling a strangled moan from him.

“Shit-fuck,” he hisses. “Won’t be long.” He wraps his hand over yours, pulling your fist up and down over him while he pumps his hips into it. Precome drips down from the slit, easing the glide. 

His eyes close and he presses his temple to yours, his face pulls up in concentration, focusing on the pleasure, “You’re so soft, so sweet,” he rasps, “Want you so bad, want you all to myself.”

You can imagine it, if you’re ready to be totally honest, you have imagined it.

“Kiss me?” you whisper.

His lips meet yours roughly for a long press, then he tilts his head and licks at the seam of your lips, making you open up to him. His hand and yours start to speed up, he keeps guiding you up and down, just the slightest twist at the head with each stroke.

The kiss turns sloppy, more sharing air and pecks than anything as he spirals with the pleasure you’re helping to give him.

“You’re gonna -you’re gonna make me-” with a pained expression, he nudges you away, his hand stroking frantically as he leans over your sink until he starts to come, streaks hitting the porcelain as he chokes down groans. You watch his neck and face go red, trying not to watch, but you can’t help yourself and catch the way his cock twitches with his release, all swollen and red. You don’t think you could possibly blush more, but still fire burns underneath your skin.

When he finishes coming, he reaches for you again, pulling you into another hard kiss. “God, darlin’. Fuck,” he whispers while he attempts to catch his breath. “Fuck. Haven’t been tugged off like that since I was a deputy.” He chuckles, the laugh coming out in hard puffs of air.

You struggle to look at anything in the bathroom, eyes straying back to Lee, to his softening cock, to the come dripping slowly in the sink basin. Just then you hear the boys start to giggle and reality hits you again, making your chest seize up in panic.

“Oh, Lee. No,” you raise a hand to your mouth and quickly rush out the door, piecing your wardrobe back together as you walk back into the kitchen. You hear the water run in the bathroom and murmuring as Lee talks to himself.

Your movement must have distracted the boys because they manage to sound like a stampede heading toward you. You wipe at your nose and eyes as best you can before you turn to see what they want.

Both the boys pause, but it’s your son that speaks up, knowing how you look when you cry. “Momma, you alright?”

Lee exits the bathroom then, shirt tucked back in, belt and trousers back in place - only the flush from the neck up giving anything away. His eyes bore into you with heavy emotion that you are ashamed that you can read so well - concern, sympathy, desire. A mixture that you remind yourself you don’t deserve.

“Yeah, baby. I am. You know I get sad sometimes, I’ll be fine. Are you boys ready to say goodbye for tonight? I think it’s well past your bedtime.”

You grab Steven and fuss with his hair, with his messy shirt, and then turn him around and hold him against you like a tiny human shield. “Say thank you to the sheriff for fixing the projector and for letting Robert play.”

“Thank you, sir,” your son dutifully responds.

Lee can see what you’re doing and he’s not happy with it, his mouth going flat and shoulders heaving as you pressure him into leaving.

He just nods, then nudges at Robert’s shoulder, “Say thank you for indulging us.”

“Thank you,” Robert quietly says.

You send Steven down the hallway to get ready for bed, and then you follow behind as they step toward the door, Robert too tired from a full day of play to put up a fight. Lee opens the door to the back steps, telling Robert to be careful going down. When the boy starts down a few, Lee turns back to you.

Before you can react, he’s giving you another kiss, quick but meaningful. “We’re not done,” he whispers. 

“We are. Go home, Lee.”

He gives you a long look before stomping down the steps. “Til next time, Sweets.”

...

[alpalpym]

Keep me calm chapter 1

A/N: Mentions of violence, hints at anxiety and anger issues. Don’t interact if you’re not 18+

Description: You're a mutant running away from your second family, the X-men. You meet Natasha under not-so-great circumstances, but she'll prove herself to be trustworthy.

(Cross posted on AO3. Check link in bio!)

  You were absolutely furious as you gave the legs of the interrogation table another kick, chuckling as it creaked and heaved under strain. 

Anger wasn't unusual for you, a trait Professor X had despised. But he had never liked you to begin with.

It felt like hours since the guards put her in here, and with nothing to do, you had resorted to wrecking the place. Hopefully, someone would come in and tell you to stop; you were desperate for some interaction at this point. With your constant kicking and trashing, the special cuffs around your wrists had started to chafe the sensitive skin underneath. You bit back a wince as you shouted at the top of your lungs. 

"Can somebody tell me what the hell I'm doing here, for god's sake!" Huffing when you got no reply, you kicked the table again, sending it hurling into the opposite wall. 

"Can you stop breaking our furniture," a feminine voice grumbled. 

You gasped at the approaching woman. A true sight for sore eyes with her lush red curly hair and an incredibly tight tactical suit. How were you supposed to keep a straight face with that?

You were an observant girl, quickly noticing minor cuts and some dried up blood coating the woman's pale skin, but you kept quiet as she suddenly came very close. Her hands came to rest at either side of your chair, effectively caging you in before she spoke in a low tone. 

"You need to behave while I'm in here."

You snorted. As if you'd follow up on that demand after being plucked off the streets and locked away. Although, you couldn't deny that the red-head ordering you around left you feeling all fluttery inside. 

"Your name is (y/n), current resident at the Xavier institute here in New York," she sighed, "you have quite the record on you kid."

"I'm not a kid," you spat.

The woman just quirked her brow before resuming. "You can call me Natash—."

"I know who you are."

"You need to stop interrupting me." 

Another command. Your ears were burning, and your skin felt itchy at the tone of Natasha's voice. You've never been this susceptible to a single person in your life, not your parents, not the people from CPS, and especially not Professor X. You fidgeted with the fabric of your jeans, trying to ground yourself from the haze falling over you. “Probably the lack of food,” you thought.

"You left your parental house at thirteen, only having been taken in by CPS three years later. What happened within that time?" Natasha had an aura around her that seemed to command respect, and all without ever raising her voice. You appreciated that about her.

"I just roamed around," you mumbled, wanting to steer the woman away from the topic.

Natasha nodded, scribbling down in a small notebook before her green eyes pierced straight through you again. "And how did Xavier track you down? 

You clenched your jaw, the memory a painful one as you tried to recall what had happened to you. All you could remember were snippets, like Professor X's hard eyes as he sat across from you at his desk. Then another image of you strapped on a hospital bed as a sharp needle pierced your neck before pain blinded your vision.

"I don't know." 

"You're not giving me enough info here, kid."

You were racking your brain. For something, anything, to give Natasha just so she would back off. But as much as you tried, there were no memories of exactly how Professor X had gotten to you. Just a ton of feelings, the intensity of it all making you feel like you were going to throw up.

You were hot, the room sweltering. You doubled over, hands still cuffed as you fought against the wave of nausea hitting the back of your throat. Banging your still cuffed hands against the tabletop, you let out a low whine.

"Nat—" You couldn't speak. Why was your throat so tight? It was all so hard. You leaned back against your seat, trying to keep your racing heart under control.

The woman quickly got to your side, her hands hovering over yours hesitantly.

"I don't know anything. Please don't make me talk. Please, please," you cried. Pressing your forehead against a warm shoulder, the fabric underneath you dampened with tears making you want to pull away. But Natasha was soft, so soft, as she gently guided you closer against her. Unbothered by your sudden vulnerability. Natasha didn't mind; you were sure of it. 

Loud banging against the door quickly pulled Natasha off you in an instant, and you whined a pathetic whine from the back of your throat in objection.

"What's this Romanoff? We said interrogate, not cuddle!" 

A slightly balding man with crooked eyes and an off-putting smile stood at the threshold. His arms were spread, holding either side of the door frame as he nonchalantly swayed back and forth on his feet.

"Shut it, Coulson."

At least Natasha was sticking up for you. But the sudden intrusion cleared your head enough for you to realize how much you'd slipped with the woman. How vulnerable you'd been. Weak.

You pushed the red-head off of you, surprising her as she looked at you in bewilderment. "I refuse to speak to any more of you. Let me go."

It was perfectly within your right; you knew that much. Not even Shield had the jurisdiction to force you into talking. And you wanted to leave. Right now.

"We can't exactly do that," Coulson said. He stalked further into the room, the authority practically beaming off of him as he planted himself sideways on the edge of the table. "Listen up, kiddo."

"Stop calling me that!" You were growing sick and tired of people looking down at you like some child. You were better than that. 

"I'll call whatever I want. Five children are missing, and you have something to do with it now talk."

"No!" A quick burst of energy, followed by absolute emptiness, coursed through your body before you were suddenly on the other side of the room. Both Coulson and Natasha were looking at you, utterly baffled that you were able to use your powers despite the cuffs. With Natasha trying to reach out for you and Coulsen undoubtedly calling for backup, you were cornered. 

One swift kick was all it took to drive the man backward against the wall. A sickening crunch indicating that you've definitely broken his hand. There was no way back now, no more playing nice. You made a move to turn around, but your still cuffed hands were now held in a firm grip by Natasha. The woman pushed you roughly to the ground and caged you in with her thighs around your hips.

"Don't make me do this (y/n)," Natasha panted against the side of your neck. She was straining to keep you down, and you felt a warmth akin to pride spreading from your chest at the thought.

Natasha's hand came up to grab the curvature of your neck before applying pressure. It didn't take long at all for you to lose consciousness. Maybe it was the stress. Perhaps you just lacked the strength to fight back against the black widow. But you were soon out like a light.

~

You didn't dream, but you woke up in bed with a racing heart and a fuzzy head. Soft sheets pooled at your waist as you sat up. Your hands were still cuffed, but you were wearing different clothes. How long had you been out?

"Goodmorning." 

Natasha was sat in a plastic chair, her back slumped and looking like hell. It was strange to see the woman like that after she'd been so poised earlier, and you wondered how long she'd been in here with you. 

"Where did you take me?"

Natasha sighed. The woman let her head fall into her hands, gripping her hair at the root. "You're safe here (y/n)."

"You really believe I'm going to buy into that crap? You laughed. The nerve of this woman was uncanny. "You choked me, Natasha."

"I didn't mean to. Just trust me, please." Natasha eyed you unsurely before moving her chair closer to the bed, putting a hand just above your knee. "How are your wrists," she nodded to your lap.

You frowned. But as you looked down, you saw that the skin underneath your cuffs was red and raw. Natasha moved to hold your wrists in her hands, but you quickly pulled them out of her reach. There was a heat in your chest, spreading like wildfire, and you banged your hands against the wall beside you in frustration. "Stop touching me," you hissed. 

As Natasha made another move to take your hand, you harshly shoved your cuffed hands against her. Shock flashed through Natasha's pretty green eyes, but it was quickly replaced by their usual blank look. She gripped your upper arm tightly, fingers digging into the soft skin. "You can't lose your temper around me (y/n)," she said viciously, "be good for me."

Natasha firmly pressed you down against the bed by your arm, her grasp on you still tight and painful. You wildly trashed against her, roughly shoving your body against hers as hard as possible. Everything about Natasha irked you right now. Her commandeering voice, the strength with which she was able to hold you down with ease. But most of all, her unnecessary kindness. 

Aside from her slightly unethical method of knocking you out, Natasha had shown she wanted what was best for you. You'd never admit it, but Shield taking you in had scared the living hell out of you, and Natasha had handled you with such gentleness it made your heart ache with anger and confusion. 

Natasha shifted to pin you down against the mattress, her shoulder pressed against the side of your face. 

"You're just using me," you panted against her shoulder. "Why are you doing this? Just let me go!"

Pressing her forehead against your temple, Natasha quietly shushed you, softly stroking your head. "Calm down for me Малы́шка."

Natasha's arms snaked around you, keeping you in a firm hold. And while you continued to struggle against her for a bit, you gradually started feeling the anger seep out of you. You had to admit it felt nice to have the red-head so close to you, the comfortable heaviness of her body against yours made your chest feel a lot lighter. "Witchcraft," you thought humorously.

Natasha let out a hum of content—of approval— and tightened her hold on you the tiniest bit, making your eyes fall closed again.

Translation: Малы́шка = baby girl

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

Love of My Life

It was then Katara’s turn to stare up at the fiery sky, the multitude of clouds glowing in red and orange glory. “Aang,” she murmured, his name falling from her lips like a prayer. “Please.”

After the final battle, Katara and Aang reunite.

(Written for Day 3 of Kataang Week 2021: Missing Scenes/Post-Canon, hosted by @kataang-week. Read here on AO3, or continue reading below.)

Azula was taken away at some point, maybe by the Fire Sages, but her bloodcurdling screams and broken sobs were hardly a pinprick at the back of Katara’s mind as she kept her attention trained to the lightning wound blasted across Zuko’s solar plexus. Her hands glowed with the water she was continuously pulling from the now-burst piping system in the courtyard around them. She had no enhanced spirit water as with Aang, but fortunately Zuko’s injury was less severe and—thanks to her quick defeat of Azula—no longer life-threatening.

Zuko winced, and guilt flashed through Katara’s stomach for silently dismissing his pain. “Sorry.” She moved the water further upward on his chest, over a spot where the skin was more blistered. “Better?”

A low hiss escaped Zuko’s lips as the cool liquid skimmed the wound, and he managed a weak nod. “Thanks.” His voice was raspier than usual. To be expected. “For this, and for… and for stopping Azula.”

The urge to laugh rose in Katara’s throat, which she immediately suppressed because Tui and La, what was wrong with her? How was now an appropriate time for laughter? “Well, you’re welcome,” she said instead, giving him a weary smile, “but next time, how about you don’t taunt her about the lack of lightning, hmm?”

Zuko grimaced, and Katara knew that particular reaction had nothing to do with the wound across his chest. “Let’s just hope there will never be a next time.”

Katara couldn’t argue with that.

The following minutes were quiet as Katara slowly moved the water up, down, and around Zuko’s injury, her hands themselves hovering less than an inch above his chest. While she knew it was only a figment of her imagination, Katara could’ve sworn there was still blue lightning—Azula’s lightning—flickering across the wound, sparking at her fingertips and prickling across her skin.

Maybe, then, it was this lingering remnant of the Avatar’s slayer that had Katara so on edge. Maybe that was the reason why tension still thrummed through her body despite that she and Zuko were safe now, despite that they’d won.

“He’s going to come back.”

Zuko’s words broke the heavy silence, startling Katara so badly her concentration flew out the figurative window. The water around her hands lost its glow and splattered across Zuko’s chest like she’d emptied a full bucket on top of him. Frantic apologies spilled from her lips as she bent the water off his upper body with similar haste, but Zuko—wincing—pushed himself into a sitting position before she could begin the healing process again.

“Zuko, what are you—”

“Aang is going to come back,” he repeated, staring at Katara with an intensity that probably shouldn’t have been possible for someone in his grievously injured state. A testament to her healing skills, truly, and also to Zuko’s general stubbornness.

“I know he will,” Katara said after a pause, bending the water she’d again collected around her hands into the leather waterskin that hung at her hip. “If memory serves, I was the one telling you that on our way here.”

Zuko chuckled. “I know. Sorry. You just seemed like…” His eyes flickered across her face, searching for vulnerability Katara refused to bare. “Like you needed the reminder.”

Katara sighed, not meeting his gaze. “Look. I know Aang will come back. I know he’ll win.” Spirits, maybe he had won already. “I mean, he’s the only one who can. But I guess I’m still—” Katara cut herself off with another sigh, blinking back exhausted tears. “Fine, you’re right. I guess I’m still worried.”

Aang would return victorious, yes, there was no doubt in her mind. But at what cost? What price would he have been forced to pay? Sacrificing his body through the loss of a limb? Sacrificing his soul through the loss of that which his people valued above all else? Katara knew, she knew that if anyone could stop Ozai without killing him, it was Aang. But what she didn’t know was—was how.

Spirits, Katara wouldn’t be able to handle it if Aang returned to her broken in a way she couldn’t heal. She’d already witnessed him die once, watched his body go limp as life left it. She wasn’t ready to watch his spirit disappear, wasn’t ready to watch hope leave his heart, too.

Zuko opened his mouth, presumably to offer more words of comfort to her, but he was interrupted by Appa’s body stiffening—the sky bison was so large it was impossible not to notice the reaction. He’d originally been standing guard, for all intents and purposes, while Katara healed Zuko, but now his eyes were glued to the sky as he released a bellow that shook the stone of the courtyard beneath them.

Katara grabbed Zuko’s arm to keep him from toppling over, but instead of resettling himself, Zuko tried to stand up, as if the giant wound on his chest was nothing more than a mere papercut.

“It’s Aang!” was the only explanation he gave as Katara relented with a huff and helped him to his feet. “It has to be. What else would get Appa acting like this?”

Privately, Katara agreed with him. Hope beat in her heart so rapidly it ached. But since Zuko had wildly, unexpectedly, completely out of the blue transformed into an optimist—seriously, had the lightning gone through his brain?—well, that meant she had to be the one to temper his optimism with a little realism.

“It could be a threat,” she responded honestly, not releasing Zuko’s arm until she was certain he’d gathered his balance.

Zuko shot her a doubtful look. “You sure?” He pointed at Appa, whose tail had started shaking—okay, yes, probably with excitement, Katara would admit that much.

It was then her turn to stare up at the fiery sky, the multitude of clouds glowing in red and orange glory. “Aang,” she murmured, his name falling from her lips like a prayer. “Please.”

Seconds later, those otherworldly clouds split open to reveal a Fire Nation airship, and on the exterior Katara could see flashes of blue and green fabric—Sokka and Toph, it had to be. Spirits knew she probably should have been concerned about who was steering the balloon, but once it was clear the ship was heading steadily towards the ground and wouldn’t face a disastrous crash, Katara’s mind returned to its previous mantra.

Aang. Aang. Aang.

“Remember to breathe, Katara.”

Katara shot Zuko a mild glare at his wry tone, but exhaled, because he was right—she’d been holding her breath. In fact, she was still holding far more tension in her body than could be considered healthy, but Katara knew that overwhelming stiffness wasn’t going to ease until she saw her friends alive and well, until she felt Aang’s heartbeat in sync against her own.

Katara’s breath hitched as the airship came to a stop far from herself and Zuko, hovering above the stone ground of the courtyard. It was much larger up close—no wonder it couldn’t land properly. There was a deep rattle as a metal plank, of sorts, some kind of steel pathway lowered from the ship and scraped across the ground with an earsplitting screech. Onto it stepped—

“They’re alive!” Katara gasped, blinking back elated tears as Sokka, Aang, Toph, and Suki—and Momo atop Suki’s left shoulder—stepped out onto the platform. One of Sokka’s legs was in a splint and he had to lean onto Suki’s side for support as he hobbled along, but— “They’re all alive!”

Aang was alive.

They’d done it. A little bruised, a little broken, maybe all around worse for wear, but—

They’d done it.

“Come on,” Zuko urged, taking an unsteady step forward and immediately wincing. He didn’t let the pain stop him, though, powering another foot ahead. “Let’s meet them halfway.”

Katara rolled her eyes, ducking under Zuko’s arm to brace him against her side, careful to avoid his injury. “Idiot.” Standing on his own was one thing, but walking by himself was an entirely different matter. She could already tell Zuko was the kind of person who made a terrible patient.

But Katara walked with him all the same, slow and steady. As they got closer, she could better see the physical state her friends were in. Toph had only a few scrapes across her arms and face. Same for Suki. Sokka had clearly done a number on his leg, as he was hardly putting any weight on it despite the well-made split, and not to mention that Suki continued to brace him while he walked. Aang was—

“Appa!”

Well, Aang was getting smothered by Appa, Katara noted with silent amusement as the sky bison practically tackled Aang to the ground, nuzzling and licking him with unabashed eagerness.

“Buddy, I’m okay!” Aang managed to wheeze out amidst his laughter, giving Appa a tight hug. “I’m okay, I promise.”

He seemed to be telling the truth, at least based on what Katara could discern from afar. His orange robes were torn to oblivion, with only his Fire Nation pants remaining. She could see minor burns across his chest and one area on the left side of his ribs that looked to her like it would become a painful bruise, but overall—

“If you guys are here with no Azula,” Sokka joked as they all came to a stop, snapping Katara’s attention away from Aang, “does that mean Zuko finally gets to rule the Fire Nation?”

Katara allowed Zuko to keep some of his weight on her even as they stood still. He laughed at her brother’s comment. “Katara’s the one who technically defeated her in the Agni Kai. Maybe that makes her the Fire Lord.”

Katara groaned and rolled her eyes, ignoring the amused snickers of her friends. “Tui and La, no. I refuse. I resign. I—I abdicate. The throne is all yours, Zuko.”

She turned her attention to her brother’s injured leg as Suki began recounting the details of their battle in the air, including how they’d managed to pilfer an airship of their own. Up close, Katara was relieved to see that no bone had broken through the skin in Sokka’s shin or thigh—that would have made it much harder for her to heal. She made sure Zuko was stable on his feet before stepping away to study the injury further. But as she crouched at Sokka’s side and went to bend water out her flask for the preliminary healing process—

“Hey. That can wait.”

Katara blinked, staring up at Sokka in utter confusion. “Excuse me?” His leg was broken, she couldn’t just—

Sokka jerked his head towards Aang, who was busy freeing himself from beneath Appa’s weight. “Go greet the hero of the hour. My leg will still be here when you get back.”

Toph snorted. “Of the hour?” She shook her head. “Give him credit, Sokka—Twinkle Toes is the hero of the century.” Momo chirped before jumping from Suki’s shoulder onto Toph’s, as if agreeing with her.

Katara turned to look at Aang, her mind tuning out the rest of her friend’s teasing banter that followed. He was—Aang was more than the hero of the century, at least to her. More than the Avatar, more than an airbender, more than—

Aang must have felt her eyes on him, because he paused in petting Appa to turn around and give her a shy grin. “Hi, Katara.”

With those two words, the dam burst, and Katara sprinted over to Aang with all the speed of a roaring wave. Her arms crashed around his bare shoulders like water beating against the shore, and Aang wrapped his arms around her waist in return. Katara could only squeeze him tighter, his face pressing into her shoulder.

“You stopped him,” Katara whispered. Her words were shaky, or—spirits, maybe it was her entire body that was quivering. “Ozai. You stopped him.”

Aang nodded into her shoulder, and Katara slackened her grip just enough so he could lean back and reply. “Yep.”

Katara’s right hand instinctively rose to cup his face. She could see it in his eyes—tired, yes, but still so full of hope, the warm gray as rich as the shimmering moon. “You found another way, didn’t you?”

Aang smiled at her, laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes, and spirits if that wasn’t an image Katara wanted traced into her memory for the rest of time. “Ozai is alive. But he can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

Katara had a million questions, the first being the obvious How? How did you do it? But no query fell from her lips despite her overwhelming curiosity. Instead, all she could do was stare at Aang, tears of relief sliding down her cheeks as she smiled and smiled and smiled and—

“I am so proud of you,” Katara said, the words halfway to a sob as she pulled Aang into another crushing hug, marvelling at how perfectly his body fit against hers. “I knew you would do it, Aang, I knew it. Only you could.”

Aang laughed. “Must’ve been your belief that got me through it.” His arms tightened around her, as if he, too, needed the unspoken reassurance that Katara was there, that she was real, that they had won, the same way she needed such comfort from him. “At one point, I’m not even sure I believed I’d succeed.”

“It’s a good thing I never doubted you, then,” Katara whispered, and Aang laughed again.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Katara wasn’t quite sure what Aang was thanking her for—her faith then, her presence now?—and in truth, she had a feeling Aang didn’t precisely know, either. But what did precision matter? They were here, together, alive. Beaten and bruised but not broken beyond all repair. Neither of them had lost what they couldn’t live without.

For Aang, the vestiges of his peaceful people. And for her…

Aang.

Katara hadn’t lost Aang. Not like she had before, not like she couldn’t bear to ever lose him again.

“Alright, lovebirds! That’s enough time spent hugging the life out of each other. Come tend to the wounded, please.”

Katara rolled her eyes at her brother’s obnoxious interruption, but she released Aang after a final tight squeeze. She really did want to take a look at Sokka’s leg. Besides—she and Aang now had all the time in the world. All the time in a peaceful world, at that.

Aang followed her back to the rest of their friends, and Katara had just knelt down to examine Sokka’s injury when Aang burst out into loud, unprovoked laughter. The sudden sound made her jump, and it was only thanks to some quick thinking—and inelegant bending—that she avoided spilling the water from her waterskin all over the stone courtyard for the second time in the past ten minutes.

“What’s so funny?” Zuko asked, the apparent reason for Aang’s laughter. “What did I do?”

“No—you didn’t—” Aang cut himself off with a wheeze, and Katara couldn’t stop herself from glancing behind her to see what on Earth had him in stitches.

Aang pointed at Zuko’s chest, biting down hard on his bottom lip in a clear attempt to withhold further laughter. “That. Azula shot you with lightning, right?” When Zuko nodded, he said, “And Katara healed you?”

“I did,” Katara confirmed. Sokka gave her a disapproving look, probably because she was yet to begin healing his leg, but—well, this time Katara had no real excuse beyond her own intrigue. Whoops. But it wasn’t as if his splint wasn’t holding up perfectly. The expertise with which it was secured suggested Suki had been the one to fashion it, and that meant Sokka would be fine for a quick moment longer.

Aang’s laughter returned in full force, one arm wrapped around his stomach while his free hand gestured wildly behind him. “We—We match!” He turned around, and—

“Oh, for Agni’s sake,” Zuko groaned, and Katara found herself unable to contain her laughter. In a matter of seconds, they were all laughing at Aang’s revelation. Even Zuko, once he’d gotten over himself.

Tui and La. Katara loved her friends, she loved her life, she loved being alive with her friends by her side and—

Aang.

She loved Aang.

Oh, spirits.

[annab-nana]

Twitches & Stitches - Peter Parker

You are a worrywart and along with other problems in your life, Peter being Spider-Man doesn’t really help to keep you calm. One night when he gets hurt, your own body tells him you're stressed before you do.

Warnings: some curse words; blood and wounds

Word Count: 3.2k+

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

“Holy shit, Peter!” you exclaimed when you saw the battered and bruised boy through your window in the middle of the night. If you were not expecting him, the sight would’ve really scared you though seeing him in the state he was in wasn’t exactly calming. “Why are you here?”

He needed a hospital with a real doctor, not you with your Spider-Man band-aids and your little first aid kit. The left side of his abdomen was grazed with some kind of burn and his right thigh took a larger hit, looking similar to his side but much worse. Blood dripped from his nose, his busted lip, and the cut on his upper cheek near his eye. His eyes were clearly red and puffy, one of them starting to form a bruise around the socket. Scrapes, scratches, and small cuts littered his body everywhere else. You knew he was going to be sore and in pain for a little while even given his rapid healing abilities. As you ran to get a towel from the other side of your room, he held his wounded side with one hand and frantically pushed his sweaty curls back with the other.

“You always help clean me up. I thought you liked to do it. I can get May to help if you don’t want to right n-”

“No Pete, I do like that you come to me for help but this…” you trailed off as your finger pointed to the large cut on the side of his face before it faltered down towards his side and leg. “That needs stitches and extensive medical care. I don’t know how to do that. We need to get you to a hospital.”

“Actually, can you take me to the compound? Banner can help me there,” Peter asked when you pulled on your jacket and shoes and looped an arm around his waist to hold him up while he held the towel you got for him to his injured leg.

“Yeah, come on.” So, you got him into your car and began the drive upstate. It wasn’t too long especially since you were going a little over the speed limit—your boyfriend was bleeding so of course most laws were thrown out the window to get him some help—but a hospital would have been much closer. You understood why he wanted to go here: no one questioning how this happened, no coming up with a story to tell, people he was familiar with and comfortable around, so you took him.

“Y/n, calm down. It’ll be fine,” Peter whispered when his suited hand came to rest on your hand that you had been tapping anxiously against the steering wheel. You had not realized you were doing it, but you were scared for Peter. Of course, he was a superhuman with rapid healing abilities and super strength, but he looked awful and your mind began to wander to the worst. What if he did not make it back one night? What if he was kidnapped or tortured? What if he died? What would you do? You wanted to protect him but how could you when you were a measly human, no special abilities, just a big heart.

“I know. I just worry about you is all,” you muttered when you saw the compound come into view, the lush greenery of the tall trees behind it and the starry night sky about it appearing so beautiful.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, sweetheart,” he reminded you before pecking your cheek. “I always come out okay.”

As much as you wanted to protest and explain that he might not always be fine and that his powers didn’t make him completely invincible, you pushed it down and pulled in front of the compound. You turned off the ignition and ran around to his side to help him out and walked him into the building.

“What’d you get into now Peter?” Dr. Bruce Banner inquired when you both walked in, taking in the boy’s limp and bloodied body.

“Some guys with alien tech. It’s different than the Chitauri stuff. It’s much more advanced,” he explained while you two followed Banner to an examination room. You helped him to get up on the bed—though he probably didn’t need your assistance—but it was the thought and the care that you put in that made him feel better.

While they discussed what happened as Bruce stitched him up, you hung back a bit and took in the room. Every room in the compound fascinated you. Each so simple yet so intricate, so sophisticated and sleek. Most of the rooms were white especially the exam rooms of the medical wing. Everything was just so crisp and you loved to look around at it all.

Then your eyes landed on the boy you fell in love with who was smiling up at Bruce Banner who had cracked a joke you did not hear. Peter Parker. Did you know you were signing up to be Spider-Man’s girlfriend when you started dating him? No, but you loved all of him, even the parts that scared you.

It wasn’t that him being Spider-Man scared you. You couldn’t think of anyone better to take this huge responsibility on and take it on as beautifully as he did too. What terrified you were the possibilities that the job could entail. Just tonight he had a run-in with some scumbags with alien technology and this obviously was not the first time this had happened. After what occurred with Liz’s dad, you hoped this would go smoother or maybe he could get more avengers to help him this time. You couldn’t handle another building being dropped on him like it was nothing or even something worse. But now there was more of this unknown tech and it was more advanced? With his stubborn self, he’d go after them as soon as possible and it’d probably end up worse than last time. You just could not handle that. You couldn’t handle losing him.

“So how long has your eye been twitching?” Bruce asked out loud, not directed at anyone in particular but Peter assumed it was for him as did you.

“My eye hasn’t been twitching, sir, unless I can’t feel it,” he told him in a confused tone. Banner chuckled a bit before turning towards you.

“I meant you. You’ve noticed that right?” You did not know whether to nod or shake your head. Had you noticed it? Yes, but were you also too busy to care? Also, yes.

“I mean a little, yeah. I didn’t think it was a big deal though and that it’d go away soon. I’m okay, right?” You asked beginning to get a little frantic, but he was quick to reassure you.

“Yeah, don’t worry too much about it. We don’t need another thing to stress you out,” he commented, and by your tilted head and furrowed brow, he could see you didn’t know what he meant. “Eye twitching commonly correlates to stress and fatigue. Would you say that’s true?”

Peter’s wide and concerned eyes met yours. He didn’t know of anything that would be stressing you and he figured you got enough sleep. You handled everything so well so he had no clue that you could be stressed or tired.

“I mean yeah maybe. I could see it,” you answered the scientist who finished up what he needed to with Peter.

“Okay Parker, you’re all good and as for you,” he stopped and turned to face you, “Just relax and get some rest. Nothing bad will happen but it’s clear you need a break.” You nodded at him when he exited the door and as soon as he left, Peter hopped off the exam bed and walked over to you.

“You never told me anything about being stressed or worn out. Are you okay?” he questioned, his hands cupping your face as his eyes danced between your own.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Now let’s go back before my mom freaks out when she sees I’m gone,” you urged but Peter’s hand gripping your wrist stopped you.

“Text her and tell her you’re staying with me. Let’s go to my room here so you can get as much sleep as you need and then we can spend the whole day here tomorrow just chilling, okay?” he told you while still cradling your face.

“Okay well we need to move my car from out front to the garage,” you reminded him, and he grabbed your keys from your back pocket before you could.

“I’ll do that. You head on up to my room and I’ll meet you there.” So, you did as you were told. You went to Peter’s room, took off your shoes and jacket, and slipped under the blankets, the soft scent of him filling your nose.

Had you really been that stressed and exhausted that your eye was starting to twitch? Yeah, you could not fall asleep until you knew Peter was okay after patrolling, and sometimes you didn’t get that confirmation until midnight or later. Yeah, your mom had to work more so she could provide for you both and she was too tired from working to do anything, so you had to take care of the both of you. Yeah, school was getting a little more intense as the semester progressed and being a sophomore at a school for genius teenagers came with a heftier workload. But you were handling it. You always handled what life had to throw at you and you handled it with ease from the outside looking in.

“Okay, your car has been moved,” he announced when he slipped into his room and placed your keys on the desk that was placed near the door. He pressed the spider emblem in the center of his chest causing the suit to expand and loosen off his body before it fell to the floor. That left him in his boxers which was exactly what he wore to bed, so he slid underneath the covers and opened his arms for you to snuggle next to him. A small smile crept onto your lips as you scooted over and laid your head on his chest before entangling your legs with his own.

“How are you feeling?” you whispered into the space around you, your thumb slowly rubbing over the edge of the bandage that covered his side. You remembered the image of seeing him in your window only a short while ago and your heart dropping at the sight.

“Better now. I’ll be okay,” he stated reassuringly as his hand trailed absentmindedly up and down your back. “We need to talk about you though. What’s got you all stressed? I didn’t even know you were struggling. You’d know I’d help and that you can talk to me, right?”

“Yes, Peter. I know that and even I didn’t know how bad it was until Banner pointed it out,” you muttered, sighing against his skin as you hid your face in the crook of his neck. You didn’t mean for it to get like this. You thought you could handle it. You thought you were handling it fine, but your body was telling you otherwise.

“What is it?” he asked again, his other hand reaching to grab yours. “What’s making you stressed? Talk to me.”

“For starters, school. This sophomore year workload is a lot to handle when I have other things to worry about.”

“Like what?” You had not told him about your mom taking on a second job to make ends meet, about how she worked from eleven at night to seven in the morning at a hotel then slept for a little then worked at the diner she had worked at for years for however long they had scheduled her, about how she barely took care of herself let alone you, how you had to take care of her and yourself. Your mom was your hero. She had taken all of this like a champ, and you felt like shit for letting it all get to you through your damn eye twitches. You didn’t need Peter to worry about you. That would have made things worse, and he has bigger things he needs to worry about anyway. Also, he would have told May and you could not take her big brown empathetic eyes looking at you in pity before she would hug you and you would definitely break down then.

“Y/n? Sweetheart? Are you crying?” Peter whispered as he pulled you from his chest to look at you and indeed, a tear had fallen from your beautiful face onto his shoulder. “Why are you crying, baby? What’s wrong?” He asked when he sat up with you and pulled you back into his arms for him to hold you.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry,” you mumbled against his neck where you had hidden your face once again. You hated crying though you were comfortable doing so in front of Peter.

“Darling, you can always tell me anything. I care about you so much and I thought you were okay because that is what you have told me and shown me. It’s okay to break down. God knows how many times I’ve broken down and cried in front of you,” he stated with a laugh which had caused a watery chuckle to escape you. He leaned down to press his lips to your temple. “Talk to me, baby. Tell me what’s on your mind and maybe you’ll feel better.”

So, you did. You explained how your mom had to get another job, told him how you were worried for her because she was not caring for herself and how you were having to act as the mom of the house since she was trying to financially provide for you both. You unloaded everything you had in your head about the situation with your mom and the stress you had been feeling because of it.

He held you through it all. He had shifted you both back to laying positions as he held you against him with one arm and held your hand with his other. Every word he listened to intently and it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. He was the best thing that had ever happened to you and you loved him with every ounce of your being.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner? You know I’d help you anytime,” he reassured you as if you had forgotten that he would help you. You knew he would be there for you in an instant when you would call, but something else had stopped you.

“Because… you’re Spider-Man. Queens needs you and you have bigger things to deal with like guys with technology from outer space. You should put that first, not my problems that I can handle myself.”

“I am Spider-Man, but I am also Peter Parker, and you matter most to me. So, I can leave the alien tech to someone else now that they’ll actually listen to me when I say there’s a bad guy and I can help you,” he reminded you and you nodded.

“Okay,” was you muttered before a beat of silence passed you both and then Peter spoke up again.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I stress you out?” he questioned and as you were about to decline it, you remembered that he wasn’t just Peter Parker, but also Spider-Man, and that part of him did stress you out a little bit.

“Umm…” you trailed off as you got worked up again, tears swimming in your vision as you let out a shaky breath to calm yourself.

“I do, don’t I?” he inquired once more. The way his voice sounded so defeated made your heart split in two.

“Yes,” you spoke before the tears were flowing again. “But it’s only because I’m worried for your safety. I mean you didn’t see what I saw when you came to my window tonight. Peter, you looked awful, and what if it had been worse? What if you hadn’t been able to get up from the fight and seek help? What if y-you died? I don’t know what I’d do. I stay awake every night waiting for you to either show up at my window or for you to call and tell me you’re safe at home. Peter, I love you, but you being Spider-Man and risking your life constantly, that terrifies me. You handle it well, but I just get worried that one day you won’t come back.”

His eyes softened as you spoke while he was quick to pull you into his embrace and shush you to calm you from your cries. You had to admit that it did feel good letting all this out and telling him the truth finally, but these were the things that were weighing heavy on your heart and to just speak of them to someone helped lift that weight some.

“Baby, you know I will always come back to you. I think you underestimate me,” he chuckled as his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

“I know you’re strong, asshole,” you laughed along with him before getting back to your main point, “but I am scared that you think you’re invincible and you’ll run yourself into something you can’t handle, and then what happens? You get seriously hurt or worse, you die and then I’ll be alone. So will May. Ned will not have his best friend. MJ won’t have someone to bug all the time. What are we supposed to do when we don’t have you, Peter? I-I can’t handle that.”

“Y/n, you can’t keep thinking of the worst-case scenario in this situation. There will always be that possibility, but I am sure that won’t ever happen. I can sense when something bad is going to happen before it does so I know when to get out of the way before something could potentially kill me. I will always be okay in the end and so will you so don’t worry too much about it. You’re stressing yourself out more than you need to,” he whispered calmingly as his thumb rubbed soothing circles into your skin. You sighed before cuddling into the boy. He was right. You did tend to let your mind wander to the worst, and you were stressing yourself out more than you needed to. You had other more important things to worry about like your mother and getting schoolwork done.

“I love you, you know that right?” you spoke softly against the flesh of his chest before pressing a light kiss where your words landed.

“Yes, I do. You wouldn’t worry yourself sick if you didn’t love me. I love you so much sweetheart,” he muttered into your hair. “Now tomorrow, we aren’t going to do anything that counts as work. We’ll sleep in, watch some movies, we can bake some cookies or something if you’d like?”

“That sounds nice,” you told him while nodding your head.

“Then that’s what we will do,” he stated into the space above you, into the darkness of his room. “Good night, y/n.”

“Good night, Peter,” you sighed as you melted into his body, his strong arms very present around you and holding you close and safe next to him. You could feel him. He was right there. He always came back so there was no need to worry. Your sweet little Peter Parker was not going anywhere. You had him right there and that was all you needed to feel calm.

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[bangtanpromptsfics]

pyxis.

dialogue prompt #9: “Cheer up it's Christmas Eve, sweetheart”

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: christmas au, brother's best friend au, fluff, childhood friends to lovers

word count: 3,412 (oh no)

warnings: reader is a lil sad but nothing angsty tho

summary: christmas was always an eager wait. less for the tree decorations, family dinner and the fuss of toddlers. more for your childhood best friend who you kissed under a mistletoe years back.

a/n: ahhh!!! I'm not completely satisfied with how this turned out to be. the inspiration was from a few christmas themed fics I read here and the movie ‘It's Christmas, Eve’. anyway this was my attempt though it's nowhere near christmas time. one of my personal goals is to celebrate a christmas like the west, the snow, the fuss and the commotion ;-;. Also I lost sense of time and space and this turned out to be 3k ;-;

masterlist

“Cheer up it's christmas eve, sweetheart”, your mother chimes as she pours brown batter into little cupcake moulds.

You simply smile at her, the festive mood not really getting to you because of exhaustion. Uni was tough, and enjoying this Christmas when you know you have tons of essays due in a few days was hammering inside your brain every now and then.

“Is that chocolate?”, you ask, leaning your tired body on the counter where she is at work.

“And orange”, she smiles, turning around to preheat the oven.

“Where's Jin”. Though you hated the routinely flicks against your forehead, the absence of your big brother felt weird.

“He went with Jimin to get the Christmas tree”.

The mention of Jimin brings a smile to your face. His soft features and captivating grin filling your head. If there was one of the few things you enjoyed coming back to your hometown for holidays, it's chocolate cupcakes your mom bakes and Jimin.

His family are friends with yours after all. You, Jin and Jimin attended the same school until college and other priorities in life drift you apart. Though the bond must have rusted a bit, you can't deny the fact that you still have that crush which started somewhere in middle school, on a chritmas eve like this when he kissed your cheeks shyly under the mistletoe. Your friends and family, and even Jimin himself must have seen it nothing more than platonic, but you still find yourself relieving the moment in your head however crazy it may sound.

Standing up straight, you decide to fix your bed hair and complete the skincare routine before the said duo drops.

“Mrs. Y/L/n...”, Jimin softly kicks the back door. He is carrying one end of a huge fir, and your brother on the other end, grunting from the freezing snow outside.

“Oh dear place it right there”, you mother is quick to her feet helping the boys and doing her usual commentary on how well the tree looked.

Jimin looks more handsome than ever, especially with his nose and cheeks dusted in scarlet from the cold. He looks really huggable in his fluffy sweaters and red beanie. Jin is busy commanding around so you choose to sit back, a very typical sibling energy and the size of decoration boxes and the tree itself not really appetizing to your will to find any strength.

“Hey Y/n!”, Jimin stares back at your eyes in a split moment which has your lashes fluttering suddenly. You probably look like you are carrying a disease and right now you become very hyper aware of that.

“You alright? You look tired”, he comments. You feel his eyes carefully studying the black under your eyes and worrying his mind because that's what he is like. He cares about everyone and everything, has a heart so soft it hurts to even think about it.

“Jet lag...”, you say, “I'll be fine”. You shoot a little thumbs up on his way to reassure.

“Why didn't Jin get the tree earlier? It's Christmas in a few hours”, you dodge the focus around you and walk near in an attempt to closely examine the tree for no reason other than feeling Jimin’s eyes a little too long on you.

Your brother gets visibly annoyed seeing you start a very unnecessary talk. So he is completely obliged to shoot back with, “Because you were in charge of Christmas decorations this year but your lazy ass flew down here only yesterday”.

“You know I was busy with Uni!”

“Whatever”, he shrugs, getting back to the box of tree decorations. You feel a little bad seeing yourself not being helpful during a festive season. It felt like you were procrastinating on your responsibilities as always.

“Um...is there any way I can help?”, you ask softly, earning a mischievous grin from Jin and your mom fills in the answer.

“We need more baubles. Also I missed out gifts for Aerum and June, so maybe you can get them”. Now this was already tiring and you were not lying earlier either, the jet lag was still choking you alive. You wonder if the huge pile of stars and glitters beside your foot aren't enough but then maybe it's true because this is the largest fir you ever saw for Christmas in your house. And speaking of the five year old notorious duo, your cousins-- Aerum and June, you have no other option than to step out into the butt numbing cold and get something for the sake of not getting your brains eaten.

While you stand there doing these calculations, Jimin puts a two and two and immediately suggests to tag along with you.

“That'd be great! Thanks sweetie”, your mom chimes, her fine lines of face gathering around her eyes while she does so and you catch her throwing a wink to your side and you pretend you never saw that.

“Thank you Jimin”, you smile in all honesty while he reciprocates the same.

“No problem. I'll get my car. Will you be ready in an hour? I think you just woke up”

“Uh...yeah”, you fake a laugh, “Yes I'll be ready in an hour”

Jimin still lives here in your hometown, attends a community college nearby and his house is just a few steps away from your own. You remember how you had the same analogy in your mind as well. You like living here. You like Jimin’s company. The lake Park and the annual ice skating competition in December and the bookstores and coffee shops at the outskirts of the town. And you can't seem to clearly remember when and where that feeling started to become foreign. Maybe it was a teenage quirk to explore the world that you are now a three hour flight away from all of this. It wasn't a deep regret, but seeing Jimin, it almost felt like it. It felt like you betrayed him. Because he seemed to be keeping his word to this day.

This year, it's a few degrees lower than what it usually is and you find yourself chattering your teeth together as you walk to Jimin’s house.

His footsteps rush to get the door as soon as you ring the doorbell and he greets with the same wide grin as if he hasn't just saw you an hour ago.

“Let's go?”, he asks immediately, getting house keys from his coat pocket and locking the front door before stepping out making you confused.

“There's no one home? Where are your parents?”

“Oh well didn't Mrs. Y/L/n tell you?”, he studies your features and gets his response so he continues “They went to New York this year for Christmas. It's some elder people thing I think...so I'll be spending Christmas this year with your family”

“Really!?”, you chime, and then immediately notice a very childish jump you did with tiny fists and all, feeling a little embarrassed at yourself, “Ah... uh I mean that's great”.

“Yeah”, he giggles, sounding like a twelve year old who is still waiting for his growth spurt, “Get in the car it's freezing in here”.

Since it's been six odd months you've spoken to Jimin, you figured it would would be strange and awkward to be with him, but his demeanor states otherwise. He could effortlessly begin conversations and build momentum with you and by the time you are at a thrift store, he is aware of the little gist of student life and the dramatically exaggerated history research paper still due.

“What are you getting for the twins?”, he asks, seeing you checking out the kids toys section with absolutely no idea and that's exactly what you reply to him.

“How about this puzzle?”, he brings a big jigsaw to your glance and you figure it's a great thing to have their little brains engaged and give yourself time to breathe.

“It's perfect!”, you add, immediately placing it your cart with a few decors you picked up from earlier aisles.

Jimin places an extra pack of Christmas candies in the cart, and you send him a questionable look knowing it's his way of bribing the kids coming this evening. He puts too much effort into people's happiness, something you wish you were capable of as well.

The shopping went smooth. It was therapeutic to get hot chocolate with extra marshmallows afterwards like he insisted followed by that very cliche movie scene where one of them develops a creme moustache and the other notices and dabs it off.

You want this moment to linger a little longer, but your whole family arrives in less than two hours and the decorations were due. If Jin doesn't have you in the next thirty minutes he might as well eat all the cupcakes your mom is baking as revenge.

“I had a great time”, Jimin states as he stops the car in front of your house, stealing the words from your mouth and warmth hugs your cheeks immediately.

“Me too. It's been long since we spent time with each other”

You hear a lone sigh with white fogs coming out of his plump lips while he does so, as if he were suddenly sad when you mentioned that.

“Are you okay?”

His grips tightens around the steering, “I've missed you”, he says, eyes meeting slowly. And as if he was suddenly pulled back to earth he conjures another sentence to not sound so vulnerable.

“I uh... It's just--”

“I've missed you too”

Even with the gear box painstakingly blocking the way, you throw your upper half towards his body anyways and you find him hugging you back. His hugs still feel the same from years back; safe and warm and filled with love.

If it wasn't for the constant reminder that your brother is probably plotting a murder against you, you would've stayed much longer in his embrace. Maybe the hug was a big straightforward for a bond still gradually blooming, but it didn't feel weird at all and when you pull back he is smiling down at you.

“I thought you two lovebirds flew off”, a very annoyed Jin states from above you. He is balancing himself on a chair to attach the mistletoe to the ceiling.

“Sorry hyung”, Jimin says. And somehow now you are getting super aware of the way your family is low key shipping you both. Not that it's an irritating thing of course though you seem to act like it. But you have no idea what's going on with Jimin, what if he said he missed you as your childhood friend? It's a lot difficult to segregate his priority of giving affection. He seems to be giving justice in terms of care for every living being he knows.

“The circus is on its way so I hope you both hurry with putting up everything together”, the voice above states, now lowering himself to ground after putting up the twig.

Three of you giggle at the mention of your family as a circus. Well in a way it definitely was. You have a bunch if uncles who crack awful jokes, a trait Jin himself as picked up from a tender age of ten. Then their wives and kids who share certainly the same braincells in comprehending things. You bet they'll ask you again about your major and your dating history once they walk in through that door amidst clearly stating everytime that you are a history major and yes still very single.

In the hallway there is a half decorated tree. A thread of fairly lights wrapped around the green and very few baubles hanging here and there.

“I'll put up the star and join you”, Jimin says, digging out a golden star from the carton. Though now he doesn't know why it was a good idea for him to announce that when both of you were almost the same height. He is just a few centimeters taller than you and the top of the fir is still very much way above your heads.

So with a chuckle you both figure Jin has to do it.

“This is your final year right?”, Jimin asks stepping closer to you. He seemed nervous about something. Or was it anxious?

“Yeah...you?”

“Yeah...”, his sweet tone was drawn almost like a whisper and you sense you should ask him further about what's wrong. But before you had to deal with a starter he continues,

“Are you planning to work in Chicago as well?”

“Sweetheart help me clean up the kitchen please”, your hear your mom's voice overpowering through the house. Which is good. Because you don't know what you are supposed to answer. It was as if he was almost hopeful that you'll choose your hometown all over again. But you aren't sure. So you take the opportunity to step away from the situation excusing yourself.

And while you are clearing the blobs of batter stuck on the counter, your mind is a haywire. What are you going to do? Though you know your whole family wants you to stay, it's still a foggy place to be in. Four years apart in another city as a college student has not provided much, except caffeine addiction and sleepless nights. Things were not even as fun as everyone told you.

A few steps away Jimin silently prays that you stay, because he had truly missed you. Even though you have outgrown from the eighteen year old shell as he had known, he finds himself actively choosing to be with you. Even when other things in life occupies his mind, there's an element of it which goes back to you.

“They are here!”. You groan silently, while your parents are throwing their hands in air, giggles and chatter fills in as your uncles and aunts and the taunting toddlers welcome themselves in.

“Y/n! You have grown so much!”, the older aunt comments, and you supply a manufactured smile to tag along. Other comments follow by soon, about how tired you are, gasps about not having a partner and future plans, all of which are not completely answerable at the moment but you manage to get through them all and finally excusing yourself back to the garage convincing there are more decor supplies in there.

Families are nice. They make festivals brighter and lives less lonely. But yours was just hard sometimes. Not that you completely loathed the people now fueling themselves off the cup cakes your mom bakes, you were just merely lost, still yet to come up with an answer to what your stance is after graduation.

“Hey...”. Jimin has joined you now which you notice feeling a warmth against your shoulder when he sits, with an extra scraf knowing the garage is still comparatively chilly than the house, “you okay?”.

“Yeah...I was just...thinking”

“Is this about earlier? I'm sorry if I made you anxious”, he quickly adds.

“No!...I mean yeah but, it's high time I find a ground with this. What are your plans?”

“I was thinking about teaching at Jefferson High”, he shifts rather uncomfortably. He is talking of the school in your town, your school, where you have lots of memories with Jimin, “You know...like we said during Junior year in high school?”

“I'm sorry Jimin”, you feel the guilt inside you growing, “I never kept my promises”.

“Hey...that's okay! Everyone changes. I just want you to be happy. I...I hope you are happy Y/n”, he reassures, taking your hand from your side and squeezing it between his soft palms.

“I don't know about that either...”

As much as you hated showcasing vulnerability to another person, you know Jimin is an exception. You had cried to him about everything during school days and he had never invalidated a single thing, even when you were visibly dramatic over a downpour during a family picnic when you were five.

Jimin is frozen on his seat as if he can't find the words. He was never good with words so instead he hugs you, a little longer than the last time till he is sure you have calmed down. Grateful for not ending up crying, you smile up at him and remind yourselves to get back inside to avoid suspicion, especially from the kids who take humiliating people as an important milestone to achieve.

When you enter back inside and get immediately surrounded by a million questions and chores thrown at you, you find your answer. Maybe your heart belongs back to everything your younger self had blabbered about. Not to mention, this fairly good reunion with your crush feels nice, though, he might still see it as platonic. Maybe he makes things less daunting.

By the way Jimin was owning everyone's heart in the house, it felt like he was family. Well in a way he is. But to put more clarity, he bought things together and his actions bought so much peace and love within everyone. Even the notorious twins listen carefully to him and help the uncles and aunts in the kitchen.

He is again by your side, two cupcakes rests on his palms and you take it with a silent ‘thanks’.

Seeing no signs of him beginning a talk now, you think of coming up with something. Maybe a memoir from today? Or about how absolutely handsome he looks right now? Wait.

“They are under the kissing twig!”, Aerum screams like the house caught in fire, her sibling joining by the side to provoke the habit even more.

“It's called a mistletoe Aerum”, your aunt corrects before pasting a smug across her lips.

Nothing changed. They are the same people. Hyping you and Jimin to kiss just like when you were thirteen. If the factor of time is removed, this is the exact night. Both of you cemented to the flooring as if you forgot to exist.

Both of your necks snap together to the mistletoe Jin had attached to the ceiling earlier. And when you lower your gaze back, face gawks at each other eye to eye. It's the same. He has that blush, the shyness from years ago. It's going to be platonic. Yet again. And this moment will only ever be romantic and flowery in your head.

June was the first to squeak, and Aerum shuts her eyes the moment Jimin is leaning his mouth towards your lips. It was difficult to relax under the stares of many, but when he ghosts his mouth over your again and leans in for a second kiss, you are fixated on him. Hands holding each other, the plump of his lips so soft it felt like you were biting into a fluff of cloud.

Maybe he'll have an explanation to your family for this. Not like anyone in the audience was disappointed. Your mother was almost in tears? And Jin looked hardly surprised with any of this. As if it was all swell according to his plans.

“You both are so cute”, one of the aunts awes and your mother is quick by her side, completely agreeing to it.

“Jimin...”, you return your gaze to the equally flustered man who just kissed you and he sounded almost breathless,

“I'm sorry if this was wrong it ju--”

“I like you”, you immediately snap in and his face is a void for an instant. Fully processing the words, his eyes disappear when he grins, “I like you too...a lot”.

“Are you two dating?”, the twins haven't dropped the case yet, running to your feet to help their curious brains.

“Yes...”, Jimin responds, looking up at you for a reassurance, which you quickly supply with a nod, “Yes we are dating”.

When the kids are satisfied they go away snickering to themselves.

“I decided to stay”, you say.

“Really!?”, his disbelief was comical, yet wholesome considering how much he wished for this, “I'm...I'm so happy!”.

Giggling at him, this time you lean forward and peck the corner of his lips.

“You lovebirds better get a room”, Jin announces and thankfully not loud enough to catch everyone else's attention.

Usually Jin expects a punch to his arms from his sister, but he sees how grateful you are for his mistletoe decor. He leaves the couple, satisfied that there won't be any more ranting about how much Jimin likes you.

Thank you so much for reading!! ♡♡

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