#lmao I’m not tagging everyone mentioned but you get it

[bisexualbrainrots]

Okay so I didn't expect to be so inspired by this post (plus my tags), but hey, what a hiatus does to someone right? @unfuckablebogtroll thanks for the inspo!

So, here's a snippet of whatever this will be (haven't finished outlining the whole story yet) also I know nothing about how social workers work in the us, so i just did a lot of google searches to write this, let's suspend our disbelief lmao:

“I’m here to inform you that from now on your son, Scott Howards, is going to be legally put under your care and will be moved into your residency, we have made an extensive background check…”

Buck wasn’t really paying attention anymore, two words running through his mind.

Your son.

Your son. 

“What do you mean son?” he had just interrupted the social worker and yet, she didn’t seem so taken aback by his clear state of shock.

“We tried to contact you these past few days, didn’t you receive our calls and email?” 

That made him immediately go back and look for his phone, quickly checking everything as he went back to the front door.

Three missed calls and an email sent yesterday. They weren’t wrong, but why did it feel like they were?

“Okay… but I don’t know anything about a kid, wh-who is the mother and why am I supposed to keep him now?” 

Tara explained it all, as quickly as she could, while still keeping a soothing tone in her voice. She clearly had experience in working with situations like this one, or at least some similar, based on how calmly she explained that the mother, some woman named Jessica Howards, passed away a couple of weeks ago and that there was no immediate family that could take care of Scott. The grandparents had passed away two years ago and Jessica didn’t have any siblings that could take care of the kid, so the next (or first really) on the list had to be the biological father.

Evan Buckley was a mess. Nothing in his brain was really computing, not even when the social worker told him about the boy, a six and a half year old kid who despite being named Scott, everyone just called Scotty.

“I-I…” 

“I’m sorry but, how did you find Evan? And where exactly is the kid now?” Tommy had taken the lead, something he knew by now to do whenever Buck’s brain was being useless. He held his hand, rubbing his thumb against some of the knuckles in an effort of grounding Buck, which worked slowly.

“We found a letter in her belongings, it was apparently never sent but dated back to 2018, probably around the time Jessica found out she was pregnant. We also had to do some digging based on the information and found his social media which, well, led us to this moment” she sounded exhausted, it probably took them a lot of hours to even find who Evan was, it was something Tommy could respect, that level of dedication. “And Scotty… he’s actually here, I brought him in the car, you don’t have to worry about much since he had a nap today and we explained all of this to him as best as we could. He also has his own blanket and favorite toy with him, it’s been really helpful to calm him down”

Tara mentioned the documents she had in hand and that seemed to snap something in the couple’s heads. They’d been so shocked at the news they didn’t notice the bundle of papers she carried. Tara once again explained everything thoroughly, that those were all the legalities Buck had to sign in order to be granted guardianship of Scotty, and asked if they could get inside to sign papers and let the boy inside the house.

Tommy nodded and took the lead again, telling Buck to get inside with Tara while he would check on the kid. Tara agreed, stepping inside with Buck who guided her towards the dining table, while Tommy stepped into the social worker’s car.

[librosamarillos]

Can I ask you why you portray Rhaenys in such a way in your fic? I really enjoy it all, don’t get me wrong, but her portrayal feels a bit off.

Thank you so much for your question! The short answer to this is that it’s supposed to feel off and one sided!

To further expand on that, we see Rhaenys through the PoV of other characters, but we never get to be in her own head to figure out who’s got it ‘right’ about her. For example, Aegon and Visenya both have a vastly different image of their little sister and her personality, despite the fact that they grew up together and conquered Westeros.

We see Rhaenys through the eyes of a grown up, very hurt Visenya, who clearly has a lot of unresolved issues with her sister (and Aegon too) and through her thought process we can see all her built up frustrations through the years. Little siblings have a way of getting under your skin like no other, don’t they? So through Visenya’s lens, Rhaenys appears as an annoying, spoiled and unthoughtful little girl. She has moments where she mentions a time when things were good between them and she misses her sister, but even years and years later, she has a lot of unprocessed emotions. (We will see them get processed eventually, I promise!)

Now, I’ve only given Aegon one PoV chapter, and it was the one where he dies, and even that I was highly debating to not include at all, but ultimately decided to go for it. Aegon is arguably this fic’s antagonist, as his actions are what kickstart Maegor’s downward spiral for the worst, so naturally he’s quite an unsympathetic character in this. His view of Rhaenys is the one closest to canon sources we have from Fire and Blood, so I won’t expand much on that. He views her from a lens of love, though in his chapter, he does grow to feel a lot of guilt about it when it came time for him to face the fact that he pretty much abandoned Visenya and just didn’t want to see it.

Maegor has no sympathy for his aunt, there’s no love lost here. It’s a great indication of how the relationship between the two sisters fell apart, as Visenya did not like to talk about her much to her son. In Maegor’s early chapters when he’s a young kid and teenager, there’s a lot of anger and resentment toward Rhaenys, who’s pretty much a total stranger to him. She does go out of her way to avoid him when she’s in the same space as him, so for Maegor that’s a loud and clear sign. He already has this non existent relationship with his father, yet he yearns for it so much. So imagine what it’s like to finally go see his father, only to see him love and dote on Rhaenys and their son, all the while tolerating Maegor and his mother. Of course he views Rhaenys as nothing pleasant and good, and in comparison to his own mother, he views his aunt as someone weak and foolish, who died in vain.

Then there’s Aenys, who of course sees her as his loving mother who was taken from him too soon. I’ve made it so that he’s in his early teens when she dies, instead of a toddler like in canon, so that Rhaenys has a much bigger role in his life and leaves a much deeper impact. So her memory is very much alive through him, and the fact that she’s no longer here to meet his own children really hurts. So of course when Maegor goes low and hits him where it hurts, things don’t end well. I’d like to point out that his idolisation of his dead mum, really mirrors Rowan’s, doesn’t it? ;)

Finally, we see Rhaenys from the PoV of two highborn Westerosi ladies, Rowan and Ceryse, who met her when they were both young, Rowan a child and Ceryse a teenager, but both make the observation that Rhaenys’ kindness felt empty and performative. To give her the benefit of the doubt, these two girls are essentially born and raised to be the top of their societies and a huge part of their culture is the Faith of the Seven, which both Ceryse and Rowan are devout believers in. Both girls have a history and background of being involved in charity, so of course they’re able to spot who’s in it for the clout. They both are able to see through the act and understand that Rhaenys is trying to soften up the image of the harsh Conquerors, to people who care about the little guy.

This could very much be true, she could care about them and it doesn’t need to be fake, but it is absolutely a performance of kindness. She needs to show to everyone that house Targaryen is not only about fire and blood and war. But to the two young girls who can see through it, it feels fake and disingenuous, therefore making Rhaenys untrustworthy to them. Both reach the same conclusion too, that they prefer Visenya for the fact that she’s not hiding behind any performance of kindness and relatability, despite how harsh and cold and distant she is.

Another thing both Rowan and Ceryse mention, that I really hope people picked up on, (please let me know if you did btw!) is the way she dresses. They mention it being over the top, excessive and in their eyes, gaudy. The Hightowers and the Evergreens are ancient noble houses, close to the faith, very, very wealthy and pretty much on top of the social chain. They’re the old money that doesn’t need to prove themselves to anyone, they need no validation, as the people already know them and their worth. So of course when they see this new money girly, dressed in jewels from top to bottom, wearing fashions that are gaudy and almost kitsch, trying to get into their circles, they can spot her out immediately. Another little note, that since both characters are very religious, modesty is something that is preached and taught, so flaunting your wealth in such a way is seen as very tone deaf. To her defence, perhaps Rhaenys simply didn’t know any better and was excited to get to afford so many new things that she mixed and matched outfits that looked good to her without much thought. Or maybe she did want to flaunt wealth and feign it ignorance and innocence, we’ll never know.

To finally get to Rowan a little bit more, she is very much attached to Visenya. She grows to see her as a mother figure after her own had died, so of course she loves her very much. Visenya relies on Rowan for emotional support from a young age, so she gets to see first hand the affect that Aegon and Rhaenys’ treatment of their sister has on her. Rowan doesn’t hate Rhaenys, but she strongly grows to dislike her because of how much pain her actions have brought to two of her most beloved people, Visenya and Maegor. While Rowan has the emotional intelligence to understand that Aegon is the one responsible for most of the conflict that exists between the three conquerors, she also cannot imagine ever having a sister and treating her like an inconvenience, the way she sees Rhaenys do.

Of course, Rowan is very young and clearly has her own biases, despite having the emotional intelligence to know she doesn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle, but as she is one of the main characters of this fic, her mostly negative view of Rhaenys is one of many that paint her out to be ‘the bad guy.’

The two conflicting images we have of Rhaenys were very much on purpose. She’s seen as either a sweet, carefree, kind and loving person, or a selfish, thoughtless and ignorant little girl. All of the PoV characters are biased and have their own reasons to be so, making the reality of things very difficult to grasp. I will say though, that since Rowan is meant to be our window in, her PoV will lean the most toward the ‘truth of it all’ if there can ever be such a thing. She’s a person that tries really hard to be objective (despite how partial things have become in recent chapters, she’ll get back on her feet, promise) so her PoV will be, in a way, a clearer one.

I hope this was a satisfying enough answer anon! I’m glad you asked, because I’ve gotten some comments on ao3 about this, and I really wanted to get the chance to expand here as well! Please let me know if there’s anything else you want me to expand on, my inbox is open! ♥️

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Santa, Baby

Santa!Art the Clown x F!Reader SMUT

Summary: There’s a Christmas Party at the club the reader works at. After bumping into a strange man in the streets, she spreads the word of the party.

cw: isn’t art his own warning??, choking, fingering, mentions of blood, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, mentions of kidnapping, biting, violence, p in v, hair pulling, scratching, blood play, overstimulation, creampie,

a/n: imma be real with yall, if you can’t handle watching the Terrifier movies don’t read fanfiction about Art bc tagging all this stuff in the warning was CRAZY lmao

~~~

It was the Saturday before Christmas.

Some people were out shopping, other’s having festive dinner with their loved ones. And then there was you. Getting dressed up in a slutty, red Santa-dress. It sat high upon your thighs, if you even attempted to bend over your matching red lacy underwear would be on full display.

Hoping the outfit would get you better tips. Maybe even a cute guy for you to play around with. Twirling Round in the mirror before leaving your house.

The weather was nice, so you opted to walk. You did not live that far away from work, sometimes the car was easier. But you could not lie that the thought of you turning heads on the street sent a thrill through you.

As you walked down the street, you bumped into a pale man wearing a Santa outfit. Knocking his black trash bag out of his grasp. White wig, red hat and jumpsuit, and big black shoes. Noticing his crooked nose and clown-like face paint. Rather peculiar for this time of year. Almost a mix of Halloween and Christmas.

His mouth formed an ‘O’ when your eyes met. Brows quickly furrowing down at you.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” you quickly apologized. Leaning down to pick up the bag for him. Your breasts peaking through the top of your tight dress. His eyes found themselves looking down your dress. Unable to deny his mind wandering to a perverted place. Not usually the type to feel this type of thing for people. Only desire he had being to kill and be covered in their blood. But something about you made a different part of him crave you.

“I like your costume,” you complimented, “There’s this Christmas Party down at the club if you’re interested.” You dug in your purse for one of the flyers. Giving it to him. Silently examining the pamphlet, his brows raised as he nodded. You both awkwardly stood on the sidewalk. Creepy smile never leaving the clown’s face. You continued to smile back at him, eyes looking around. “Silent type? How mysterious, I like it,” you tapped your fingers against his chest, “Hopefully I’ll see you there tonight, I’ve gotta get going. Bye!” You waved him off as you walked past him. His stiff body following you until he was facing the same direction. Eyes never leaving you. Peering at how your hips swayed and ass bounced in the dress.

What was wrong with him?

You headed down to the street the club was on. Waving at the bouncer, unable to stop himself from eye-fucking you in that dress. Booping him on the nose as you entered.

The club was decorated in all Christmas lights. A handful of fake trees placed along the floor. Everyone dressed up as different holiday characters. Elves, Snowmen, Reindeer, the whole nine yards. You were greeted by your happy coworkers as you took your place behind the bar. Preparing for the night of heavy drinkers ahead. Unable to get that clown out of your mind.

The Club was booming. Extremely loud Christmas remixes, people singing along and grinding together filled the scene. Strobing lights decorated the walls as the big projected screen behind the DJ showed clips of old Christmas movies without sound. It was difficult to hear your customers like this, good thing you could read lips.

There was finally a dry spell at the bar. Giving you time to stretch your neck and legs. Rolling your shoulders as you softly bobbed your head to the music. Taking a drink of water from your bottle. Almost every seat at the bar was taken. People hitting on each other, drinking away their sorrows, and some groups filled the seats. When a familiar face sat on your side of the bar. Loud garbage bag clanged against the floor. Causing you to jump out of your skin. Eyes peered over to the source.

White and Black face paint. It was the guy from the street. Your expression beamed at him. “Hey! You came by,” you reached a hand out to him in excitement. Wide smile painted across his face as he nodded at you. Still as silent as ever.

“I’m so glad you decided to come by. Still looking good in that Santa outfit I see,” you flirted. He snickered as he tucked his face into his shoulder, pretending that your words were embarrassing him. Hands coming up to wave off your compliment. Gesturing to your body, silently complimenting you.

You walked around the bar, hands tip-toeing up his arm, “Think you’re looking for a Mrs. Claus?”

The Clown tilted his head to the side. Eyes scanning your entire body, resting on your breasts with a devious smile. Looking up at you through his lashes, nodding slowly. You smiled at him.

“Can you cover me?” You called out to your coworker behind the bar. She gave a thumbs up as she poured a shot for a customer. You smiled giddily at him. His brows raising as he returned the look. He stood from his seat, towering over you. He was so tall. Long fingers wrapped around your wrist as he dragged you down a dark hallway. Garbage bag occasionally scraping the wall. He led you around as if he knew the place. Familiar with the proper hiding spots. Arousal pooled deep in your bones. Where his hand held your wrist ignited throughout your body.

He stopped in front of a dingy door to an abandoned bathroom. Opening it and allowing you in first. It was dark in the old bathroom. You never used this one, reserved for occasional hookups and doing lines for your coworkers. The mysterious clown flicked on the dimly yellow bulb. Pointing excitedly towards the old stained mirror. The words “Art Was Here” was written in some type of red. Assuming it was some lipstick.

“Is that your name?”

Art nodded happily. Jumping up and down and clapping. You leaned against the cold brick wall. Arms folded over your chest as you stared at him. Examining his tall figure. His loosely fitting Santa costume leaving most of him up to your imagination. Except for those hands. Long, strong fingers. Barely peaking out of the fingerless gloves he wore.

His expression dropped suddenly. Brows falling in a straight line over his eyes. Mouth sealed with a hint of a frown. You felt your heartbeat speed up. A small amount of fear taking over at his sudden mood change. His head tilted slightly, eyes tracing your body. Your eyes darted around the dark room unsure of what his next move was. Was he going to fuck you? Kill you? Maybe nothing at all.

Before you could open your mouth he lunged at you. Thick fingers wrapped around your throat. Strong grasp around your windpipe. Pulling every bit of air out of you. Your eyes widened at him. A smirk of mischief painting the corner of his mouth. Leaning forward as if he was going to kiss you, turning into a long stripe licked up your face. Shoulders bounced with silent laughter. Fingers tightening around your jugular. You could feel yourself struggling to breathe. Vision growing slightly blurry with each passing minute. Art’s fingers traced down your body, squeezing your breasts along the way. Hooked up under your dress. Raising his eyebrows in surprise when he felt your lacy panties soaking wet. Wagging his finger at you, partially shaming you for your arousal.

You gasped for air that you did not receive. Feeling woozy. Art’s finger going back down to your aching core, circling your clit with two fingers. A broken moan escaped your throat. Dark eyes stared at your face. Watching how it contorted when he would hit the spot you liked. Feeling his cock growing with the pathetic noises you made.

Just as you felt yourself about to faint, Art removed his hand from your neck. Your own hand replaced his as you began heaving for air. Sliding slightly down the wall, firmer against his fingers. He puckered his lip out mocking the tears that stained the corners of your eyes. Your moans were far louder now. Being able to fully express yourself and the harder feeling of his fingers. His dark eyes watched how your chest bounced with each moan you let out.

Art slipped his middle finger under your panties, sliding it into your soaked folds. Causing your body to buckle forward against him. Grabbing his shoulder for support as your legs grew shaky and weak. Emotionless eyes met yours. Face still and unmoving as you pleaded up at him with your doe eyes. Curling his finger while the others continue circling your clit. His name fell from you in a cry as you felt that familiar tightening in your lower abdomen.

He knew his way around the human body, that was for sure. Knowing all the right places to inflict pain or pleasure. Usually he enjoyed seeing the way people would desperately run from him, crying out in pain when he would strike them down. Loving the way blood and guts warmed up his hands. But here he was, keeping you in tact while still feeling your insides. Adoring the way your sensitive insides clamped around his finger. How your body begged for him to please it. Walls pulling him deeper into you. Still getting that same pleasure as he watched you cry out and cling to him. The way tears stained under your eyes and fingers dug into his skin pooling inside him. Feeling his own arousal begin growing in his oversized pants.

You began thrusting up and down on his fingers. Widening his eyes as he watched you chase your high with his fingers. Opting to slide another into you, curling and scraping against your insides. Grazing that spongey spot that sent electricity through you. Curiosity painted his expression now. With one final curl of fingers, you came undone around him. Walls fluttering and sucking in his fingers. Arousal leaking down his digits as he continued pumping into you. Your entire body began shaking as you dug your fingers into his shoulders, having to hold them both to stabilize yourself. Your face curled into the crook of his neck. Skin smelling of sweat and iron.

Art pushed you against the wall. Standing stiffly in front of you as you panted. Face red with post orgasm glow. Feeling your walls clamp around nothing now. Craving something more. A closed mouth smile morphed into a wicked grin, baring his stained teeth. Examining his fingers that had been inside you. Pulling them apart while they were still connected by your arousal, a slimey rope connecting them. Taking his fingers into his mouth, sucking the taste of you off them. Eyes rolling into the back of his head. Sucking them off with a pop.

Unable to deny that that did something for you. Your chest was tight as you looked his body up and down. Landing on the faint tent pitched in his pants.

The tall clown fell to his knees in front of you. Crawling over and throwing the front of your dress up. Staring at your ruined panties. Soaked lace sticking to your lips. His hand rubbed up your leg, with a tug of brute force ripping your panties off in one go. Cold air hitting your heated mound. He suddenly licked up into your pussy. Tongue dancing down the slit, lapping at the remainder of you. He took one of your legs and threw it over his shoulder, giving him better access to you.

Art ate you out like it was going to be his last meal. Sloppily, his tongue spread your folds while his hands held tightly into your thighs. His crooked nose bumping against your throbbing clit. Still overstimulated from your first orgasm. Knowing it would not take long for him to take you there again at this rate.

“Art, I’m going to cum again,” your voice was shaken.

He nodded aggressively, refusing to remove from your opening. He had found a new favorite taste. Unable to get enough of you. If he could, he would bottle your taste up and take it home with him. Or maybe even take you away with him. Lock you up in his warehouse so he could taste you whenever he wanted. He knew you would taste especially good when your period would come around. His two favorite flavors combined.

You began grinding down onto his face. Pushing his nose against your clit over and over. Chasing your secondary high, unsure how many more he would have you endure. Not really caring. If they all felt this good you would let him have you however he wanted. Unwinding on his face. Art pressed his tongue between your folds wanting to feel them contort against his it. You slid down the wall loosing yourself. Art held you up like it was no problem. A strange strength coming from him. Your eyes squinted shut momentarily trying to catch your breath.

Art continued licking until you subsided. Standing, his face covered in your juices. Oddly none of his makeup smudged. You had to find out where he bought his foundation. Hooded eyes gazed down at you. You looked so pathetic sliding into the floor in front of him. Tits rising as you panted. He pictured how your lungs looked expanding in your chest. Desire to rip you open filling his thoughts. Fading when he felt his cock throbbing.

Long digits reached out to help you to your feet. Releasing you and letting you tumble back, head hitting the cold brick. You winced when it started to ache. Silently he laughed and pointed at you. Miming you hitting your head. You scowled up at him. He definitely enjoyed your pain. Something you were too overstimulated to care about. He rolled his eyes at you when you did not laugh along with him, reaching his hand out again. Swirling his finger in a circle gesturing for you to try again.

Art pulled you flush against his chest. Stronger than anyone else you had ever been in contact with. Acting as if you weighed nothing. You fluttered your lashes up at him. Mouth hung open as you continued taking deep breaths in. Abruptly he turned you around, forcing you against the sink. Staring at him through the mirror. Watching how his hands massaged and stroked your torso in the reflection. His nose traveled from your shoulder up to your neck. Tongue coming out to lick at your throat. Pulling skin between his teeth as he sucked a deep purple bruise there. You moaned for him, loving the attention he gave to your skin. His hands gripped your chest, pulling your breasts out of your top. Cold fingertips pinched at your hardening bulbs. His eyes fixated on your chest in the mirror. Tongue traveling further up your neck until it ended behind your ear.

He was entranced by your body. Not ever taking the time to see how things changed when someone was sexually aroused. Being all too familiar with how the body acted with pure terror. Your fastening heart rate thumped against his hands. Feeling your pulse against his lips had his desires in overdrive. He could have devoured you right there. Smeared your blood all over the walls of this shit-hole bathroom. Fucked your bloodied mouth while you fought within an inch of your life to survive.

But that would not satisfy him.

Sure, your flesh ripped between his teeth would be nice. But hearing all the pathetic cries and moans you made for him was even better. The way you would whine his name was like music to his ears.

Art reached down, freeing his length from the confides of his red pants. He was swollen and leaking pre-cum. Pushing your back forward forcing you to bend over the sink. Holding yourself up with your hands as you held eye contact in the mirror. He kicked your legs apart further, making sure he could get into you. Grabbing his cock by the base and swirling it around your slick. Coating himself with you, testing the waters of how far he was willing to go. You were so warm and welcoming. He could always leave you out to dry. Just play around and never fuck you. But he needed his own release. And the way you whined his name when he dipped a little deeper his mind was made up.

Art slammed himself into you. Hands gripping your skirt upon your lower back. Watching the way your ass bounced against his cock. Wickedly grinning at the sight of him penetrating you. Tongue coming out to glaze his rotten teeth. Sound of your skin smacking mixed with your screaming moans was like music to his ears. He was relentless. Length hitting deep inside you. One of his hands tangled in your hair, arching your neck back to force you to watch in the mirror.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you called to him like a prayer each time he would sheath inside you. His long shaft stretched your entrance perfectly. You scrunched your face up and rolled your eyes back as he continued pounding into you. Mouth forming an ‘O’. Your insides spasmed around his cock as it filled you up. Art’s brows twitched with pleasure. His toothy grin was unwieldy.

His other hand gripped your ass. Nails breaking the skin as he clawed at your soft flesh. Loving how your crimson red painted your cheek. Collecting the blood on his finger tips and pressing them against your aching nub once again. Circling the sensitivity. Breath hitched in your throat as he leaned further into his grasp on your hair. Closing your eyes and screaming loudly for him. Feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly.

Art’s pace was brutal. Snapping his hips up into you. With each circle of fingers and flick of hips, you were seeing stars. Almost too drunk on cock to form sentences. Never imagining when you got dressed today your night would go like this. Lost in ecstasy of pleasure. Coil winding tighter and tighter in your stomach.

Fingers taking you to a place of pure hormonal bliss. Insides quaking and pulling him deeper. Art’s mouth shaped into an ‘O’ realizing you were cumming around his cock. Nodding with satisfaction as his dark eyes pierced into yours. Watching how drool fell out of your mouth and sweat rolled down your body.

Art pulled his fingers up, seeing the crimson red was now a softer pink. Shoving the combination of you into his mouth. Licking between his fingers like something from a porno. His shoulders relaxed as he continued fucking into you. Your entire body was shaking. Legs wobbled like they would give out on you any second.

His wet fingers rubbed at your chest. Tracing up and curling between your lips. Forcing their way into your mouth. Taking them like he wanted. He released his grip on your hair, planting the hand against your hip instead. Pinning you with his hips. Clearing chasing his own high now. Continuing to watch as he pumped his fingers into your mouth. Loving the sound of you gagging and slobbering. Feeling himself twitch inside you. His breathing picking up as he focused where he punctured you.

Watching how perfectly you sucked him in. Wanting to cum all inside you. Wanted you so filled with him you could barely walk. Knowing it would make you crave him forever. Addicted to the feeling of his seed inside you.

Hips pressed flush against yours. Shooting his white hot inside you. Coating your walls with his cum. Holding still so he could feel you milk him. He rolled his neck and leaned his head back, never having felt something this good. His chest pounded as he begged for air. Deep breaths filling his desperate lungs.

You slumped against the sink. Quivering arms and legs fighting to hold you up. Resting your head on your arms. Your cunt having been worked to its limit.

Art stood up straighter behind you. Flattening his suit down with his hands. Smiling at you in the mirror as he tucked his member back away. Waving his fingers at you.

You were unsure who this man was, but you never wanted to be apart from him.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! This is only my second time writing for Art, but I sure do love writing him. Expressing his mannerisms is so fun. If you have any requests for him, please send them my way! I look forward to future Fics! //

{tags}

@l0sercat ~ @tedi28 ~ @hyperfixated-clown ~ @papispam ~ @melaninatedhorrorqueen ~ @lcvsanaa ~ @dilfismz ~ @knoepfl ~ @tuttifuckinfruttifriday ~ @spookysquids

[joonberriess]

d o i w a n n a k n o w

p a i r i n g : jungkook x reader

g e n r e : stalker-yandere au.

t a g s : obsessive!jk, stalking, yandere, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non-con to dub-con (oc gives in but these are heavy non-con/dub-con elements), fingering, spanking, degradation, dirty talk (lots lmao), talks of baby-trapping, BREEDING KINK, unprotected sex, masturbation, hidden cameras, voyeurism, slut shaming(?), pussy spanking (doesn’t happen as much like you think it does lmao), blow jobs, head-pusher!jk, talks of imprisonment, actual imprisonment, there’s a cage for .2 seconds, dark!seven au, jk has lots of pet names, JK IS A SEX ADDICT AND WALKING RED FLAG, stockholm syndrome(?) debatable but tagging to be safe, morally grey!oc, oc is a anxiety ball, mentions of hoseok, oc has horny guilt LMAO, implied pregnancy, jk is CRAZY, size differences, jk corners oc a lot, face fucking, cum swallowing, lmk if i missed a tag!!

w o r d c o u n t : 19.8 k

s u m m a r y : “Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for someone new. Now I’ve thought it through, crawlin’ back to you,”

How long has it been? Weeks? Days? Months. You weren’t keeping count anymore—haven’t been ever since that happened. You make your way through the busy crowd, headphones plugged in and some depressing song from your playlist ringing softly through both ears. It’s cloudy and breezy—a gloomy sight—you think there’s a chance for rain later on. 

“Excuse me.” You mumble under your breath and push past everyone, bumping occasionally into someone.

Every so often an uneasy feeling creeps up your spine, like you’re being watched or something. He’s here, a sinister little voice says in the deepest crevices of your mind. Your breathing picks up and you turn your head, vision hazy from how fast you’re walking to keep up with the traffic flow. 

Blurry—just faceless people going about their day and trying to get to their destinations. 

You slow down a tiny bit, your earbud hanging out of one ear as you take one good look around your surroundings. Nothing, just stores and faceless people combined with the sounds of beeping cars and engines that become background noise. You find yourself staring ahead of yourself, a grim expression and your lips pursed. 

“I’m losing it..” You whisper. 

You turn back around when you hear it. “y/n.” Your body goes stiff, his voice alone sends you into an anxiety-ridden frenzy.

Your breathing picks up and your feet start moving faster and faster. You keep looking back in all sorts of directions trying to pinpoint his exact location. The entire world feels like a blur, there’s so many voices all around you start wondering if they’re all him. It’s a nightmare-ish hell not knowing which one of them is him—or rather could be him.

 

“...Jungkook.” You quietly whisper. 

Slowly, the world comes to a halt once more—everything falls back into place—you flinch as droplets of water hit your face. The sounds of traffic bring you out of your trance and suddenly you feel like you have room to breathe again. You settle one hand over your chest and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“y/n.” A startled scream slips past your lips as you shudder violently and spin around. Jungkook’s arms constrict your movements with the way he wraps himself around you.

“Jungkook–let me go..!” You curl into yourself and try to move away, no one bats an eye as you two stand in the middle of the crosswalk in the midst of the crowd. Your smaller hands grip his forearms weakly as you desperately try to shove him off, “What are you doing, let me go.” You repeat, a bit more forceful this time. 

Jungkook only grins down at you and tugs you closer, “C’mon baby don’t be like that. How long’s it been? Weeks? Months? I know that you miss me deep down as much as I miss you.” He whispers down in your ear in that low husky tone he always spoke in whenever you two were pressed up like this. “Don’t be so cruel sweetheart and give me a kiss.” He dips his head down but you move at the last second causing his lips to drag along your cheek. 

You level him with a stare, “I don’t miss you at all, in fact I haven’t thought about you for months now,” you push against him with a grunt of frustration because he doesn’t budge, “My answer was no the last time and it’s no this time, what can’t you understand?”

“Because I know you’re lying to yourself. You say this but when I ask you to look me in the eye, you can’t baby.” Jungkook turns to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek once more, “I know you still want me—us.” He pulls back to look deep in your eyes, forehead against forehead.

Your eyes drop down to his lips and a sense of familiarity washes over you. You recall the times he had his lips on yours, from how soft his kisses could be to the way he kissed you with such passion/force like his life depended on it. Your eyes slowly find his own and for a second you forget you’re both in the middle of a cross walk in the sprinkling rain. 

“Don’t think baby,” Jungkook whispers as he leans down, “just feel.” 

A loud honk suddenly shatters the illusion, you flinch from the loud noise and yank yourself back. You hear Jungkook curse under his breath, “Don’t follow me, I mean it Jungkook.” Your voice is wobbly but you do your best to sound firm. 

You quickly turn on your heels and surf through the crowds of people, ignoring their pointed looks from your shoving. The metro is twice as crowded (more than usual), you easily blend in with everyone else on the platform. Occasionally you look over your shoulder to see if he followed but you see nothing. 

The familiar sound of a piano begins playing in your ear, you slip your other earbud back in and lean against the pillar as you wait for the train to make its stop. 

“I put a spell on you, 

because you’re mine,

You better stop the things you do, 

I tell you, I ain’t lying, 

I ain’t lying,” 

The train comes to a screeching halt and you push yourself off the wall, heading for the opened doors. You tuck yourself near the corner of the train in front of these old grandmas and group of highschool teens. You hold on to the pole in front of you and let out a breath of relief, heart coming to a slow and calm beat. 

You always get like this after seeing Jungkook, he works you up into a frenzy and when you run off you’re left with a stupid adrenaline high that takes what seems like forever to come down from. You’re always left with an ugly feeling in your stomach, dread clouding your senses and an immense amount of guilt. One of these days you feel like you’ll give in all over again. 

Jungkook just makes it so difficult.

At first it didn’t bother you fresh out of the breakup, you had been clouded with anger and frustration the first weeks. Then when weeks turned to months of him trying to get you back you started falling into denial. 

Was the breakup something you wanted? Why did you seem to enjoy the way he begged for you? No matter how hard you tried to push those thoughts away a ugly little voice in your head was always there to remind you. 

‘Admit it, you want to let him in.’ It’d say. You do, but no one has to know that’s how you really feel. 

Someone taps you on the shoulder nearly making you jump out of your skin as you turn to look at them. Some girl stands with an apologetic look on her face, “Sorry, I’m just trying to pass through.” 

You shake your head and step aside, “No, excuse me.” You mumble out and look up at the window, finding a reflection of yourself staring right back. 

The loud screeching noises of the train coming to another stop has you casually looking to the side. The doors open and more people get on, some exit and others like you stay put. However, right as the doors close that's when you see him.. Your heart picks up again and you stare directly back at Jungkook who’s standing there with a devious look on his face. 

“No, no, no,” you turn around and look for a way out, the next stop isn’t for another five minutes and you’re running out of space to get away so running off isn’t the best option you have right now. 

You start backing away, slipping through the crowd and whipping your head back and forth in time to see Jungkook advancing towards you with a predatory look in his eye. He’s zeroing in on you making his way through the people blocking his way. Your breath hitches as your back finally hits the wall, there’s nowhere else to run anymore, and Jungkook knows this too. 

“Running from me again?” He chuckles as he cages you in between him and the wall. He sets his hands on either side of you, effectively trapping you in. Your eyes dart around but no one seems to be paying attention, it’s times like these you wished people weren’t actually minding their own business. 

“I know you miss me,” his breath is hot against your ear, it sends chills down your spine and has you shuddering in a pleasant way, “I know you want me..” He drops one hand down to your hip, gently caressing over it with his thumb, “Can’t you feel how much I miss you?” He breathes out and presses right up against you. 

Your face grows hot in arousal, you can feel the print of his hard cock right up against your thigh pressing dangerously close. You bite back a low whimper and look up at Jungkook, “I-I,” 

He gently shushes you, “Remember what I said baby: don’t think, feel.” He slides his lips against yours. 

The kiss re-awakens the once hidden desire you had stored away in the darkest corners of your mind. Your eyes flutter shut and you tangle one hand in his hair, the other curls around his neck and holds him down against you. Jungkook seems to like that a lot because he lets out a muffled moan in your mouth, the hand he had on your waist now moving down behind to your ass. 

You can hear the train coming to a stop and your eyes open as you take the opportunity to look over his shoulder. People are gathering their things and standing from their seats, you know this isn’t your stop but hell, you’d rather walk the extra three blocks to get to work than be stuck on the train with Jungkook. 

“Baby,” he mumbles against your lip and desperately paws at your jeans. 

The second he pulls off your lips you duck under his arm, he turns to swiftly grab your arm and try to reel you back in. He misses you by a few centimeters. 

“Goodbye Jungkook.” You whisper and disappear in the crowd of people leaving him there by himself with the same hunger in his eyes he had earlier. 

When you step out onto the platform you slip your headphones back in trying to calm your racing heart once again, the song playing becoming an eerie reminder. 

 “Do I wanna know?

If this feeling flows both ways?

(Sad to see you go)

Was sort of hoping that you'd stay

(Baby, we both know)

That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day,” 

+

Jungkook and you once had been happy together, you weren’t going to deny that. 

You had met through one of the rare nights you went out with friends for drinks and food. Your closest friend, Seulgi, had been the one to introduce you two, she thought he’d be perfect for you. Seulgi had NOT been joking around when she said you’d like Jungkook.

 

You both talked the entire night finding each other much more interesting than the alcohol that sat untouched. He had you hooked with his precious little bunny smile and playful nature, sure he had been touchy but who said you weren’t a little touch-starved yourself? You found yourself craving more of him, leaning into his touch and giving into his cute antics. 

The night ended with Jungkook asking for your number and promising you a private date later in the week. Dating Jungkook was a different story however. 

Jungkook was..different. You weren’t exactly used to the princess treatment and sudden obsession over you when you both began dating, you liked to think you didn’t like it but sometimes you weren’t so sure if you were saying that to convince yourself. Jungkook didn’t seem to have a single care for the world if it wasn’t about you. He was possessive, obsessive, jealous—everything that you should have looked out for according to the damn book. 

Yet you didn’t, you stayed by his side like a moth drawn to the flame. Jungkook had single-handedly managed to become your entire world, poisoning your mind with his sweet words and passionate kisses. He made you forget about everything, until there was nothing but him left.. 

Jungkook had come clean about his sex addiction even before you two started getting serious. You sat in silence when he opened up about his struggles and how it impacted his life. In a way you felt sorry for him, it was clear he didn’t ask to be going through this. Oh how you were a fool.. 

Jungkook stopped completely going to his sessions once you two made it official, at first you were worried but Jungkook always reassured you that it was fine. You let it slide for the first couple of months because you were stuck in the honeymoon phase of your relationship with Jungkook, too blinded to really see the problems brewing. 

His addiction became an inconvenience and disturbance in your lives. He went from fucking you at least two times a day to full blown whenever he could get his hands on you. It started off tame until he resorted to fucking you in places where you two could surely be caught. He’d bend to whisper darkly in your ear before whisking you away to some place “private”, where he proceeded to fuck the living daylights out of you.

You could never really resist his charms and begging whenever he wanted to fuck you. A sick part of you loved this—how he would pick you up like nothing and manhandle you to his liking, how he’d take what was his and worship the very ground you walked on. It gave you a sick thrill knowing you had him around your finger, but all good things have to come to an end don’t they? 

You come to the realization through Seulgi. “That’s not a relationship y/n,” she said, “it’s unhealthy for you and him to go on like this, this is more like an exclusive friends-with-benefits.” 

After hearing that you questioned everything in your relationship with Jungkook. So you did what you thought was the best in this situation: you left. 

You had felt horrible but what else could you have done? Jungkook wasn’t proving to you that he was going to try to get help again, and if he said he was going to he’d simply go for one or two meetings and then go back to that vicious cycle—and you were tired of it (physically and mentally).

Oh how you’d come to regret it.

“Hey y/n, I think there’s someone here to see you? I don’t know he didn’t tell me who he was but uh he told me to tell you he’s waiting for you down in the lobby.” One of your co-workers said as soon as you walked into the office. 

You gave her a quizzical look but she merely shrugged and went back to work. Trying to think of who it could be, you check your phone to see if anyone you knew texted you over coming to visit. It couldn’t have been Seulgi, she always called you ten minutes beforehand to let you know she was on her way. You don’t live close to family like that so they were out of the question. 

“Oh.” Realization dawns on you, “Jungkook.” You whisper and hurriedly run to the elevators, hitting the first floor button a bit too rough. “What does he want now?” First the train station, now your job? Were you safe ANYWHERE? 

The elevator dinged and you stepped out, looking around for the tall curly headed fuck who decided to yet again come bother you. You spotted him sitting there with a grin on his face as he stared at you from afar. With clenched fists you walk over, “We’ll talk outside.” You say through gritted teeth. 

Jungkook lets a low whistle slip from his lips, “Whatever you say.” He follows after you with a lazy strut, his eyes practically glued to your ass. You don’t even have to look to know. 

“What do you want now Jungkook?” You say without turning to look at him, you stand in front of a food truck cafe(?) just a little ways down the street. “I thought I made it clear the last time we spoke about us.” You smile briefly at the food truck employee and place an order in for the two of you. 

“Damn baby you’re so cold, not even a how are you Jungkook? Have you been eating okay or anything?” Jungkook chuckles, “When did you become so mean?” 

You side-eye him in disbelief, “Me, mean? When I’m literally the one being followed and stalked by you everyday since we broke up?” You say softly as you take both drinks and hold one out to him. 

Jungkook takes an annoyingly loud sip from his drink, grinning from ear to ear when he sees your annoyed expression, “I don’t see it as stalking, in fact I’m the one running around chasing after you just trying to get back together. You’re the one whose got it fucked in the head if you think I’m stalking you, unless you’re into that shit baby. I know you were into some weird shit but this?” He snorts.  

You don’t reply because you don’t trust your voice, or anything you have to say as a matter of fact. “Right.” He gives you a shit-eating grin while leaning against the food truck, “Admit it baby, you like it, I always knew you were a little fucked in the head but this? You like the chase?” He steps closer. 

The silence feels so loud between you two afterwards, you can’t look him in the eye right now. “Look,” you sigh softly, “I have to go.” You shake your head and give him one last look before you turn and head back to your job. 

He doesn’t follow this time. 

. . . 

“Secrets I have held in my heart,

Are harder to hide than I thought,

Maybe I just wanna be yours,

I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours,”

Jungkook sang under his breath while he sorted out a few wires, “Wanna be yours,” he trails off and lifts up the object he’s holding in his hand, “I wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust,” he whistles and walks towards the large glass window pane, “wanna be yourssss,” he ends with a soft little whistle note as he gets up on the small ladder he has with him. 

“That should do it.” Jungkook hums to himself, admiring his own handiwork. Jungkook takes a step back and looks around the room with a satisfied hum, when he deems everything fit he heads out, making sure not a single thing is displaced. “I just wanna be yours, wanna be yours…” 

A small green check mark lights up his phone, a robotic voice following shortly after, “Welcome, your new security camera system is now: activated.”

+

“So you haven’t gone out or anything with anyone? I mean I kinda figured since it’s been like a few months since all that happened.” Seulgi off-handedly says while stirring her drink around with her straw, “C’monnnn you haven’t thought about it at least once?” She pouts. 

You shake your head fondly, “No not really. I kinda don’t have time to think about stuff like that, got a big project coming up and you know how that gets..” You sheepishly reply with a shoulder shrug. 

Seulgi gives you a ‘I know you’re lying’ look, “Sureeeee, I can count this many times on my fingers the amount of guys that have either checked you out or tried to ask you on a date.” She wiggles her fingers, “Is it cause of Jungkook? Cause if it is girl forget him! You’re single now, you need to go out and live a little.” 

You take a nervous sip from your drink and shake your head, “Look I don’t even know if I made the right choice in leaving him! We weren’t that unhappy, it was just his stupid sex addiction that was tiring me out! I could have just made him get some help and we would have been good,” you pout petulantly, “ ‘s just that sometimes I think I made the wrong choice.” 

“Babe, I love you and all but you need to be a little stronger than that. Jungkook is the same guy who beat up another because he hit on you, we’re talking about the same Jungkook who had a unhealthy codependency with you and was pretty fucking obsessive. I’d say you dodged a fucking tank.” Seulgi scoffs, “Besides, he would have just gone and did the shit he was doing whenever you tried sending him back to therapy.” 

You hated that she was right about everything. Maybe it was high time to see other people and try to get out there. Deep down the very thought of meeting someone who isn’t Jungkook didn’t settle right with you. As much as you loathed the idea you knew you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. “I don’t know..” You push your empty glass to the side. 

“Hey,” Seulgi smiles sweetly and sets her hand over yours, “just think about it yeah? You don’t have to meet someone new, we can have fun in other ways like a girls trip or something!” Yeah a girls trip sounded nice.. “It’s getting late but give it some thought.”

You both pay for the tab and head out of the bar all giggles and smiles. “I’ll see you next week, yeah? Lunch is on me!” Seulgi waves after parting ways with you, “Text me when you get home!” She blows you a kiss. 

You pretend to catch the kiss with a quiet chuckle, “Bye.” You wave back, “Get home safe..” You mumble softly and turn to head in the opposite direction. 

It’s pretty late but you’re not too concerned given that people tended to stay out and live the night life in the city. You take one look at the night sky before plugging in your headphones, “She said goodbye, too many times before,” you mumble under your breath and lose yourself within the crowd of bustling people, unknowing of the hooded figure headed in the opposite direction. 

. . .

Jungkook had his hands placed all over your body. He sported a soft grin on his face, his onyx eyes watching in glee as little moans left your lips. “There you go,” he said, “let go for me baby.” He whispers darkly and leans down to slot his lips against yours. 

You lean into the kiss and whine softly, Jungkook doesn’t stop there as he brings your hips up in a bruising grip, pressing down and letting his hard cock rub against you. Your mouth waters a tiny bit just thinking about how he’d fuck you silly with that fat cock of his. It had you mewling for him, pawing at his sweats as you tried to get his cock out. 

“Ah-ah,” he stops you breathlessly, “not until I say so baby.” He stares down at you with a glint in his eyes, “Let me take care of you, I’ll fuck so you good you forget all about today baby, just say the word.” He says as he presses his forehead to yours, “Go on, say it.” He whispers. 

You jolt when his fingers slip between your sopping folds, rubbing up against your swollen and tender clit. “J..ungkook..” Your eyes shut in pleasure, “Please,” you grind against his hand, basically humping it at this point, “Fuck me, please, need it so bad.” You whimper. 

Jungkook chuckles, “Good girl.” He leans down to bury his face in your neck, “Good fucking girl.” 

Your eyes snap open and you jolt upwards in bed. You try to control your labored breathing with a hand over your wildly beating heart. “What the..” You look around your room, not a single thing misplaced. You figured it was another one of those nights—another “dream”. 

“What is wrong with me..” You whisper out and bury your face in your hands, blinking away your disoriented gaze. You sit in bed like that for a few minutes calming your racing heartbeat and the throbbing you feel between your thighs. 

This wasn’t the first time you’ve had a wet dream like this, it’s been a normal occurrence for weeks now. You’d go to bed then wake up soaked in sweat (and other places you don’t mention) and then go back to sleep hot and bothered. It was on repeat at this point. 

Your tired eyes shifted over to the alarm clock sitting by your bedside, “Two am..” You chuckle humorlessly and shake your head, “God what is happening to me..” You mumble and lay flat on your back. 

You stare at the ceiling for a few minutes just collecting your thoughts and trying to get a grip on yourself. “What is that?” You mumble in confusion and squint your eyes when you see a small red dot blinking back at you. “I must be going crazy.” You shake your head and turn on your side. 

The red dot blinks the entire night, sitting so innocently up high.

+

“You’re single now, you need to go out and live a little.” It rings in your head the entire morning. 

Even as you sit there in your private office you swear you can hear Seulgi’s words loud and clear in your ears. It’s really starting to bother you now, you’re half tempted to take your lunch early and nap or something. 

After waking up from the wet dream you had tossed and turned in bed for a good hour because Seulgi kept coming up. You swear you feel like you’re going crazy, this was just as bad as getting an annoying song stuck in your head. If not even worse. 

“Hey y/n,” Hoseok peeks in, “got a minute?” 

You lift your head up with a tired smile, “Sure, sit down.” You gesture to the chair, “Did you need something?” 

“Well kinda..? I don’t know if that’s the proper wording but yeah, but first here,” he sets a perfectly glazed cream donut on your desk, “Soojin brought some in and I figured you could use one.” He sits down across from you, “How are you?” 

You look down at the delicious looking donut sitting on the paper plate, “I’ve been..okay. Not the best but you know how it is with these big projects,” you accept the donut, “what about you? How’s the presentation coming along?.”

Hoseok shrugs, “It’s going okay, can’t say I’m too enthusiastic about it but it’s whatever. Anyways, that’s not what I came for,” he sheepishly smiles, “I was wondering if you were free tonight?” 

You stare back at him in awe, “Tonight? Oh, well,” your mind drifts off to the same words from last night, “I’m free..” You mumble while playing with your desk plants, “So…tonight?”

“Yeah..sure,” he sags in relief, “so..see you tonight?” He smiles. 

“Tonight.” You nod smiling back at him. You’re not so sure if your own smile mirrors his enthusiasm, but you tell yourself not to think that way. He says a quick bye and runs out of your office, leaving you a tiny bit doubtful. “Damn you Seulgi..” You mutter under your breath. 

When he’s for sure gone you take your phone out and begin dialing Seulgi knowing the girl is on her break by now. It rings forever and ever until it sends you to voicemail. “That’s funny..” You mumble, usually Seulgi never misses a call, and if she does she texts you during the call letting you know if she was able to talk or not. You check your messages and see nothing. 

“Hmm,” you call one more time but this time the call immediately declines. She must be busy, you think as you send her a quick text. ‘Call me ASAP, I just got asked out by that one guy I told you about.’ 

After hitting send you think nothing of it and turn your attention back to your monitor, blissfully unaware. 

. . .

The phone finally stops buzzing and Jungkook releases a sigh of relief as he shakes his head, “So fucking annoying.” He mutters while setting the device down on the counter. 

He sees it light up with Instagram notifications but he can’t be too bothered with those at the moment. He stares out the window with the coffee mug brought up to his lips, it’s a beautiful day out today..reminds him so much of you.. 

“Flowers would be nice..” He hums, “Maybe some chocolates.”

The phone pings loudly once again—a few times at that—and this time Jungkook can’t ignore the stupid phone and peers over to look at the screen. He nearly doubles over when he sees your name on the screen, “Shit.” He hisses when a bit of coffee spills on him.

When Jungkook cleans up the mess on himself he turns the phone back on, his eyes scan over the message, almost manic and anxious. But just as quick as his smile came it was gone..it was replaced with an unbridled rage. His grip on the phone tightened until he suddenly flung it violently into the wall, hearing the screen shatter and clank to the ground loudly. He was trembling with rage.

“So it’s gonna be like that..? Just gonna..throw me away?” He mutters darkly while staring blankly at the wall, “Cute.”

+

“Gave you all the money, gave you all my heart, your masquerade party, I was fucking drunk,”

You hum while taking a sip from your glass of wine, mindful of the baby pink robe you had on. It had been about a good hour with you just sitting there in front of your vanity listening to music and drinking wine. Seulgi still hadn’t gotten back to you—let alone open the messages you left her—you were getting worried now, half-tempted to call her again. You decide against it though because Hoseok messages you about the restaurant.

“Ugh…where are you,” you mutter quietly while tapping on Seulgi’s profile in hopes of her being active on Instagram, “could really use your help..” You shake your head. 

You give up after seeing that she hasn’t been active at all, in fact the last time she was active was literally yesterday when you both split up after the bar. You wonder if work was kicking her ass too. “Whatever.” You send her a picture of you curled up in your chair throwing up a peace sign, ‘wish me luck xoxo’. With that you finish getting ready. 

You don’t realize how much fun you’re having until you go for another sip of wine and then realize you completely drained both the glass and bottle. A soft pout forms on your lips as you drop your eyeliner over the surface, “Well that sucks.” You softly sigh as you stare at nothing (you must be tipsy given that you spaced out like three times before this). “Ugh.” You groan and push yourself off the chair. 

“Stupid robe,” you shove the silky garment off, letting it pool at your feet as you stand bare in your lace panties/bra. 

In your drunken haze you spot the same red blinking dot from the other night but this time it’s by your bookcase. You stop for a few seconds and stare at it before rolling your eyes, “That’s it, I’m literally going insane.” You throw on your pretty little silk dress which falls off your shoulders and manage to find both Prada loafers you were looking for all day since you got home.

You pose in the mirror for a few seconds before huffing and going to get your phone, “Seulgiiiii,” you whine into the phone, “it’s not funny anymore answer meee, I need you to tell me if I look good or not.” You lift your phone up to show your entire outfit to the camera, “Stop being a bitch,” you hiccup drunkenly, “okay gotta go, love you.” You mumble and stop recording. 

With your look being done you gather your coat and purse. As you wait for the elevator doors to open you feel your phone buzz and out of curiosity you fish it out of your purse and turn it on to check it. “Finally,” you sigh in relief when you see who sent you a message, ‘looks great mama, where you guys heading?’ 

“Mama?” You snort but bite your lip in excitement and start typing back.. 

+

The place Hoseok chose happens to be the same restaurant Jungkook took you to when you finally broke up with him. You stand outside with pursed lips. This place was bringing back memories—ones you worked so hard to repress and store away for good—and now you were forced to come back to the only place you swore to never step foot in again. It wasn’t like it was Hoseok’s fault, how could he have known? 

“Hey,” you say once Hoseok picks up the call, “no yeah I’m here, I’m outside.” You cover your ear with your other hand and walk around a bit to avoid the crowds of people walking by.

“I’m like less than five minutes away, traffics really fucking bad tonight,” Hoseok chuckles on the other line, “You should just go in, I made a reservation under my name already, that way you aren’t standing outside or anything since the weather’s bipolar as hell.” 

You chuckle softly, “Okay, I’ll head inside and wait for you then,” you turn to walk back when you suddenly freeze up, body going eerily still. 

“y/n? You still there?”

You stand there in sheer terror when you see who’s sitting there leaned back on top of the hood of his car. Jungkook’s eyes are already on you as he watches from afar with a soft smirk on his face. You notice that he has a large bouquet of flowers sitting in his other hand. “Y-Yeah I’m here,” you whisper, “I just dropped my purse I gotta go I’ll see you when you get here.” You hang up in a hurry and start walking faster. 

“Hi baby.” Jungkook licks his lips when you’re face to face, “Don’t you look darling? What’s the special occasion?” You hate it when he looks at you like that, like he’s ready to flip your dress up and fuck the living shit out of you in front of all these people. “What’s the matter? Cat’s got your tongue.” He pushes himself off his car and comes to stand right in front of you. 

You look Jungkook up and down, god he looks so good right now in his white and black striped shirt jean combo. His hair's messier than usual too, you just wanna grip it tight like you used to whenever he had his face buried between your thighs— “Baby?” He grins in amusement. 

“What are you doing here?” You swallow nervously while your eyes dart back and forth. You don’t even fight it when Jungkook’s hand comes to rest on your hip his thumb rubbing over it gently

“Ain’t it obvious?” He chuckles, “Came for my baby.” 

You don’t bother to ask him how he found out about you coming here, you see Hoseok’s car pull into the valet a mere few feet away from you guys. That certainly has your breathing picking up, “You need to go,” you push at his chest, “right now Jungkook, please.” You whisper out in absolute fear. 

“Why?” Jungkook’s smile drops as he stares at you with a cold look. His eyes follow yours and he stares darkly at Hoseok, “Oh I see now baby, scared your new boyfriend is gonna find out?” 

“Stay away,” you wheeze as you try to control your breathing while stepping back, “I swear if you ruin it I’m going to hate you forever.” You point a finger at him while rushing into the restaurant. 

As your breathing evens out you jump in terror when someone’s hands come up to rest on your shoulders. “y/n! Oh shit, my bad I didn’t mean to scare you.” It’s just Hoseok.. 

“No it’s my fault I wasn’t looking.” You whisper with a hand over your chest, “I didn’t go because I saw you pull up and wanted to wait for you.” You finish lamely. 

Hoseok can see how nervous you are right now, he looks at you like he isn’t so convinced but he doesn’t push it luckily, “Okay, let’s go.” He smiles and offers his arm to you. 

As you both stand in front of the hostess you can’t help but turn back to look outside. Jungkook’s still there where you left him, staring at you and Hoseok with that knowing look in his eye. You’ve seen it before too, and it sends a tremor down your spine while Hoseok leads you away. You sincerely hope he doesn’t do what you think he’s gonna do..you don’t know if you’ll die then and there. 

“I hope you don’t mind I chose this place, heard it’s really good here.” Hoseok pulls the chair out for you, “In case you’re disappointed or something, not that I’m implying that it just seems like you’re kinda lost here.” He says with a sheepish smile while taking his seat across from you. 

You quickly shake your head, “No, no it’s fine. I’m just a little scared from earlier is all,” you take a large gulp of water, “You know how it is with anxiety and all that jazz.” You try to brighten the mood with a smile. Hoseok luckily lets it go rather quickly and you both fall into a comfortable conversation while the bustling restaurant behind you becomes (a rather comforting) background noise. 

You quickly come to realize Hoseok’s rather pleasant to talk to. He’s the textbook definition of a gentleman with you, he makes sure to listen attentively to you and isn’t afraid to show you how invested he is in your business. You like the attention he’s giving you given that it’s been a cool minute since anyone had truly sat down to just listen to what you had to say etc. You like talking to him, a lot more than you find yourself willing to admit out loud. 

You even forget about Jungkook. 

“How’s the food?” He asks with a grin. 

“Mmm,” you nod while wiping your lips with a napkin, “delicious, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a place where they actually made my steak the way I asked for.” You giggle shyly while hiding your smile behind your hand, “What about you?” 

Hoseok shrugs, “It’s alright I guess,” this makes you burst out laughing, “what..?” He chuckles, “I’m being honest! Here, try some of mine you’ll see what I mean.” He holds his fork out to you and clearly you don’t expect him to feed you but at this point you don’t care you’re having too much fun right now. 

“I like that you offered me literally what I’m already having, just slightly more medium-rare.” You snort, “You’re so funny you know that?” You lean your head against your hand with a fond smile. 

“I’ve been told.” Hoseok gives you a closed-eye smile, “I think you’re funny too y/n, this might be one of my most favorite nights ever.” He slowly slides his hand over your own, just letting it sit there but you can tell he wants to hold yours. 

You find eye contact too intense and avert your gaze down to your intertwined hands. It feels so right..but so wrong for some reason. The same ugly voice starts whispering things in your head, ‘He’s not Jungkook, I bet Jungkook can fuck us ten times better than this guy.’ You bite down on your lip to suppress your annoyance, you have to find a way out of this—and quick. 

The interruption comes in a rather unorthodox manner as the chandelier suddenly comes plunging down right next to you guys. You jump in terror and pull back, “Oh my god–” You quickly stand up to avoid any debris. Hoseok jumps out of his seat too, rounding the table to crowd you as he asks you various questions like: “Are you okay?” or “What the hell just happened?” 

Through all the commotion you see Jungkook at the bar, propped up against the mahogany wood with a toothpick in his mouth and a sinister look. You feel another wave of anxiety take over slowly as your hands become clammy and your balance a bit unstable. “I’m g-going to the restroom.” You tell Hoseok and rush away, not bothering to stop and hear whatever he has to say. 

At the same time you see Jungkook push himself off the bar and start making his way over. “No, no, no.” You mumble and pick up the pace, rushing down the empty hall and towards the women’s restroom. You should be safe in there right?

The bathroom is dimly lit by the cheap fluorescent lighting, you push through and make your way into the last stall and lock yourself in there. Your breathing is labored and comes out uneven, or at least you think it’s uneven. You don’t know and you’re not exactly worried about that right now. 

With an exhausted sigh you slump against the wall and let your head thud against the tile gently, “God this is a mess..” You mumble and hide your face in the palm of your hands. You sit in silence, the small buzzing sounds that the lights make keep you from wallowing in your misery as you slowly start coming to your senses. 

You’re hyper aware of everything going on around you right now—the sounds of the water drops from the faucet, murmurs of staff outside, the lights—everything. You perk up when you hear the low creak the door makes as it’s pushed open. It hits the door frame with a dull thud—creaking even. You don’t give it too much thought until you hear it. 

You sit straight and push yourself as far as you in the corner, trembling as the sounds of his expensive oxfords click against the tiled ground. Jungkook whistles a low tune, pushing the very first stall door open. When he finds nothing he goes to the next, then the next, and then the next. You put a hand over your mouth, watching as his shoes slowly come into view as he makes his stop right next to your stall. 

When he finally comes to a halt in front of your stall he stands there calmly, whistling even more now as he patiently stands there. You stare at his shoes in horror and peek through the small crack in the door, he stands there with an intimidating yet scary smile. The whistling really sends your nerves into overdrive as you shakily reach for the latch. 

With a click it unlocks, you wait with a bated breath and then slowly push it open. Jungkook slowly comes into view, he stares at you silently just taking you in with his dark eyes. You stare right back with your lips parted in a silent plea. For him? You don’t know what you want from him right now, but lucky for you, you don’t have to do too much thinking. 

Jungkook grabs your face in his big hands, shoving you into the stall again as he kicks the door closed with a loud bang. His lips are on yours in seconds as he pushes you up against the tiled walls, huffing quietly against your lips as his hands come up to tug you close, body against body. You whimper in defeat and finally give into that stupid voice that plagues you in your nightmares. 

You bury your hands in his hair and move your lips against his own just as passionately. He hums in approval and snakes his hand under your thigh to grip it, you take it as a sign to wrap it around his waist. With this position your throbbing little cunt is pressed right over his hips, closer than most times he’s cornered you. 

“Mm..ah..Jungkook,” you whisper in between the harsh kisses, “wait–mm,” his lips sloppily claim yours kiss after kiss until saliva begins dripping down the corners of your chin. You arch your back and push your hips into his rather demandingly, “Jungkook, please.” You mewl softly while moving in slow circles against him. 

“Please what baby? After you tried to give away what’s mine to that little priss outside? You think you really deserve it baby?” He growls, “You’re fuckin’ mine,” he presses you harder against the wall, “letting that motherfucker put his hands all over you…after you’ve been so mean to me and run off everytime you see me? Gonna make me beg for it sweetheart is that it? You want me to beg for that little pussy?” He cups your cunt through your panties, pressing the palm of his hand firmly against you. “Hm?” 

You cry out quietly and shake your head, “No–I wasn’t gonna,” you throw your head back with gritted teeth. He interrupts you with a sharp smack against your cunt, one that has you keening in humiliation and arousal, “Jungkook..!”

“Wasn’t gonna what, hm? Were you planning on giving him this slutty little pussy after all? Were you going to lie to me sweetheart, is that it?” He growls low in your ear, “You can fuck him all you want baby,” he whispers as his fingers dip into your soaked panties, “but you know deep down no one is the same as me, no one knows your slutty little cunt better than I do baby.” 

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as he sinks two thick fingers into your poor throbbing pussy. There’s a sloppy squelching noise that resonates between you two as he fucks his fingers deep inside. You let out shuddery breaths and cling to his shoulders, pawing at him desperately as you tighten your leg that hangs uselessly around his waist. 

“Hear that baby? Bet he wouldn’t be able to get that little pussy talkin’, wouldn’t know how you like it fast and hard you filthy slut.” He leaves marks over your neck and shoulder, uncaring that your “date” was still sitting outside waiting for you to come back. 

He pounds his fingers knuckle deep, brushing them up against that spot that drives you crazy. Your moans spill from your mouth uncontrollably, they go from breathy and high-pitched to loud and clear. If anyone were to walk in it’s over, for fucks sake the door isn’t even closed! 

“J-Jungkook..” Your eyes slip shut and you whimper, “More,” you gasp out and tug him closer. You turn your face and slide your lips against his mouth in a slew of messy kisses and kitten licks, “Please..” 

“More?” The palm of his hand smacks against your sopping folds from the force of his movements, driving his fingers in deeper (as much as it allows him to be honest). He pistons them in and out of you quickly, so fast your pussy tightens around the thick digits greedily, your orgasm building in your core steadily from the hot pleasure. “Like this? Or like this?” He purrs as he brushes against your g-spot teasingly. 

“Like that..!” You throw your head back and moan, “Oh god…” You whisper, eyes clouded in tears of pleasure. 

Jungkook kisses up your shoulder and towards your ear, “Let go for me baby, I got you.” He whispers hotly in your ear, “Cum all over my fingers sweet girl, make it messy like you know how to.” His wrist flicks up, fucking your pussy with his fingers almost like he’s actually fucking you—the same force and brutality. 

Your legs quiver, pussy squeezing around his fingers as another dollop of slick runs down his wrist and your inner thighs onto a small puddle that formed during the finger fucking session. “Jungkook..!” You wrap your arms around his neck and press your forehead to his, “Yeah–like that,” you whisper breathily while staring into his eyes, “gonna cum.” You bite your swollen lip and muffle your moans. 

Jungkook licks his lips hungrily, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. When he feels your thigh stiffen he slots his lips against yours to swallow your moans and whimpers as you finally cum. You ride out your orgasm on his fingers by grinding back and forth on his hand. Loud whines and cries slip from your lips as you greedily fuck yourself on him, only stopping when your poor cunt throbs from overstimulation. 

The air between you two is hot, everything slowly comes to a halt and you feel like you can breathe again. Jungkook’s lips slip from your own with a smacking noise as you slump against the wall whilst panting softly. Jungkook easily follows, leaving gentle little kisses all over your neck to soothe the bite marks he had been leaving prior. 

“Mm–off,” you tiredly whine and shove at his arm, “ ‘s too much.” You mumble. 

Jungkook lets his fingers slip out from your gaping cunt, he doesn’t bother with cleaning his fingers and merely sucks the digits in his mouth, licking them clean with a devious look on his face. Before you can even think about anything Hoseok suddenly pops back into your head. Your eyes widen when you realize you left him out there all by himself. 

“Oh no, no, no,” you mumble out while pushing Jungkook off and scrambling for some toilet paper to clean yourself with, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jungkook stares at you with a brow raised given that he’s never heard this many cuss words leave your mouth ever. 

“What’s wrong?” He moves to cage you in, “Where you goin’ baby?” He lazily drawls out. 

“Back out there,” you snap in annoyance, all this pushing and shuffling around in the tiny ass stall has you irritated and feeling claustrophobic, “I can’t just pretend like Hoseok isn’t out there waiting for me.” You mumble while wiping at your inner thighs. 

Jungkook shrugs darkly, “I can.” He says so easily, “C’mon sweetheart, forget about him.. We can go back to my place and I can fuck you so good,” he whispers out while pushing you against the wall, “can fuck you on my bed all night baby.” He grins, “Might not even make it with how sexy you look in this little dress.” He whistles. 

“No Jungkook,” you sigh tiredly, “whatever happened just now is a one time thing, it shouldn’t even have happened! Especially here of all places, are you insane?” You shake your head and throw your trash out, “I mean it.” You look up at him, “Now get out of the way please.” 

Jungkook licks his lips, “Give me a kiss sweetheart.” He calmly says. You stare at him in disbelief but when he makes no effort to move out of your way you timidly reach up to cup his face and bring him down for a gentle kiss. Jungkook hums softly as he pulls back with half-lidded eyes, “Come home with me.” 

“Goodbye Jungkook.” You whisper and push past him as you hurry out of the bathroom. This was so not what you were planning.. 

+

“Your call cannot be connected, please try again,” A sigh of frustration leaves your lips as you hang up the call and close the app, “This is the fifth time..” You slump over on your sofa mindlessly scrolling through your messages. 

It’s been a week since Seulgi suddenly went AWOL on you. You had texted her to see if she was up to go out for lunch but you got no response, and for days now her replies seemed dry and odd. Something just felt completely off with her and now you were tempted to go over to her apartment yourself to see what was going on with her. You prayed and hoped she was okay though, wherever she was. 

With a fruitless sigh you toss your phone on the couch and sit there listening to the pouring rain outside. The sky was a gloomy pale blue color contrasting to the city lights below, the people walked on without a single care for the weather. You should know given that you spent your afternoon sitting in front of your large window watching the people and cars down below with a warm mug of tea on your lap. 

“Seulgi..where are you.” You whisper softly while curling into your blanket. You’re watching a random tv show when suddenly a loud clap of thunder and everything around you darkens slightly. You sit there in silence staring at the once animated flat-screen. “Greatttt.” You groan out and rub your temples, “Just what I needed, perfect.” You push yourself off the couch and head over to the dinner table to turn on the candles there. 

Not even a few seconds pass by when suddenly everything re-animates, you hear the sound of your microwave starting up, the tv turning back on, and the lights once again brightening the entire room. You stand there with the candle halfway in the air, a look of annoyance etched on your features. “Make up your mind will you?” You scoff and head into your room with your phone, intending to re-connect your phone to the wifi along with your other devices. 

You turn your computer on with a lazy hum and let it start up while you check your phone’s connection status. You mindlessly tap on the screen, accidentally clicking your bluetooth tab instead of the wifi one. Before you exit the tab you suddenly go still, “Oh?” You see a new name sitting there instead of your usual speaker etc. 

“Monitor system: 1.” You read out loud, a brow raising in confusion. Your home first off was huge, these weren’t your regular apartments—no these were massive luxury condos mixed in with penthouses. You lived on the top floor and most condos were separated handsomely with each having their own space to prevent any noise complaints. For there to be a new connection/device around only meant that it was coming from your home directly. 

Your neighbor’s walls weren’t nearly as thin for your phone to reach their own wifi radius, let alone their devices. This new device was inside your apartment. 

You stride over to your computer with purpose, immediately wasting no time in logging on and opening one of your newest softwares you currently had been using for work purposes. It acted as a signal tracker of all sorts, it was able to get the job done (via IP addresses of certain nearby devices). You waste no time in entering the information you needed, the sound of your fingers diligently typing away at the keyboard filling your otherwise quiet bedroom. 

The computer gave you an endless source code, you read along the lines of it and came to find out it was one of those hidden cameras judging by its original source name. You scroll down a tiny bit and your breath hitches in horror, the coordinates it gave you were a mere few feet away. You wouldn’t be able to exactly pinpoint the location but knowing the signal was coming from anywhere inside of your home sent chills down your spine. 

Your breathing picks up as you look around your seemingly innocent bedroom, not a thing misplaced or out of sight. You were a minimalist so it wasn’t like you had too much clutter sitting around. It can be anywhere, it can be anywhere, it can be anywhere. You repeated like a mantra in your head as you began tearing apart your bed, shoving at the pillows and comforters. 

You have to find it. 

. . .

Jungkook swiveled his computer chair side to side while watching the scene in front of him through his brightened computer monitors. He had three sitting around him all showing him different angles and displays. On the screen he gets a clear picture of your panicking form mindlessly throwing things around your room, looking under every crevice and surface—practically tearing your room apart to find his cameras. 

“Cute.” He chuckles softly while biting his thumb, “Do you think she’ll actually find them though?” He turns his head to look at his guest with a crazed look in his eye, “Or do you think we’ll have another week with them up? I mean she’s my smart girl, ain’t a computer whiz for no reason.” He mumbles more to himself. 

A low whimper—albeit muffled—comes in response, he hears shuffling behind him so he turns his chair around to look at the source of his oncoming headache. “Oh right, I forgot you can’t talk with duct tape on your mouth.” He laughs quietly while shaking his head, “I think I like you better this way though, you were always loud.” He turns back around and goes back to watching you. 

“Any day now..” 

+

The day that came after the rain was both clear and windy, you found it a perfect time to spend some time at the gym to get some things off your mind (also because you paid a hefty amount of money for this membership might as well?). You started off tame with the treadmills before you went off to some random machine, what you liked about this gym was that it was hardly ever packed. Introverts like you LOVED that. 

“I watched a change in you, it’s like you never had wings,” You nod along to the song’s steady rhythm, fully enjoying the guitar in the background. The sweat was building up rather quickly as you paced yourself, you were looking forward to having a good workout today, hopefully last night's events fade away into nothing. 

After you had found out about the hidden cameras, yes cameras, you went on a rampage tearing your entire house down. You were desperate to find them, not even the full blown smoking session you had after miserably failing to locate the things could soothe your poor mind and give you a night's rest. You were up tossing and turning, you think you got an hour max of sleep if anything. 

Just thinking about how you failed last night is enough to have you pushing through your burning muscles and keep going. You quietly pant in frustration, face twisting in anger as you wipe the sweat from your brow. Today you weren’t going to dilly dally, you were GOING to find those pesky cameras and burn them to hell, along with whoever did this. 

So far you had one obvious prime suspect, Jungkook. He knew your passcode to the house first off, put two and two together and you have yourself a (proven) theory, not a hypothesis, a theory. It would make no sense to accuse anyone else you hardly ever needed maintenance done at your place, and if an official from the apartment building came they were quick about it and under strict security measures. That’s why you paid the amount you did for your condo. 

It had to be him, who else does some weird shit like this? 

A huff of frustration leaves your lips as you stop for a moment to catch your breath. You close your eyes for a few seconds and count to ten before yanking one earbud out and getting up. You turn quickly and gasp when you hit a solid chest, “Shit I’m sor—Jungkook?” You peer at him in confusion and annoyance, “How did you get in here? You don’t even–ugh nevermind get out of my way.” You shake your head. 

Jungkook stands there with a proud little grin on his face, arms folded over his chest as his meaty arms on display, “Workin’ hard baby?” He chuckles. 

“Was, but you’re here now.” You roll your eyes and walk down the aisle of machines, “What do you want? I’m not in the best mood to deal with your antics today,” you take a deep breath, “in fact you’re the last person I wanna see right now.” 

“Who’s the first?” He gives you a shit-eating grin, he ignores the ‘you’re not funny’ look you cast at him, “Relax baby, I’m just playing around. Are you always this tense?” He says as he gently grabs your shoulders and rolls the stiff muscles under his expert hands. 

You suppress a tiny moan and roll your shoulders to shove him off, “Jungkook stop, I’m really not in the mood right now.” You mumble out and look at him, “Are you going to let me workout in peace or you going to bother me and waste my time?” 

“Just trying to help you relax sweetheart, what’s got you this worked up for hm?” He tilts your chin up with his finger, raising a brow questioningly when you take too long to answer. 

You’re stuck looking at him with glossy eyes, you just want to cry and you don’t even know why. You look off to the side and shake your head, “Come.” You grab his hand and lead him to the hallway away from everyone else, “I need you to tell me something and I want the truth Jungkook, I mean it Jungkook because if I find out you lie to me I’m so done with this and I really won’t want you near me.” You plead softly while grabbing his arms, “Are you or are you not the person who put hidden cameras in my apartment? Yes or no.” 

Jungkook stands there with a look of surprise on his face, no trace of malice or nervousness anywhere. “No.” He calmly replies, “I would never do that baby,” he pulls you into his arms and runs his hand over the small of your back comfortingly, “what’s going on baby?” He whispers. 

You press your cheek against his chest and hide your face, “I found out someone put cameras in my house, they’ve been watching me change, sleep, shower Jungkook.” You choke on a sob while trembling, “And I don’t know what to do. I can't find them, I've looked everywhere for them and nothing’s working!” You whine in frustration while tilting your head to look at him, “What do I do?” You whimper. 

“First things first baby we need to go about this calmly or else we’ll be going in circles and go nowhere.” He says and cups your face, “Can you do that for me baby?” He asks softly watching as you nod, “Good girl, we’ll get to the bottom of this okay? I swear.” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips. 

Technically you shouldn’t have allowed that, in fact you shouldn’t even be here standing pressed up with him like this. You’re a sucker for comfort though and you need reassurance now more than ever. “I gotta go,” you whisper while pulling away. 

He gently tugs you back in by your waist as he leans down with his lips ghosting over yours, “Give me a kiss sweetheart, just one.” He murmurs right before you can protest his request. 

You stare at him hopelessly and bring him down for a gentle kiss, resigning to your fate since he’d most likely not let you go without a kiss. Jungkook deepens the kiss, lips moving expertly over your own with a low rumble. He cups the side of your face with his large hand and strokes over your cheek with his thumb. It elicits a moan but you slip from his grip with a wet noise, you bite your bottom lip rather roughly and stare back defiantly at him. 

“You said only a kiss.” You whisper. 

“I know, but I just can’t resist sweetheart.” He breathes out and hoists you up in his arms, marching down the hall to the private shower rooms. 

You attack his neck in a flurry of kisses, biting down on one particular spot as payback for last time when he marked you up. He hisses low and kicks the door open to one of the stalls, immediately turning the water on. Hot water sprays over the two of you and you pull back in panic, “Shit wait my phone!” You yank your headphone out and toss your things under the door and away from the wet tile. 

Jungkook doesn’t ease up in fact he pushes you against the wall and begins kissing down the column of your neck, roughly squeezing your ass through your now soaked spandex shorts. “Fuck,” he says in between kisses, “you’re driving me fuckin’ crazy baby, I came three times just thinking about your soaked little pussy on my fingers. Even now you make it so hard to control myself,” he whispers harshly against your throat.

You quiver in excitement at the thought of Jungkook beating it to the mere memory of what happened almost a WEEK ago. It had your clit throbbing pleasantly as you tilt his face to look at you, “You really think about me?” You softly murmur.

He bites his lip with a groan, like your touch is the best thing he’s ever felt, “Fuck yeah baby, every night and day. I think about all the ways I had you in my bed baby, bent over and spread open stuffed full of my cock. I can’t help it, you drive me crazy, you made me like this,” he presses his hard cock against you, “it’s your fault I’m like this baby, so take responsibility.”

You choke on a moan and bite your lip, “Sit over there,” you whisper pointing to the small ottoman in the corner, “now.” Your eyes narrow when he moves a little too slow for your liking. 

Jungkook curses under his breath and lets you down, going over to the ottoman and taking a seat. He starts to push his sweats down but you stop him, “I’ll do it.” You fall to your knees on the slippery tile, your smaller hands replace his own and you tug his sweats down enough to fish his cock out. 

The mushroomy head peeks out and you want to moan out loud seeing that he went commando. His cock snaps against his stomach with a wet slap, a beady string of precum dribbles out of the head and down his thick veiny shaft. Your mouth waters as you take him in your hand and stroke him slowly, listening to the low moan he lets out as his head rolls back against the wall with a dull thud. 

You watch his lewd expressions closely and lean down to let your hot mouth hover over the tip, “Please baby,” he whispers, swallowing harshly. Your thighs rub together to soothe the ache you feel between them, you like this—him begging—it makes you feel like you’re in control for once. Maybe not by a lot but it greatly pleases both you and your ego. 

Your lips wrap around the leaking head, tongue coming down to poke at his slit and swirl around the sensitive tip. Jungkook moans breathlessly, watching as you slowly take more and more of his cock into your mouth. Your lips are stretched obscenely around him, like you’re struggling to take him—something he’s always loved whether it be your tight little cunt or your mouth. 

Jungkook grips the sides of the ottoman tightly with his knuckles turning white from his grip. You don’t like that one bit so you gently tug his hand and pull it towards your head. He gets the message and immediately buries his hand in your hair, fisting it tightly as he hisses, “Oh fuck,” his lips part as he leans his head back and swallows harshly, “like that baby, feels so fucking good.” 

You choke on a whine as you struggle to take the rest of him from the sheer girth and size of him. The tip pokes the back of your throat every so often as you bob your head slowly. You missed having his cock in your mouth, the delicious weight and curve sitting so perfectly over your tongue. You find yourself eagerly swallowing around him, throat constricting around his cock as you coat his cock with a layer of slick and slobber. 

“Fuck.” He growls out, his grip is unforgiving and he uses it as leverage to shove your head down on his lap until your nose is touching his pelvis. “Yes,” he gasps out, “like that, suckin’ it so good for me.” 

You sputter around him and pull back with a heavy gasp with a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the head of his messy leaky cock. “C’mere,” he pants, “can I fuck your throat baby?” He rubs his thumb over your glossy lip, “Hm?” You find yourself nodding timidly, lips parting for him as he guides his cock back into your mouth. 

This time you feel more prepared for it as you set your hands on his thighs and look up at him with shiny eyes. He bites his lip and starts guiding your head—up-down, up-down—until he’s completely lost in his own pleasure using your throat like a pussy pocket.

Endless strings of “shit” and “fuck” leave his lips as he uses you to get off. A few times he’ll buck his hips up but the gagging noise you make has him settling back down. Your eyes are teary and spit dribbles from the sides of your lips and on to his thighs. The filthy noises your throat makes doesn’t help at all, in fact he’s more turned on by your gagging.

 

“There you go baby,” he huffs, “my own little cock sleeve, only I get to have you like this huh baby? No one else.” He growls low, “Makes me wanna lock you away some place no one will ever be able to find you in, you’re mine to look at,” he shoves your head down on his lap and holds you there, “mine to fuck,” he lets you come up for air, watching you gasp and take greedy gulps, “and mine to breed.” He darkly murmurs and pushes you back down. 

You whine loudly, this shouldn’t be turning you on more than it’s supposed to. Logically this was your cue to get the fuck out of there but you couldn’t. You greedily listened and took in every single word he said and pictured it in your head. Maybe he was right, you were fucked in the head. 

Jungkook licks his lips darkly, “Oh? You like that don’t you baby?” His cock twitches in interest, “You like hearing how much I wanna lock you up and keep you away like a doll?” He rolls his hips and you notice how the muscles in his abdomen flex and go taut, “Or how I’m gonna breed you and keep that little pussy full of me until you’re pregnant with our baby?” He whispers. 

A long moan escapes your lips as you suck hard, Jungkook’s hands drop from your head as he lets you take control once more and bob your head. You slurp and swallow around him noisily while stroking his soft balls in your hands. You’re getting all worked up now but you’re determined to make him cum down your throat. 

“Fuck baby,” he gasps, “gonna cum.” His moans rise in volume until his hand is coming down to hold you in place, face pressed tightly to his hips as he cums hard. Long moans leave him as spurt after spurt of cum shoots down your throat and fills your mouth. You do nothing but happily take it and swallow it. 

“Lemme see,” he whispers, breath ragged and chest heaving as he watches you with half-lidded eyes. “Good girl.” He lazily smiles when he sees that you indeed swallowed every last drop of him. 

You pant quietly and rub your sore throat, you must look like a mess with your glossy swollen lips and spit in the corners of your mouth. “Jungkook, I—” you were cut off by the sounds of someone entering the showers, heading into one of their own cubicles and starting up the water. You bite your lip and shake your head, you suppose this can wait for another time. 

Another time.. 

+

You’re not the same after what happened in the gym, you might have been in a lust ridden haze but you weren’t insane to think that Jungkook was playing around when he had told you all of that stuff. On one hand you were terrified of him, but a darker part of you was scared he was right. What if you did want him to lock you away like he said he would, you were more terrified of the fact that you had enjoyed his little manic moment. 

However as much as you had liked it there was no denying one thing, that he was the one who put those cameras in your home. You weren’t naive, you knew what kind of man you had dated and his obsession with you knew no bounds. He was very much capable of putting those things in your home, everything just screamed his doings. 

You hadn’t let him come over to “help” you look for them, instead you spent the next few days looking for them yourself. You deep cleaned every nook and cranny in your place but nothing ended up coming out of it (well at least you had a clean house now). You needed to act fast, the more you waited the more he would spiral out of control. You thought a quick hook up was going to satiate his hunger for you? Wrong. 

In the last three days you went back to having more sex than you could think of, and Jungkook was restless. He cornered you outside of your work and then you guys fucked in the private parking lot. He showed up after one of your late night convenience store runs and took you back to his place and fucked you (mind you, you were on very high alert the entire time). Just yesterday he had boldly pulled you to the side in a empty alley way before work and fucked the daylights out of you. 

Nothing you said or did could get him to spill accidentally or imply that he was involved anyway with your hidden camera situation. You were desperate to get a reaction out of him, something—anything to get him to slip up. So, you did the next best thing that came up in your head. 

You fucked Hoseok right there on your bed, letting him spread you wide and plow your tender little pussy for Jungkook to see. 

Your lips part with breathy sighs and moans slipping out of your mouth. Hoseok wasn’t a bad lover by any means, this man knew how to angle his hips and move them at a pace that definitely made your mouth water in arousal. You had one hand tangled in his hair, holding him by the back of his neck with his face tucked away in your shoulder and neck. Hoseok didn’t seem to mind, in fact he was openly moaning into your naked shoulder with his lips dragging over the soft expanse of your skin. 

“Seok—right there,” you grip him tighter and bite down on your bottom lip. You hook your chin over his shoulder and stare up at the ceiling in your pleasure filled haze, lips parting in a ‘o’ as no sounds seem to leave you. 

Hoseok hugs you closer to his hot body and begins moving with purpose, growling low and muttering curses in your ear. His cock strikes deep and brushes against your g-spot ever so slightly, just teetering on the edge of hitting it. Your eyes slip shut a lewd “mm” leaves you as your nails dig into his back. Hoseok turns his head and captures your lips in his, moaning deep into the kiss while grinding his hips in slow circles. 

The filthy noise your pussy makes when he does so has your mouth watering from the sound. You feel more dollops of slick slide down your perineum and between your cheeks on to the bed below. Hoseok sneaks a hand below and rubs his thumb over your throbbing bud, circling the tender button and pressing down to apply pressure. 

“Seok..!” You gasp and throw your head back on your pillow. 

Through your blurry gaze you come across the same little red dot from before, the one you swore was the source of your undoing. You stare at it for a few seconds until you finally catch it in its blinking moments. You hide your tiny smirk by turning to bury your face in Hoseok’s neck, now you know where at least one of them was.. Won’t be long until you find the next, and the next. 

+

You hummed a random tune under your breath while going over the mental list you made in your head on what you needed to buy for the week’s groceries. You’re feeling refreshed and happily fucked out from the night before, you swear you wouldn’t be opposed to another night like that if it ever came down to Hoseok asking you on another date. 

You’re smiling to yourself when a rough hand reaches out and yanks you into the alleyway opening, you jump in terror and whip your head up to see who the deranged lunatic is. It’s just Jungkook (thankfully). “What was that for?” You shake your head and give him an exasperated look. 

Jungkook looks pissed, like never before and you’re not entirely too sure whether to be scared or turned on by it. “So this is what we’re doing now huh? You finally tired of me after having your fun and leading me on like a dog in the streets?” He says in unbridled rage while looking down at you with a piercing gaze. 

You squirm in his hold and try to unlatch his hand but he merely presses you into the wall more firmly and holds you there with flared nostrils. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, now let me go!” You glare, you’ve finally had it with him just tossing you around like a doll and moving you to his liking, “I said let go Jungkook!” You push him roughly and watch as he stumbles back, hitting the wall across from you as he breathes heavy in anger. 

“So you’re not going to tell me about that fucker you took into your apartment last night? Hoseok was it? You let that…motherfucker put his hands all over you?” He growls in anger. 

There it was, all your suspicions turned true as you stared back at him with wide eyes. How he could have known was obviously only one way, “How did you find out about that?” You softly ask. 

“I saw you take him in there.” He stands with his fists clenched tightly. Oh how you should’ve known what a smooth little liar he was.

You had seen this coming in hindsight, he may have the upperhand but you were always a tad bit quicker and smarter than he was. You had made sure to use the private parking underground entrance when you and Hoseok had both gone to your place together, so there was no way of Jungkook knowing at all—well through his hidden camera of course. 

“You’re lying.” You softly reply and look down at your phone with a bitter smile, “You don’t fool me Jungkook, you haven’t since the beginning.” The accusation sits on the tip of your tongue as your finger slips and accidentally presses on the call button over Seulgi’s contact. Your phone starts dialing her number and before you can hang up the call you hear it.. 

A faint buzzing sound in Jungkook’s pocket, growing more and more deafening to your ears as you both stand in a face-off waiting for either of you to say something. Jungkook tries to poorly mask his surprise but it’s too late—you know. 

“I have to go now,” you take a step back slowly, “I just remembered a last minute phone call I have to make.” You keep a close eye on his movements while backing out of the alleyway slowly and then turning hot on your heels, you need to get the fuck out of there. 

. . .

Jungkook brings the phone out and shuts it off, “Fuck..” He mutters as he paces back and forth while running a hand through his messy hair. You know. Everything he has done up until now has gone to shit, he has to speed things up, yes, there’s no telling what you’ll do now that you know everything. 

“It didn’t have to be this way baby..” He slides his hands into his pockets while walking out of the alley, “If only you would come back,” he chuckles bitterly, “now look what you made me do..” He tosses Seulgi’s phone into the nearby trash. 

Jungkook starts singing “do I wanna know” under his breath. 

+

You push through the crowds of people on the sidewalk, rushing through the masses with millions of thoughts running through your head. You’re not even sure what the hell you want to do now, you contemplated going to the police but you didn’t have enough evidence to properly accuse Jungkook. If you went in there now they’d just brush it off as another crazy ex story. 

Just the thought of him hurting Seulgi made your heart ache in pain as silent tears streamed down your face. Seulgi didn’t deserve this, none of it, it was your fault for having such a crazy ex boyfriend who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Now look where that got you, look where that got her.. 

“Fuck!” You sob out while pushing your hair out of your face and throwing your phone in pure desperation and frustration. You pace back and forth in your living room with tons of ideas but zero solutions. What were you going to do now? Jungkook was out of his fucking mind and now you were losing yours too. 

You knew you had to draw him in somehow, without him growing suspicious of you and your motives. Jungkook wasn’t stupid and you couldn’t try to treat him as such because then he’d for sure lash out and your plans would be ruined. You need to lure him in, if you could somehow get him into your apartment and use it as proof that he broke in then you could go from there. 

You take a seat at the dining table with your face buried in your hands, knee bouncing nervously as you take deep breaths. You know what you have to do, you’re just scared. Not of him, but of yourself. A deeper part of you wants him back, and that’s what terrifies you the most. You might not make it out of this, sane you mean. 

When night falls you lay there on your bed staring up at the white ceiling with your hands over your tummy. You’re nervous, paranoia rampant in your body as you attempt to calm your nerves. You had thought about it the entire time you made dinner, the food ended up being half eaten since you were too nervous to eat properly. As you laid there only one thing was on your mind: the cameras. 

During dinner you had come to the realization that you hadn’t taken the cameras out yet, and that’s when the ingenious plan came to your head. You knew he was watching—probably was right now as a matter of fact—you were going to use just that alone to get him here. How? The only way you knew how. 

After lighting up your candles to ease your nerves, you dimmed the lights in your room to a low fuschia pink color. You had showered and picked the prettiest silk nightdress you owned, laying in plain view for his pleasure. With a hitched breath as you slowly bend your knees with your feet planted on the plush comforter. Your legs slowly part as you bring the dress around your hips, you hadn’t bothered with wearing any panties—your cunt laid bare in the open with slick sticking between your soft folds. 

You brought your fingers down, swiping through the mess as you moan quietly when creamy slick stuck to your digits. You coated them thoroughly before bringing your fingers up to taste yourself, a low quiet whine leaving you as memories of Jungkook doing the same to you came flashing in your head. You began to imagine it was him feeding you your own slick, long rough fingers shoved down your throat as he whispered obscenities in your ear. 

“Good girl,” he’d say. 

Your eyes flutter shut as your other hand comes up to cup your tit gently squeezing the mound through your dress. “Suck it baby,” he’d whisper in your ear, “get my fingers nice and wet, there you go–atta girl,” another broken moan escapes as you pinch your hard nipple through the flimsy material. 

“Gonna fuck you nice and slow, you’d like that baby wouldn’t you?”

You whisper a breathy ‘yes’ as you move your slick fingers down to your pussy, “Want it so bad,” you moan, “want you so bad Jungkookie,” you mewl out while rubbing the pads of your fingers against your swollen clit. “Want you just as bad as you want me,” you’re not so sure you’re lying there, “need you to take me—make me yours, wanna be yours.” Your back arches as you dip your ring finger into your greedy little puckered up hole. 

“Open up for me sweetheart, gonna be a good girl for me?” 

“Gonna be the best girl for you,” your head thrashes from side to side as you teasingly fuck your finger in and out of your soaked pussy, “only you baby,” you keen, “no one else, not even Hoseok.” You gasp out as your thighs shake, “Want you to come take me baby, keep me and breed me.” Your lips part in a silent ‘o’ as you fit another finger into your cunt. 

Your chest heaves as you angle your fingers upwards to hit your g-spot, your cunt squelches and drips with your frenzied movements. The noises you’re making combined with the wet noises below become white noise, your heart is pounding in your chest and sweat builds on your brow. “Fuck,” you sob out in pleasure while moving your free hand and resting it around your slender neck. 

The pleasure heightens as you begin to imagine it’s Jungkook looming over you, hand around your neck and his fingers buried knuckle deep in your sopping pussy. Your toes curl and you find yourself teetering on the edge of your orgasm, it’s right there—just a little more. You pick up the pace until you’re slamming your fingers in and out of your poor cunt, striking your g-spot head on over and over again. 

“Go on and cum for me baby, be a good girl and squirt for me, I know you can. There you go sweetheart, get ‘em nice and wet for me,” 

A loud sob escapes your lips as you’re locked in place, your pussy quivers and throbs slowly as jets of slick spills from you. You cum harder than ever, vision going white as your pussy throbs and goosebumps form all over your body. You physically have to close your eyes from how strong your orgasm was. 

“Jungkook..” You whimper softly and let your fingers slip out of your soaked pussy. You curl up into a tiny ball on your side, panting softly as your eyes droop sleepily. You’re vaguely aware of your surroundings—the candles, the mess on your bed, the slick between your thighs. 

You just want to sleep now. With a tired moan you sit up in disarray, looking around your room with dazed eyes. It was now a waiting game on whether Jungkook wanted to show or not, you just hoped you didn’t lose yourself in the process.. 

. . .

You wake up around midnight delirious and half asleep. After cleaning your room you had settled in for the night and went to bed dreaming of nothing in particular. If anything you were having one of the best nights of sleep before you were woken up by something or rather someone. You sit up half awake while rubbing your eyes to clear the blur from your vision. 

Your apartment is deathly quiet, you sit there trying to decipher any noise but nothing comes. A beat goes by and nothing happens. You slump over with a tired sigh, “This is nonsense.” You mutter and get out of bed, you figure a glass of water will do you good and send you right back into your peaceful slumber. 

You slip out of your room quietly when you hear it. The front door keypad beeps loudly as someone—or rather Jungkook—punches in the code to your apartment. You freeze mid-way down the hall, staring through the corner of the wall as the door is pushed open and Jungkook’s dark figure steps in. Everything shifts from zero to hundred real quick, you cover your mouth and run quietly down the hall to the guest bathroom, slipping in quietly and standing with your back to the door. 

“Shit, shit,” you whisper, you didn’t have your phone and Jungkook was definitely going to stop in your room first before anything. You crack the door open and flinch when you hear Jungkook treading down to your room, pushing your door open slowly as he slips in quietly. You watch with a bated breath, flinching once more when you hear him laugh from inside your room. 

“Oh baby is this what we’re going to do now?” He says as he re-emerges with your phone in his hand, “You wanna play a little game of hide and seek is that it?” He coos while whistling as he luckily heads back out in the opposite direction, “Okay baby, we can play your little game if you want.” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath before stepping out quietly, you run back into your room and grab one of your pens from your desk, “Come out, come out wherever you are,” he loudly calls out from the living room. You drop a few pens and hiss as you whip your head up to make sure he isn’t coming. 

“Oh baby you must be sick in the head,” he whistles, “making me chase you like a big bad wolf.” He tuts you, “Why don’t you just come out? Just wanna talk.” 

You take the opportunity to peek out of your room and throw the ballpoint pen down the hall nearby your guest bedroom door. It hits the marble floor with a loud thud, the noise deafening in your ear as you sit still and wait for him to reply. Jungkook pauses and then you hear his heavy footsteps as he passes by your room and down the hall, “Knock, knock you in here?” 

You peek out and make sure he enters the guest room before you slip out and run down the hall, slipping into the open kitchen as you duck behind the marble counters. 

“We didn’t have to do this the hard way sweetheart, we both know you want this—us. I saw the little show you put on for me, you looked so fucking good moaning my name like that,” Jungkook says while going into each room one by one, “Bet you wished it was my fingers in your little cunt.” 

You peer over the counter, immediately ducking when you see him step back out from the hallway, “Oh the things I wanna do to you,” he whistles, “if you come out now baby all is forgiven and I can show you just how much I loved your little show baby. Don’t you want that? I’ll get on my knees and eat that little pussy out like you deserve.” He says as he steps down to the living room area.

He’s so close, your heart is hammering in your chest right now as you crawl away from the counters and to the hallway again, “I’ll treat you so good, I’ll have you dripping in no time. After I eat your cunt baby I’ll fuck you with my cock just the way you like it. Going to have you stuffed full of my cum like I promised darling.” He’s in the dining room area now. 

“So just come out baby,” he says softly, “I’m begging.” 

You hear him open the door to your study and you waste no time in quickly standing and making a break for it to the front door. However as you step out from behind the wall Jungkook steps in front of you with a wicked smile, “I got you,” He immediately brings you into his arms and covers your nose/mouth with a white rag. 

You scream in terror and begin pounding your fists against his arms, pushing back and trying to buck his hand off your face. Jungkook hushes you gently as he kisses your ear, “It’s okay baby, just let go for me. I got you, everything’s alright.” He purrs gently in your ear while pressing the rag tighter against your face. 

Your lungs burn from the lack of air, you hysterically sob and huff through your nose while the fight slowly drains from you. You’re dizzy from lack of oxygen and inhaling the strong ass chemicals. Not once does Jungkook stop comforting you while he holds your limp body. “There you go,” he coos softly, “just close your eyes..” 

Your vision begins to fade in and out as you sway, you didn’t notice when his grip on you slowly eased up. The rag was no longer covering your face but the chloroform was doing its job. It made a strong wave of dizziness hit you all at once as you felt yourself fall forward. Jungkook didn’t let you hit the ground, however the last thing you heard was his soft whispering. 

“What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you,” he softly sang. 

+

Your eyes flutter open when a stray beam of sunlight hits you across the face from where you’re lying down. The first thing you notice is the windy breeze coming in through the opened window, the white curtains flowy as they move with the wind. You blink through the confusion and slowly turn your head to examine the rest of the room. 

Black bars. You inch forward slowly and grab the black metal, looking up to see the same thing above you. Cage. Your breathing picks up as you begin pulling at the metal, growing more desperate by the second as you shake the cage with such force. “No, no, no,” the tears begin to flow before you can even stop them. 

A strong wave of nausea and pain wafts over your tired body, you rub at your head to soothe the headache while rattling the cage handle violently. “Somebody help me..! Please, if you’re there please help me!” You sob out while falling limp, forehead pressed to the metal bars in defeat. 

A few minutes of your soft sobs filling the room pass by, you perk up when the door creaks open, “Help me please,” you softly whimper while rolling your head lazily to look at this person. Your vision blurs and you blink a couple of times until Jungkook’s standing tall and clear in your peripheral. 

“Might have gone a bit too overboard with the chloroform baby,” Jungkook’s face twists in worry as he squats down to your level in front of the cage, “hey, hey shh, it’s okay baby I’m here.” He reaches out to wipe your tears with his thumb. 

You flinch violently and yank yourself back so fast it gives you whiplash, “Don’t fucking touch me,” you spit, “what the hell is the meaning of all this?! Tell me right now Jungkook.” You glare tiredly while curling into your side away from his reach. 

Jungkook ignores you and instead pushes a glass of water and some food under the cage opening, “I bet you’re hungry, here it’s been a cool minute actually..was kinda worried you’d never wake up.” He chuckles under his breath, “Go on baby, I made your favorite.” He says as he beckons you closer. 

“Jungkook,” you softly whisper, “where am I? What did you do to Seulgi—!” You yelp when the cage rattles as he slams his hand against it violently. His friendly demeanor instantly disappears once Seulgi’s name leaves your mouth. 

“I’ve never liked that meddling bitch,” he growls, “she’s the reason this entire thing began and ended the way it did! Seulgi didn’t know how to keep her fuckin’ mouth shut and her head out of our business and look what happened!” He shakes his head, “But if you really must know I already let her go so you can stop asking about her. She was useful for one thing at least...won’t be worrying anytime soon about her running her mouth I bet.” He mutters more to himself. 

You let out a breath of relief while sagging, “…I won’t forgive you for this Jungkook,” you softly say, “not this time. I gave you so many chances in the past but you never took me seriously and now look at you. You stooped this low because you couldn’t take no for an answer. When will you understand that I do not want to be with you, EVER.” 

“You see that’s where the lying comes in,” Jungkook bitterly smiles, “I know you don’t mean that shit because you had so many chances to run to the police or better yet just ignore me and did you? No, so don’t come to me with that shit that you don’t want me because deep down I know it fucking kills you to say that you do miss me and want us.” 

You stay quiet and stare back at him, of course he was right. You’re an enabler, you had so many chances to report him for stalking and harassment but did you? Maybe it was you wanting his attention but in the end you had no one to blame but yourself for indulging him and leading him on. 

“When you decide to stop lying to yourself we’ll talk,” Jungkook calmly says while getting up, “drink your water and eat your food, you’ve been out for a day and a half.” He says and leaves you to your devices. 

You sit there with a blank expression on your face, and the food continues to sit out all night—untouched. 

. . .

Jungkook doesn’t keep you in the cage for too long, in fact he lets you out the next day and shows you around the house. It’s a two story in the middle of the woods—far from the city you presume—Jungkook doesn’t let you wander past the glass doors leading to the outside, he keeps it locked with a keypad like the front door. You can only wander around the house and lay all day as the time flies by. 

It’s close to a month when you finally ask him what the date is. “Oh.” You look down at your bowl of oats and stare at it like it’s so much more interesting, “So close to a month?” You mumble more to yourself. 

Jungkook hums, “Baby the fruit,” he motions to the plates of fruit he cut up for your acai bowl you wanted to make, “flies are going to get all over the food and it won’t be any good anymore.” He says as he pushes a plate of bananas towards you. 

“Thanks.” You smile flatly, “Pass me the strawberries too please.” You don’t know why you’re being civil with him, in fact you kind of don’t know why you just don’t feel anything towards him—no anger, no malice, no nothing. You just kind of go back to how things were when you both were together. 

Jungkook holds the plate out for you, his knuckles brush against your hand and a pleasant little shiver runs down your spine. Another thing you’ve been having issues with, you were so fucking touch-starved it was like you were itching for him to touch you. Any form of touch you greedily ate it up, however your pride stopped you from seeking him out. You refused to let him know how much he affected you. 

“Thanks.” You softly say while tucking your head and distracting yourself with your acai bowl. 

Jungkook smiles lovingly, “You’re welcome baby.” He gently kicks your foot with his, reminding you of your stark size difference, how his long legs easily reached yours. You bit your lip harshly, tasting the metallic tang of blood. You just hope you can hold out for longer. 

These days you spend lounging around has definitely given you time to think about things. Maybe you’re fucked in the head too but you knew who exactly Jungkook was. You knew the type of person he was then and you most definitely knew now. From the very beginning you were very self-aware of his tendencies and unhealthy obsession. It was something you kept more to yourself. 

When people asked if you noticed how strange he was acting you simply turned the shoulder and played the innocent card. Of course you knew, and you fucking loved it. The only REAL reason why you left was because Jungkook wasn’t listening to you and things were starting to look bad on the both of you, people were talking and you didn’t enjoy looking like the fool whenever people asked if Jungkook was planning on actually staying for his therapy sessions. 

You had a thing for wanting all the bad things you shouldn’t want. 

And it was too late, you had already fallen in too deep to get out. 

“What you cookin?” Jungkook lazily asks as he bends low to hide his face in your shoulder, his arms wrap around your middle as he pulls you back until your back hits his chest. 

“Was craving ramen.” You softly reply, the question you had already sitting on the tip of your tongue. Jungkook notices your hesitance but doesn’t comment on it, he only turns his face to kiss the side of your neck with a lazy hum. “I was wondering..” You quietly start, “Do you still..smoke?”

Jungkook pauses, “Yeah why?” 

You sigh softly as he begins sucking on your neck, “Wanted to see if you could bring some pre-rolls or something. I don’t know why but my nerves have been all over the place lately and I can’t relax.” You lean your head back on his shoulder with a noncommittal hum. 

Jungkook chuckles quietly, “Don’t worry baby, I have some bud stashed away. We can smoke some together right now if you want to?” He sways side to side with you, “How does that sound, hm?” He drops his head on your shoulder once more. 

You nod, “Perfect.”

Jungkook has the blunt ready when you both finish eating. He lights it and hands it over to you, “Smoke as much as you want, I’ll roll another one if you finish that one.” He says as he lays back on the couch lazily while scrolling through the selection of movies and shows. You dive right in without hesitation and relax on the couch as you fill the air between you two with clouds of white. 

You both pass the blunt back and forth until there’s no more of it left and you’re both staring at the TV with half-lidded eyes. Jungkook has his hands crossed behind his head as he watches whatever tv show he put on. “C’mere baby,” he smacks his lips, “wanna hold you.”

You obey easily, slipping into his lap as you lie down on top of him with your head over his heart. You listen to his heartbeat with a soft sigh, “Do we have cookie dough, wanna make some cookies.” You murmur softly while closing your eyes. 

Jungkook grunts, “I think.” He replies, “Maybe, check.” He rubs your back and drops his hand down to your ass, resting it there for comfort as he squeezes your cheek through your velvet shorts. 

“I will.. Give me a second.” You reply, Jungkook hums in response and everything goes quiet after that. Soon his little butt pats stop and Jungkook lays there peacefully sleeping under you. Your tired eyes drift over to him and then the front door, you close your eyes and hold your breath. It was now or never. Weed wasn’t nearly enough to make someone completely knock out for sure but you think back to the small pill bottle sitting innocently in the cupboard. 

. . .

Jungkook sleepily smacks his lips as his eyelids flutter open, his vision is blurry and it takes a few minutes of blinking for him to adjust to the bright lights. He hears cupboards being slammed, drawers opened and then shut. He makes a noise of confusion and looks over with a confused look, “Baby?” He rasps out. 

Your head whips over to him, “You’re awake.” You walk over calmly and hold a glass of water, “Drink.” You hold the cup up to his lips, “You’re gonna need your voice right now.” 

“Huh? What for?” He notices his hands are tied behind his back on the chair, he looks down to see ropes tied around his legs as well. He looks back at you with realization coming over his face, “Baby?” 

You force the cup into his mouth and make him drink the water, some of it spills out the sides of his mouth as he sputters and coughs. “Now, tell me what the code for the front door is Jungkook.” You stand in front of him with a stony expression. 

Jungkook quietly chuckles, “And why exactly would I do that for hm? You think it’s that simple baby, how cute. Now untie me and all is forgotten,” he leans his head back with a long sigh, “C’mon, don’t you wanna go back to cuddling and watching that movie sweetheart? Promise I’ll even make it nice and warm for you.” He smirks devilishly. 

You let out a breath of desperation and irritation, “I’m not playing around right now Jungkook. Either you give it to me now or I break through the windows and leave you here tied up.” 

Jungkook looks at you with a dopey grin, “Go ahead, the nearest bus stop from here is three hours away. Won’t take long before I find you and bring you home with me baby.” He licks his lips and eyes you up and down, “Though I must say, you’re really doing wonders to me with those little shorts baby.” He purrs. 

You close your eyes and count to five, “Fuck you Jungkook.” You whisper out while pacing back and forth in front of him. 

“I’m righttttt here, all you gotta do is pull my cock out—” His face whips to the side as you slap him in pure anger, “and sit right on it.” He finishes with a smirk as he looks at you calmly, “Better yet, untie me, it’s the pent up stress right? I’ll give it to you so good if you just untie me baby. We can take it to the bed and have a nice night you and I,” he licks his lips. 

You grab the sides of your head as you scream out in frustration, “You make my life a living hell! It’s all your fucking fault I’m like this, I couldn’t sleep for months after I left you and then you appearing out of the blue wasn’t helping me! I would have been one hundred percent better off without you coming into my life at all, you ruined me! I tried Jungkook,” you whisper, “I really did but none of them were you. No one compared, not even Hoseok. They couldn’t give me what I wanted and it’s all your fault,” you grit your teeth and stomp over to straddle him, roughly cupping his face, “so take responsibility.” You hiss. 

Jungkook licks his lips as his eyes drop down to your lips and then you, “So take it,” he whispers, “take what you want.” 

You stare at him for a few minutes before smashing your lips against his in a rough teeth-clashing kiss. Jungkook moans and leans into the kiss, chasing after your lips as you both roughly move against each other. He hisses when you bite down on his lower lip and tug gently. “Baby—”

“Shut the fuck up.” You glare while reaching below to push his sweats down his thighs and around his knees, “You don’t get to baby me,” you briefly stand to shove your shorts down, “not after all the hell you put me through these months. You have any idea how much I wanted you?” You climb back on to his lap once your panties come off, “No—you don’t.”

Jungkook’s mouth gapes open as he watches you lick your fingers and bring them down between your soft thighs, “So no, you’re not going to take this from me. You’re going to sit there and watch me fuck myself,” he moans loudly when the words leave your lips, “and you’re not going to touch me until I say so. If you try to rush or beg me I’m going to gag you, understood?” 

“Yes baby.” He whispers back. 

You circle your clit slowly with the tip of your finger to ease some tension you had. Jungkook’s eyes flicker down to watch you as you work your fingers over your clit slowly. You bite your lip to suppress your moan, thighs spreading a tiny bit more around his hips to give him more access. 

“I thought about you a lot, you know?” You softly sigh while rolling your hips slowly, “Can’t tell you how many times I fucked myself thinking about you..” You cut off with a loud moan as you pop a finger inside your sopping little cunt. 

Jungkook bites down on his lip as he looks up to watch your face closely, “I even imagined it was you whenever I fucked someone else.” You whisper darkly in his ear while pumping your finger in and out, “Hoseok could never, didn’t even compare to your cock.” You bite his earlobe teasingly while reaching down to wrap around his cock with your free hand. 

“Fuck baby,” he whines, “let me out, c’mon, I’ll fuck you so good.” He pleads softly.

 

You squeeze your hand around his throbbing shaft, “What did I say?” You whisper, relishing in his pained moan, “If you’re good for me I’ll let you fuck me..all, night, long.” You peck his cheek. It’s enough for Jungkook to quieten down as he pants softly. You grin in satisfaction and pop your finger out, “Open.” You press against his lips. 

Jungkook easily opens his mouth and you slip your finger in, he greedily sucks and swirls his tongue around the wet digit before letting go with a low pop after he cleans your slick off. You giggle quietly and run your thumb over the head of his cock, “Missed your cock baby,” you softly smirk, “missed how well it fills me up, how fat and big it is…just right for me.” You aim the weeping head over your folds, rubbing him back and forth as you smear your slick around. 

Jungkook throws his head back, “Yeah?” He breathes out, “Why don’t you slip it in baby? Fuck yourself on my cock, nice and slow.”

You let the tip catch on your hole, prodding at you stubbornly as he threatens to slip inside. “Do me a favor baby..” You whisper, watching his eyes brighten as he perks up, “Shut the fuck up.” You bring him in for a kiss, effectively shutting him up while you press his cock into you. 

Your hips raise and slowly inch downwards as you slip his fat cock inside, you moan against his lips as his cock slowly slides inch for inch. You let his cock go and wrap your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as you slowly come to a halt once you sit down on his lap bottomed out. Jungkook groans low through his teeth, eyes squeezed shut as he shakes from being held back by the ropes. 

“Fuck,” you sigh in pleasure while circling your hips, “so good..” You bounce on his cock lightly, the fat of your ass jiggling as you move up and down, side to side. Jungkook’s face twists in pleasure as he leans his head back. You lick your lips and watch him with close eyes, “You like that Jungkookie? Love how tight I feel around you baby?” 

“God yes,” Jungkook whispers as he shudders, “love having your little pussy wrapped around my cock. Wanna stay like this forever.” He groans out, “C’mon baby, untie me and I’ll fuck you just the way you deserve. Gonna have you screaming and crying all over my cock.” 

You mewl loudly and bounce faster on his lap, the very thought of him fucking you like he’s promsing is tempting you to untie him. But just as quickly as the temptation came, it goes. You end up slamming your hips down until your ass slaps against his thighs loudly, his cock slams deep and hits your g-spot. “Mmm..!” You throw your head back. 

Jungkook hisses in pleasure as he mindlessly begs for you to let him go, he alternates between loud moans and slurred words. Your thighs begin to ache rather quickly and your pace begins slowing down. You switch from bouncing to grinding, rocking your hips quickly and in ways that have him gasping for more. 

The poor chair begins creaking under the weight of you both, loud squelches fill the room as slick dribbles down your pussy and his cock to his balls. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as you stop to press down and work your hips in circles of eights. “Oh fuckkk..” You whisper out as your thighs tremble, “Jungkook..!” You squeal as your orgasm takes you by surprise. 

Jungkook in that moment manages to untie the knots around his wrists, he pulls you closer on his lap while biting down on your shoulder, “Untie my feet, right now.” He growls, “I played your little game now it’s my turn.” 

You mewl shakily and reach down to pull both knots free, he wastes no time in lifting you up as he carries you to the table, bending you over the surface. You gasp in surprise when his hand swoops down to smack you hard across your ass. “Stay still.” He growls as he lines his cock up with your pussy and shoves it in one go. 

Your mouth falls open as he begins plowing your pussy like no tomorrow. Jungkook grips your hips tight while smacking his hips into your ass, watching as your cheeks collide with his pelvis. He grunts with effort and reaches down to bring the hem of his shirt up to his mouth, biting it as he holds it up to watch the way his cock disappears into your drenched pussy. 

“Jungkook..!” You cry out, “P-Please, ‘s too much,” you drool while gripping the edge of the table. 

The table screeches loudly as it shakes from the force of his thrusts. Jungkook reaches around to pinch and rub at your sensitive clit, ignoring your squeals and pained moans. His balls slap against your folds with wet pap sounds, you can tell by the way his pace is stuttering that he’s close to coming too. You purposely clench around him, relishing in the muffled moan he lets out. 

He grabs at your hip bones painfully, digging his fingernails in as his hips stutter in their movements. He slams in once, twice, and finally a third until he goes still. His cock throbs and twitches violently as his cum fills you spurt after spurt. He releases a long moan, idly grinding in to milk his cock/orgasm. 

“Fuck..” You whisper breathlessly while laying on the table with your cheek against the wood, your eyes glazed over. 

Beats of silence pass by until Jungkook’s leaning over to whisper in your ear, “You’re mine baby.” He says while kissing your ear and neck.

You hum quietly and lean into his touch, “I love you.” You softly whisper, no longer against the idea of loving and wanting to be with him. Jungkook hums back, he sounds pleased with your answer as he smooths his hands over your hips. You close your eyes tiredly and lick your dry lips, hearing him utter back to you. 

“I love you too baby.” 

+

You drowned out the sounds of the people laughing and cheering in the background. You looked around the brightened room with a smile on your red painted lips, greeting some of the on-goers as they passed by you. Tonight was somewhat of a special night for you—your birthday. All your friends and family surrounded and showered you with endless gifts and praises. 

However none were Jungkook. 

He was pressed up against your back just laughing and talking with friends, catching up if you will. “Me and y/n decided to work things out you know? We took a last minute trip out of town and rented out a cabin to get away from everything you know?” He said. 

You merely smile when they turn to look at you, “We decided to get back together.”

Everyone cheered and congratulated you both, however one person in particular stood back from the others. Seulgi. She hadn't been the same since Jungkook let her go, you can see just how much it affected her seeing him. Although Jungkook swore to you he didn’t harm her physically, the damage was already done mentally. 

Seulgi stood far back from the others, eyeing you and Jungkook with both distaste and fear in her eyes. She hadn’t made a move to come talk to you at all, but you didn’t care. If anything you continued on like nothing was happening, like there wasn’t any animosity between you, her, and Jungkook. She knew better. 

Jungkook smugly turns to look at Seulgi, raising his glass of wine at her as a toast before taking a sip. He curls his hand right over your tummy, where the tiniest of bumps hides underneath your dress. Seulgi can only turn away, if only they knew just how far Jeon Jungkook was willing to go in the name of love. 

If only they knew the secrets you chose to keep..

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan

[jjunieworld]

#WIP ⟢ THE SALT UNDER THE SEA ˒˒ 심재윤 ⨾ 박종성 ▸  part two of the player’s game series⌇playlist & series tag

the death of your grandma has you returning back to your mother’s seaside hometown—the same town you left jake in a year ago—for good. now that you’re back, so are the feelings you really desperately wished to leave behind. it doesn’t help that now you’re caught in the crossfire of two guys with a rough past who want to be with you.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ sim jaeyun x reader, park jongseong x reader 𓄵 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 cousin jungwon, bestfriend!jay, player!sunghoon, and oc hana (jake’s ex)

genre﹙📓﹚⸝⸝⸝ exes to lovers, bestfriends to ???, angst, smut, fluff, lifeguard!jake, ex player!jake, bestfriend!jay, lifeguard!jay, lifeguarding inaccuracies, love triangle, slice of life, some h2o references, beach au, summer romance

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ if you didn’t like reader in the first part then you won’t like her in this one, reader’s grandma passing and mentions of reader’s dad passing, multiple unprotected sex scenes, soft dom!jake, mean dom!jay, toxicity, jayke constantly one-uping each other, arguing, semi-public sex, size training, corruption kink full smut tags in actual post . . . !

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ this was a long time coming lmao i’m so so sorry to everyone who has been waiting (◞‸◟；) with my month long break and adjusting to writing again i’m finally ready to start working on this series again! this is my main priority so i will try to get it out as soon as i possibly can!! this post will be updated as i work on it! ^^ all feedback and asks on suggestions are welcome! ♡

release date ⸝⸝⸝ sept 20th, 2024 ⋆ progress updates here!

∿ [ teaser wc: 0.7k ] ∿ [ current wc: 26.1k ] ⋆ [ continue to . . . wips , masterlist ]

send an ask or reply to this post if you want to be tagged when finished! minors and ageless/blank blogs will not be tagged. please have a visible age. my permanent taglist will already be tagged!

⟢ READ HERE!

your heart beat fast as you looked out the plane window to your mother’s seaside hometown—your new home. there was no need for your mom to nudge you awake since you weren’t able to sleep for the entirety you were on the plane, the nerves were eating at you.

you never thought you’d be back here, never thought that you’d ever say goodbye to your own hometown—which was also your late father’s—but here you were.

when your mom told you that you’d be moving here permanently you didn’t know how to feel. one one hand, you understood your mom’s decision. it was just you and her out there miles away from your family and everything must’ve reminded her of your father. it reminded you of him too. on the other hand, you desperately wished she would change her mind.

it was enough seeing that one glimpse of jake nine months ago, but to see him over and over and over again? you didn’t think you could take it. he still texted you, even more now since, and you still haven’t answered. things between the two of you still remain unsaid.

but you also couldn’t help but count down the seconds until you laid your eyes on him again. it set your skin alight and you couldn’t help the small smile on your face and the giddiness you felt. was it selfish, yes, but after everything you think you’re finally ready to face him again.

to give your relationship another chance. to give him your heart again and not be fearful that he would break it, that he’d keep it guarded and safe. after all, he said he would wait for you.

and if he didn’t protect your heart, you’d pull back and it would be as if you never had anything to do with him again.

“y/n? are you listening?” you heard your mother’s voice call out. you snapped back to reality, blinking a couple of times to get your wits.

you were no longer on the plane. now you were lugging suitcases into your aunt’s house. your aunt was delighted to hear that you and your mom would be moving here. there was plenty of room in the house until the two of you got your own place.

“mhm,” you mumbled, though you definitely weren’t listening.

your mom sat the suitcase she was carrying in front of you and grabbed your shoulders. “is it that boy from last summer?” what was his name? jacob?”

“jake,” jungwon answered for you as he walked out the front door to grab more boxes.

your mom snapped her fingers. “jake! that’s it. listen, i know you had some problems moving here because of him, but use this as a way to put yourself out there more than last summer! there’s more wonderful people here than just jake.” she gave you a sympathetic smile and continued carrying stuff inside while you remained planted to the same spot in the driveway.

it wasn’t “just jake” that worried you. it was all of his friends and hana. you didn’t want another summer full of drama, especially if you and jake did start dating again.

getting all your boxes and suitcases into the house went quick and relatively easy. you decided on unpacking all of your things later, right now your mind was too clouded.

jake’s letter sat carefully in your anxious hands. you must’ve read it a million times over now and still you could barely wrap your head around it.

“two people who are meant to be will always find a way back to each other. and we are meant to be. no matter how long it takes, i’ll wait for you.”

it was now or never. you grabbed your phone and opened your messages up to your conversation with jake. his last message was from this morning, hoping that you had a good day today. he must not know that you’re back and for good. with a shaky sigh, you let your fingers move across the keyboard.

you: meet me at our spot.

⟢ READ HERE!

taglist 1﹙ OPEN! ﹚⸝⸝⸝ click here for series taglist! 🏷️ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @yeonjunsfox @nxzz-skz @rapmonie2047 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @aaa-sia @jeonghaniehaee @todorokiskitten @onlyhyunjin @un06 @nenesz @branchrkive @dreamiestay @lilyuwon @ghstzzn @kaykay11sworld @kirinaa08 @cherlv @zl-world @cloud-lyy @sunpov @samouryed @immelissaaa @y4wnjunz @who-tf-soddhi @minaateez @jajenoric @lilactangerine @chaconadine @americanojake @in-somnias-world @bobaikeu @cupidscourt @inkigayocamman @nctsshoes2 @helenngxz @jakeswifez @usnve @tasnim10 @deobitifull @won4me @zeeloveshee

send an ask or reply to this post if you want to be tagged when finished! minors and ageless/blank blogs will not be tagged. please have a visible age. my permanent taglist will already be tagged!

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , wips , taglist ] all feedback and asks on suggestions are welcome! ♡

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[cl6teen]

all i want is you ❀ cl16

in which charles thinks he can stay just friends with you after a breakup (spoiler alert: he cant)

read part two here.

contains: social media au, ex!charles leclerc x fem!reader, angsty charles and yn living her best life, mentions of charles’s new girlfriend, charles is a confusing man

note: something small just to feed the kids yk, pls don’t read into the twt dates i was too lazy to change them

📍south of france

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, lilymhe, and 100,675 others

yourusername this travel thing is kind of fun 🇫🇷

tagged kikagomes

view all 1237 comments

lilymhe my wifey is so pretty

alexalbon okay then just date atp

yourusername wdym? we already are

alexalbon why do i put up with this

lilymhe because you love us duh

pierregasly no photo credits or tag? i’m (deeply) hurt

yourusername oh please you complained the whole time and then made me and kika take photos of you

pierregasly that is not a crime

kikagomes my stylish icon 🤍

yourusername te amo te amo

carlossainz55 coming to spain next i hope?

yourusername who knows 🤭

landonorris actually she’s coming to the uk with me next

carlossainz55 😢😢 yn you betray me

yourusername you know you’re my favourite carlos

landonorris ouch

charles_leclerc very pretty

yourusername thank you charlie

luvleclrc it’s so sweet that he still comments on her photos

user i miss them real bad

4ouryn are we getting any more travel vlogs soon?

yourinstagram im working on it! it’ll be out around this friday :)

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, landonorris, and 1,235,166 others

charles_leclerc good times at home

view all 7,455 comments

user charles leclerc the man that you are 😭😭

user seeing him with a baby is just what i needed on my tl

yourusername two cuties at sea!

charles_leclerc so you think i’m cute 🤔

yourusername only because of the baby in your hands

charles_leclerc you hurt my feelings y/n

user omg charles still flirting with yn is so crazy

user idk if it’s flirting per se, they’re just friends now

user they were so cute i still don’t get why they broke up

user charles broke up with her bc he wanted to focus on racing

carlossainz55 somebody wants to be a daddy

charles_leclerc don’t put words in my mouth mate 😅

user is this a joke ? 👀

pierregasly i see what he’s doing

charles_leclerc ??

landonorris he’s cooking

alexandrasaintmleux so handsome

liked by charles_leclerc

twitter

📍 lake como, italy

liked by alexalbon, kikagomes, carlossainz55, and 97,333 others

yourusername loving italia 🇮🇹

carlossainz55 next stop madrid?

yourusername we’ll see, won’t we

landonorris i better be invited

carlossainz55 you know your way here mate

user omg the ferrari flag

yourusername deep down everyone is a ferrari fan :)

user should we read into that

yourusername no lmao

lilymhe travelling with you is the best

yourusername what would i do without you

alexalbon everyday i wake up

user no charles like or comment :( i guess he really is dating that girl

user justice for yn literally

user they still follow each other tho but i feel so bad for both girls

kikagomes i have no clue how anyone could break up with you, like seriously

yourusername me too, but life is too short to worry about things like that babe

user 👀 charles shade??

user i think we should stop tying y/n’s identity to charles in general

liked by yourusername

carlossainz55 updated their story 2 hours ago. landonorris updated their story 1 hour ago.

📍madrid, spain

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, lilymhe, and 433,125 others

yourusername troublemakers in madrid

view all 5544 comments

landonorris who are those studs in the first photo

yourusername so humble !

alexalbon potential summer soft launch?

yourusername who knows

user ugh why is she always with those two, i swear she wants them so bad

yourusername ew no those two are my sons 🤱

pierregasly who’s the daddy 🤔

landonorris don’t say it like that yn 😭😭

carlossainz55 i’m older than you though, no?

yourusername no carlos it’s like, in spirit

user WHO IS THAT MAN???? is that carlos?? lando??

yourusername no! but he’s certainly someone 🤭

user that’s charles right?

user he’s in monaco right now, it couldn’t be him plus he’s got a gf

lilymhe okay mysterious girl

yourusername i love to keep people on their toes

lilymhe but seriously text me and tell me who that is

kikagomes girl me too

user shout out to yn for reuniting carlando!!

liked by yourusername

yourusername updated their story 5 mins ago

carlos’s phone 📞

charles

are you with y/n right now

i know you are

carlos

then why ask m8

yes i’m with her, why?

charles

is she mad at me

carlos

that’s a stupid question, but i don’t know man, she hasn’t brought you up

and lando and i aren’t going to

what’s the phrase?

poke the bear

actually, i shouldn’t compare her to that

but i would be mad if i were her

charles

who’s that man she posted the other day??

you’ve been with her during her entire spain trip yes? what does he look like, do you know him?

carlos

he is a good friend of mine yes

i somewhat set them up, things have been going good, they’re both here at our dinner

charles

aiii carlos! why would you set them up??

how could you do this to me??

carlos

did you forget that you broke with her? to focus on racing?

which would be fine if you didn’t get another girl just a month after?

i don’t even know how she could stay friends with you, but she asked me to find a guy for her

i am a good friend, so i found someone

if you’re jealous, you shouldn’t have broken up in the first place

charles

i’m not jealous at all carlos

carlos

then why are you stalking her account and asking me about a man she is seeing?

if you’re so concerned, text her yourself

charles

argh you’re no help

your phone 📞

charlie

hey

i miss you

a lot

[httpiastri]

this christmas – op81

ski slopes, mistletoes, and the guy you've been crushing on for years – what could be better?

genre: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers!au, smut (just one scene in the end, you can skip it if you want)

pairing: female leclerc!reader x oscar piastri

other characters: lando norris, charles leclerc, george russell & mundt, alex albon & lily muni he, pierre gasly & kika cerqueira gomes

warnings: mentions of alcohol, smut, not much more i think

word count: 13.8k (LMAO)

requested?: yes!!

author’s note: hello hello!! a lot to say about this one. first of all, thank you to @be-your-coffee-pot for this request, and i apologize for not getting to it earlier than now. for everyone’s knowledge, the request was sent in to me in august, so… yeah. i know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but i hope you like it anyway <3

second of all, i feel pretty happy about some of these scenes, but some… not so much. some of the fillers have parts that i really despite, but i don’t really have time to rewrite since christmas is like 2 days away lol. also, my description of the reader’s relationship to charles is not my best work, idk why he barely even appears, and i’m also not sure why logan isn’t in this...

third of all, my red divider things make my posts disappear from the tags, so i didn’t put any in this time. it looks bad, i know, but idk how to fix it. if anyone does, please let me know. :)

and lastly: i only proofread this whole thing once yesterday, but tumblr was being a bitch and i got so frustrated that i do not have the energy to proofread it again. so please, if you happen to find any spelling or grammar mistakes, i would be very thankful if you let me know. <3

hope you all enjoy !!

december 12th, 2:11pm

oscar has always loved winter.

it started in his childhood; the holiday films he'd seen as a child, the way it always seemed to magically snow right on christmas eve really started something in him. it hadn't been common for him to get snow back home in australia when he was younger but once he moved to the england, he got to experience it quite a lot. playing, fighting and just existing in the snow was like an unfilled childhood need that stayed with him until his older years.

he loved spending christmas at home with his family, but ever since he got to experience real christmases with snow, trees and cozy darkness, he craved it more than he craved lying on the beach in his swimming trunks.

so when he was asked to come along to the swiss alps for a vacation during the winter break, he packed his bags right away. he and lando just happened to book the same flight, and they both arrived at the airport around noon, getting into a cab to take them to the accommodation together.

when they arrive outside the cottage, oscar is in shock; it is enormous. he had imagined just a tiny, cute little house – not that he was sure how seven drivers and a couple of girlfriends would fit in a "tiny" house – but he was far from right.

him and lando are the second pair to arrive, just about an hour after alex and lily, who are the self-proclaimed 'hosts' as they took care of all of the booking and planning.

"we thought that one would be lando's room," alex starts, pointing down the hallway. "since it's far away from everyone else, and i'm sure we all would prefer to actually get some sleep during the night time."

"oh, shut it..." lando mumbles, shoving his friend on his shoulder.

"this one can be yours, oscar," lily says, moving in the opposite direction and gesturing to another room. then, she points at the one right next to it. "and this one has two beds, so it's for charles and his sister."

oscar's ears perk up. "y/n is going to be here?" he speaks almost took quickly, making the other three turn to look at him.

"oh, i thought you knew..." lily has an apologetic look on her face.

"i must've forgotten," oscar answers, though he's completely sure no one told him about it. there's no way he would forget you. "don't worry, it's cool."

the hosts continue to move down the hallway, and the mclaren boys are just about to follow along when lando elbows oscar's side playfully. "it's cool?"

oscar raises an eyebrow, trying to keep calm. "what?"

"the youngest leclerc coming along?" a grin takes up lando's entire face. "it's just cool? is she cool, or-"

"goodbye, lando." oscar shakes his head, darting towards alex and lily again. he takes a few deep breaths, hoping the blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks isn't too obvious.

unfortunately, lando didn't need to see the blush to know. he has caught his teammate staring at you too many times over the season, and he is fully aware of the way oscar always is suddenly interested in the conversation whenever you're the topic of discussion.

lando knows everything. and this christmas, he's going to be the best wingman the world has ever seen.

��‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 12:53am

it's past midnight when you and charles arrive. your flight had been delayed, and then the gps had stopped working all of a sudden. and then, charles just refused to drive any faster than 30 km/h, saying it was too dangerous. as if he didn't drive cars in ten times that speed without even flinching.

you assume the whole house is sleeping already, so you and charles both sneak in as quietly as you can. someone – lily, assumably – has left you a note on the front door, guiding you to your shared room. it all goes smoothly – until charles trips over the doorframe, dropping his bag onto the floor as he tries not to fall down. the sound rattles through the hallway and you flinch, stopping in your tracks as you hope no one's woken up. but just a second later, the door opposite yours opens and a head sticks out.

oscar.

your heart softens and your shoulders relax when your gaze meets his. your soft smile is mirrored on his face, the sleepiness evident in his droopy eyes and the way strands of his bedhead point in every direction.

he looks like he's just about to say something when charles speaks up. "sorry, man! were you asleep?"

he walks up to the australian, giving him a firm handshake and a pat on the back. oscar shakes his head. "i was up reading," his huskey accent is like music to your ears. "i thought i heard some rustling out here, and then..." he nods his head toward the suitcase on the floor.

your brother laughs as he steps back, walking into the room with the "leclerc" sign. "well, i'll let you get back to that then," he says, picking up the bag from the floor and looking back one last time. "good night."

and then, you were just two.

you and oscar stand still for a moment, just watching each other. then, he opens up his arms, welcoming you into his embrace. you step forward and drape your arms around his shoulders as his wrap around your waist, and you let out a content sigh. he's warm, comfortable, and the way he squeezes your body has your mind spinning.

"it's been a while," he says when you part from the hug, a soft grin playing on his lips.

"like a month," you chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest.

"a month has never felt this long before."

you're not sure when your crush on him started forming.

as someone who's always been interested in racing, even in the series your brother isn't in, you've kept up with most results and championships – including oscar's seasons in f2 and f3. after seeing oscar, the unstoppable rookie who completely crushed his season in f3, you made sure to keep an eye at him in f2 the following year. and it's easy to say that you liked what you saw. especially in jeddah.

you'd meet him occasionally around the paddock the following year, just giving him a sweet smile and a quick greeting as if it was no big deal. but you always found yourself squealing on the inside and taking deep breaths to stay calm whenever you made eye contact with him.

then came 2023 and his debut in f1. yet again, he exceeded everyone's expectations, performing better than most drivers who'd been on the grid for years. with his permanent role on the grid, he was around more – and so were you. it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to bump into each other, around the paddock or during media days or in afterparties, and now you tried not to shy away.

talking to oscar was always simple. he was easygoing, it all seemed effortless, and you felt more relaxed. before you knew it, you could chat about racing strategies and tyre management for twenty minutes before a member of the mclaren staff interrupted you, rushing oscar away somewhere. you got to know each other slowly throughout the season, though never really going further than some friendly conversations, but you felt happy knowing that you'd taken the first step towards getting closer to him.

"so..." he starts. "you've been good?"

you nod. "yeah, a lot of studying but it's been alright. you?"

"yeah."

and there it is again, that slightly awkward silence. it's natural, you haven't seen each other since that night in abu dhabi and you're both a little unsure of where you stand after it. the tension is so thick that you could cut through it with a knife, and you kind of want to escape the whole situation. but then he speaks up.

"hey, i just wanted to-"

he's interrupted by the call of your name, and when you turn around, charles is leaning against the doorframe, eyes hazy. "are you going to sleep tonight or what?" he asks, dragging a hand through his already messy hair.

you feel a weight lift off your shoulders – and at the same time, your stomach tightens in disappointment. you nod at your brother, looking back at oscar to give him a wave and a "sleep well", before joining charles in your shared room.

oscar stands still in the corridor for a moment, before sighing and slapping himself in his mind for being so awkward and messing up this opportunity. but on the other side of the door, you stand still too as you watch your brother jump onto his bed, taking a deep breath to clear your mind.

you're just thankful the room is so dark that he can't see your ever-reddening cheeks.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 10:24am

despite the never-ending pitter-patter of your heart as you went to bed last night, you could fall asleep quite quickly, seeing as you were utterly exhausted from traveling. breakfast this morning feels like you and charles have just been reunited with your childhood friends after being kidnapped for years; not like you had just gone a few weeks without seeing each other. everyone runs around hugging, chatting about how much they've missed each other and how great this trip will be.

"did you get new highlights?" kika asks you, sliding into the seat next to you by the long table as you stuff a piece of bread into your mouth. the room is a combination of a kitchen and a dining hall, with a big cooking area and a glass wall giving the dining area a beautiful view of the mountains outside. in the middle stands a long table with enough seats for all of you, filled with fresh pastries and other breakfast goods to celebrate the first day of the trip. "or is it just the light?"

"just the light," you answer, shooting her a smile as you pick up your cup of coffee.

"oh my god, i almost forgot to ask you," lily starts and places her elbows on the table, her face resting in her hands. "what happened to that guy from raya you were talking to? did you end up going out?"

oscar is sitting a few seats down the table, pretending to be immersed in a conversation with some of the other drivers about the last few races of the season, while actually just doing his best to listen in on the conversation you're having. when he hears alex's girlfriend mention raya, his ears perk up and his breath gets caught in his throat. a million thoughts instantly crash into his mind.

she's seeing someone? how could i not know this? she's on raya? is she actively looking for a partner? who is this guy they're talking about?

he coughs and tries to act normal, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling passing through his body. he soon hears the sweet sound of your wholehearted laughter, and he almost smiles instinctively at it, before he can remind himself that lando's story about las vegas isn't exactly a smiley matter. "you're not going to believe this, i have the best story," you say in-between fits of giggles. "i met up with him for some drinks, and guess what he said? that he has a foot fetish and has dreamed about me caressing his face with my feet." all of the girls squeal and explode with laughter, making some of the boys flinch and look over to see what all the commotion is about. "so, safe to say, we never met up again. and i haven't wanted to go out with anyone else from there, either. i have a feeling they're all just creeps."

"hey, don't lose hope!" kika says while elbowing your side, but her actions are too soft, forcing you to fold over as an uncomfortable feeling spreads through your body. however, a burst of laughter spills past your lips. kika immediately holds her arm back, laughing along. "crap, i'm sorry! i totally forgot how ticklish you are."

you shake your head, your hand landing on her shoulder. "no worries," you tell her. "but, i haven't lost hope. i just don't think my soulmate is lurking around on raya with the foot fetishists."

oscar feels his shoulders relax again, feeling alright with focusing back on the boys' conversation now that he knows you in fact aren't seeing anyone.

maybe he has a shot, after all. as long as he doesn't talk too much about your feet.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 14th, 3:09pm

lando thinks he's so smart.

when he tells oscar to go ask if you'd like to have some of the gingerbread cookies he's bought, it's the third time today he has forced some kind of interaction between the two of you. he is sure that the more time that the two of you spend with each other, the more likely you will be to stop pining and just confess already.

but this time, oscar glares at the brit. "why don't you ask her yourself?"

"because you know what room she's in," lando hums back, reaching into the cupboard with some groceries. "i keep getting lost, the house is too big. plus, i'm busy." he motions to the half-empty grocery bag on the counter.

oscar lets out a sigh, but nods. "how can you memorize all tracks on the calendar, but you get lost in a cabin?" he asks rhetorically, whilst turning around and making his way down the hallway towards your room.

it's not that oscar doesn't enjoy 'accidentally' being forced into talking to you; it's the extreme lack of discretion lando is showing that makes him annoyed. it makes oscar seem like he's the one coming up with silly excuses to talk to you, and he doesn't like how it makes him look. he'd rather be seen as chill, laidback, someone who doesn't force things. he doesn't want you to catch on too early and reject him.

your voice echoes a 'come in' when he knocks on the door to your bedroom, and he pushes the door open just a little to reveal you sitting on the bed, a thick blanket wrapped over your shoulders. a grin spreads across your lips when you make eye contact with him. "hi," you say, placing the book you were reading on the bedside table.

"hey," he answers, stepping inside the room. "i... lando bought some gingerbread cookies, and we were going to make some hot chocolate, and..." his voice trails off as his eyes wander down your body, taking in the christmas sweater you're wearing and the fuzzy socks covering your feet. he smiles absentmindedly at the sight, loving how cozy you seem, and wishing he was sitting right there with you, sharing the blanket.

you nod, understanding him despite his lack of words. "i'll be right there."

oscar gives you a thumbs up – one he then facepalms himself for when he's left your room – before moving towards the kitchen again. but when he walks into it, he sees something hanging from a lamp. he stops in his tracks. "no way..."

festive cookies aren't the only thing lando bought when he went to the local supermarket. he also got the ultimate tool for securing his master plan – a mistletoe.

he doesn't know how, but he's planning to make sure you and oscar meet underneath it at least once before the holidays are over. there's no way you'll both be able to avoid it all week.

of course, lando isn't the only one rooting for the two of you. most of the other drivers know too – how can they not notice the glances you share and the way you light up when someone mentions the other in a conversation? – and most of them are in on his plans. charles is probably the only one in the house who's still oblivious to your and oscar's pining, and lando thinks that he might interfere with the matchmaking if he figures something out, so the brit keeps quiet.

oscar wants to pull the mistletoe down, rip it apart and throw it in the trash, but he refrains. something inside him tells him this might actually work out in his favor – and he decides to trust his gut this time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 15th, 2:01am

sleeping can be tricky, especially when your brother is snoring loudly in a bed just a few meters away from you.

who even decided to put him and you in the same room?

when you've been tossing and turning to no avail for about an hour, you decide it's time to do something, anything, to hopefully get a little tired again. a glass of warm milk never hurt anyone, did it?

you make your way to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of milk and put it in the microwave, before turning to look through the windows.

the view of the mountains is breathtaking. there is an untouched, thick layer of snow covering the area, with new flakes still falling. the sun set long ago, but the snow makes it all seem light. the lake below you is just barely visible by now, almost completely coated in snow.

it's completely serene, and you find yourself getting lost in the scenery. however, you're shaken out of your trance when you hear steps behind you. when you turn around, your eyes find someone standing just a few meters away, barely visible in the dark.

you jump in your place and clutch your chest in shock, not expecting anyone else to be up at this hour. when the person steps into the light of the little kitchen lap you had turned on, you relax instantly. "holy shit, oscar," you breathe. "you nearly scared me to death."

"i'm sorry," the australian chuckles. "i didn't know how to approach you without scaring you..."

"what even are you doing up?" you question, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter.

"i was just reading in my bed when i heard your door opening, and then footsteps, so..." he trails off when his eyes wander out towards the living room, seemingly just as taken by the sight as you were just moments ago. "i wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"well, everything is okay, so..."

there's some kind of awkwardness hanging in the air. it's not only because of the obvious uncertainty of what to say or do in this situation; it has more to do with the fact that this isn't the first time that the two of you have found yourselves this close with this much tension, all alone at night. sure, it's a lot like the night of your arrival here, but another memory springs to your mind, too.

just under a month ago, following the after-party in abu dhabi, oscar had accompanied you back to the hotel when you started getting too tipsy to keep yourself up on the dance floor. your brother had been nowhere in sight, so oscar took it upon himself to help you out, draping an arm across your waist before walking you all the way to your hotel room. and when you'd arrived in the dimly lit corridor, you'd turned up towards him to thank him, accidentally brushing your nose against his as you did. both of you had broken out in giggles, neither especially sober, but you stayed close – and when the laughter settled, you just watched each other. when his gaze had flickered between your eyes and lips, your breath hitched in your throat, the anticipation growing stronger. you had leaned in even closer, your eyes fluttering closed-

but just as your lips were about to brush his, you had been interrupted. a door a few meters away had opened and the two of you jumped apart, watching as your brother stepped out and exclaimed that he had been wondering where you ended up. oscar had wished you both a good night before hurrying off, the embarrassment of almost getting caught by his friend being too much for him to handle.

you just hoped oscar had been too drunk to remember it, because otherwise, things were bound to get quite awkward. you didn't want him to act differently around you just because you have feelings for him.

thankfully, he hasn't said or done anything to make you think he does remember it.

as you're thinking back to that night in abu dhabi, you nearly get your second heart attack when the microwave goes off with a loud beep. you scramble to turn it off and take out your milk, almost burning yourself on the hot glass in the meantime.

oscar watches you with an amused grin before he forces his gaze off you, eyes wandering over to the windows again. "quite the view, huh?"

you look over your shoulder at the blanketed mountains. "yeah, it's breathtaking," you reply, before growing quiet.

he pauses for a moment, too. "there's something magical about this place. makes everything seem simpler, quieter..."

you nod. "yeah, it does."

something about the moment makes you realize that maybe, just maybe, the awkwardness between you and oscar isn't as insurmountable as you once thought it would be. the shared quietude is comfortable, and you feel at ease. he hasn't brought up abu dhabi – he probably won't, you feel – and maybe you could both just put it behind you and focus on enjoying your trip.

when you eventually get back in your bed, it's with the same kind of pitter-patter of your heart as when you and charles arrived in the cabin a few days ago. needless to say, the glass of warm milk probably isn't going to help.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 16th, 9:02pm

the mistletoe has moved.

when you first noticed it the other day, it was hanging from a kitchen lamp. and now, it's in the doorframe leading into the living room.

you're planning on avoiding it at all costs, not wanting to slip up and accidentally get under it with the wrong person. or the right one, for that matter. the awkwardness of kissing your crush in front of friends and family would be too much to handle.

some others seem to have the exact opposite attitude towards the decoration, though. kika and pierre can be found by it about ten times per day, and alex and lily have no issues sharing a few kisses whenever they "accidentally" pass it.

no matter what, lando has a mischievous grin whenever anyone mentions it, or even walks near it.

his grin stays on when he decides to let himself be in charge of the outing you all have to the christmas tree farm nearby. the farm is too big and would take too long if everyone was going to look at every tree, so lando divides everyone into groups of two based on who they're standing next to as you walk past the gates.

what a coincidence that you're standing right next to oscar when he says this.

lando ushers the two of you off to the rows with quite tall, pre-decorated trees. "so," oscar starts as you both stop in front of a tree with white lights and ornaments hung all over it. "what do you think about this one?"

"well, it's lovely," you say, scanning it thoroughly. "but isn't the true test how well it fits into the living room?"

he nods, despite his confusion, and he shoots a curious glance your way. "and how do we determine that?"

with a playful grin, you hold up an imaginary measuring tape, pretending to size up the tree with a critical eye. "i'm trying to figure out if it fits this corner best, or..."

he follows your gaze, realizing the tease in your words. "i think maybe it's better in the other corner," he hums and points to the side as you turn a little.

"exactly."

lando never inserted himself into a group; he's too focused on watching the two of you share a lighthearted laugh at the situation. though his mistletoe back in the cabin might still have a trick or two up its metaphorical sleeve, he is already proud of his matchmaking antics.

and, he is sure you'll both crack. it is just a matter of time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 17th, 1:43pm

"i never thought skiing would be this hard," you groan as you step into a cottage, the warmth enveloping you and beginning to defrost you instantly.

oscar laughs at the exasperated tone in your voice. "this was just the kids' slope, you do remember that, right?" you stick your tongue out at him, slumping down on a bench by a table. "you just wait before you do some real skiing..."

you had never skied before today. oscar had, but he said it was too long ago and that he needed an easy start. plus, he couldn't just leave you all alone in the children's slope without an instructor.

you'd fallen over at least five times, despite the fact that the slope was practically flat. thankfully, oscar promised to buy you some hot chocolate in a cottage café to cheer you up.

when he comes back from the cashier carrying two big, steaming cups of chocolate, you've regained most of the feeling in your fingers again. the hot piece of ceramic almost burns your skin, but you think it's worth it; you need the sugar and you need it now.

"you know what the worst thing is?" you ask, bringing the cup up to your face with both hands. you start sipping on the drink and oscar glances at you with a questioning look as he slips down next to you on the bench. "carrying those goddamn skis with me. not only does it suck to actually ski, but dragging them all the way from the rental shop…"

"if it's that much of a bother, i can carry them for you."

"and carry your own too?" you scoff, watching him flinch as he burns his tongue on the drink. "you're not that strong."

he lets out a groan. "you're not even strong enough to carry your own, so you shouldn't say anything."

"i can carry them!" you protest, shooting him a glare. "i just don't want to. two very different things."

you both go silent momentarily, too busy focusing on how good it feels to no longer be frozen to the marrow. the cabin is filled with people; kids running in circles around the tables, soon to be tired again after the initial sugar shock from their afternoon snack; a group of older ladies gossiping and enjoying getting some rest just like you; and some young adults in the far corner are already busy dancing on the tables with their after-ski drinks in their hands.

"you know what? i changed my mind," you tell him, scooting away from him a little and placing your skiing boot on the bench. "these things. they're the worst."

you start to unclasp the boot, sighing in relief as you finally tug the shoe off your foot, throwing it onto the floor. you've only worn it for about an hour, but you can already feel the bruises beginning to form. you're just about to reach down to undo the other boot, too, when oscar reaches towards your foot.

your eyebrows shoot up as he takes it in his hands, pulling the foot into his lap. and then, his fingers begin to wander up and down your foot and ankle, giving you soft squeezes and pressing down on the spaces where he thinks the boot has squeezed you the most. you hold back a pleasured sound, seeing as it would sound way too inappropriate right now, but oscar subconsciously takes note of how you're getting flushed because he soon looks up at your face.

"is this okay?"

you swallow down the lump in your throat, nodding quickly. "y-yeah… just don't tickle me..."

when did things get so intimate? mere minutes ago, you couldn't think about anything other than how you were so cold your nose was going to fall off. but now, you can't stop your eyes from following his long, sleek fingers, thinking about how good they feel and imagining how good they would feel somewhere else-

"give me your other foot."

you're thankful that he interrupts your train of thought before your mind wanders too far.

compose yourself, woman.

"don't tell me you have a foot fetish, too," you tease, turning around so that you can place your other foot on the bench too. he lets out a hearty laugh, swiftly undoing your other boot before letting it drop to the ground.

"oh, shut it. do you want a massage or not?"

you shoot him pout, giving his shoulder a thankful pat before taking your cup in your hands again. you focus on the drink, watching how the steam rises and the marshmallows melt. you can't look over at him anymore, scared of your cheeks growing too red and your face giving away your feelings.

the bell by the door rings behind you, and you look towards it out of habit. and in comes alex, george, lily and carmen, laughing and chatting loudly about the black slope they just went down. oscar doesn't seem to notice, but you hastily pull your feet from his lap, sitting down properly – unfortunately making eye contact with alex as you do. he leans forward to lily, whispering something in her ear, and you watch as her eyes dart to you and a smirk grows on her lips.

shit.

the clicking of her boots against the stone floor meets your ears and oscar turns his head at the sound, suddenly realizing why you withdrew from him. "hey there," lily cheers, each of her hands landing your and oscar's shoulders. "what have you been up to?"

your eyes meet his briefly, before looking back up at lily. "just... drinking some chocolate..."

"oh, no skiing?"

"she crashed too much, i couldn't keep her out there and let her continue to embarrass me all day," oscar tells her and you shove his shoulder.

"do you mind if we join you guys?" george asks, coming around the table and not even giving you a second to think about it before he sets two cups of chocolate down on the table. the grin he's wearing only tells you one thing: alex told him already. carmen's lips show off a matching set.

"not at all..."

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 10:32am

you huff as you slump down on the living room couch, your mood not even getting brought up by watching the newly installed christmas tree in front of you. you hadn't even been out skiing that much yesterday, yet every single inch of your body aches. not only do you have big, blue bruises on both of your hips due to the many times you've fallen onto the hardly packed snow, but every muscle screams with pain as you drape a blanket over your body. needless to say, you decided to stay at home today instead of heading out with the others for another round.

"are you sure you don't wanna come along?" kika asks as she enters the room, her pretty pink sunglasses perched at the top of her nose. the pout on her lips almost makes you doubt staying in, but when you move to sit up more straight again, you know you've made the right decision.

you nod, giving her a weak smile. "yeah, sorry."

"but oscar promised to come along?"

you freeze, your cheeks growing red as you hear her words.

did she know? about your feelings for him? did the others already tell her about the incident in the cottage yesterday? did they really interpret the situation that way?

"w-what?"

"oh," she chuckles at your reaction. "i just meant that he was so bad yesterday, so i thought that seeing him fall over a couple of times would be worth the pain."

"we're gonna trick him into going down a black slope with us," says pierre who walks into the room, arms lacing around his girlfriend from behind. "we'll send some clips."

you let out a breath of relief as they leave the room. maybe they don't know. maybe your secret will stay secret for a little longer.

the group leaves in pairs or trios and you tell them all goodbye from your place underneath the many blankets. everyone has left by now except for oscar, which confounds you since the others seemed to have so many plans for him. your confusion only grows when he steps into the living room without any skiing gear on, just wearing an oversized, cozy hoodie and a pair of sweats.

"why aren't you out with the others?" you question, your eyebrows raised at him.

"well," he sighs, flopping down next to you on the couch. "i can't find my helmet." when you shoot him a doubting look, he raises his hands defensively. "what?"

"i don't believe it."

"you don't have to, but it's the truth."

"how do you even lose a helmet? it's so big?" you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "i assumed you were used to keeping track of where your helmet is since if you don't have your helmet with you for races, then you can't race."

"i swear i put it on the drawer by the front door like half an hour ago. i don't understand what could've happened."

you have to give it to him; he is really doing his best to cover this up. you find it pretty obvious that he just doesn't want to ski because of what the others were planning to do to him. but maybe if kika and pierre hadn't spilled their plans already, you would've believed him.

"but hey," he says, bringing you out of your thoughts. "don't feel obligated to include me in whatever you were going to do here now that you finally have the house to yourself." he pushes himself off the couch, standing up and shooting you one last smile before turning to walk away. "i'll let you have some peace."

he takes a couple of steps towards the bedrooms, but then you get the idea. "oscar." he stops in his tracks, throwing a glance back at you. "i was planning on doing some baking, and…" you shuffle slightly in your seat. "it wouldn't hurt to have an extra helping hand."

"i'm a horrible baker, though."

"and i'm the best baker ever, so i guess we cancel each other out." you stand up from your seat, keeping the blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you make your way toward the kitchen. "let's go make some mediocre cookies!"

oscar shakes his head, grinning to himself as he follows behind you. this was definitely not what he had planned, but he sure is liking the way it's going.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 8:14pm

oscar had not been kidding when he said he sucked at baking.

he put in twice the needed amount of flour, and only half of the sugar. and as if that wasn't enough, of course the mistletoe had moved to the kitchen, making the whole situation quite uncomfortable as you both had to take strange routes while navigating through the kitchen to avoid it. not even your baking skills could save the cookies.

as an apology, oscar promised to buy some fancy gingerbread cookies tonight at the christmas market you'd all planned to go to in a nearby city. he was strongly set on going through with his promise, despite how many times you told him that it was alright and that they wouldn't taste as good as homemade ones anyway.

you've all been at the market for almost two hours now, but it feels like you've only gone about ten meters. your friends, mainly lando, george and alex, are stopping at every single shop and stand, making sure to check out all products and buying at least one thing in every store, no matter how long the line to the cash register is.

"lando-" you groan at the sight of the brit running into yet another store; this time, a shop filled with christmassy outfits for dogs. "he doesn't even have a pet…"

kika is grinning next to you, shaking her head. "he told me earlier today that he wanted to buy a present for roscoe if he got the chance," she says as most of the group joins lando. "makes more sense than when he bought that screwdriver thirty minutes ago just because it was green."

"the power of 'christmas colors', apparently," you hear oscar's voice from behind you, and you turn back to meet his eyes.

"well, i'm not surprised. just disappointed. and cold, and tired of standing still."

oscar points his head to the side, up the street. "i think i saw a stand a little further up that sells cookies, maybe they have some gingerbread ones."

you nod, a small smile entering your lips. "let's go check it out, then. kika, do you wanna come-"

you're cut off by the sound of pierre calling for his girlfriend, holding up a reindeer costume and blabbering on about how it would be perfect for her cousin's dog. "sorry guys," kika says before strutting off to her boyfriend.

you both shrug before walking down the street towards the stand oscar had spotted. the sugary scent of cookies meets your nose from far away, and your mouth waters at the mere thought of the sweets. when you arrive, a sweet old lady sitting behind the stand greets you and tells you all about the different cookies she's baked. gingerbread, sugar cookies with little candy canes, snowball cookies, and various traditional swiss cookies.

"would you like to have a taste, dears?" the lady asks, pointing her hand to a plate with samples. you and oscar take a gingerbread cookie each, popping it into your mouths.

"oh yeah, this is lovely," he says, looking like he's savoring every crumb.

"much better than ours," you answer, nudging his shoulder with yours. he gasps and places a hand on his chest, feigning offense.

you turn your attention back to the lady and telling her you'd love to buy a little box of cookies from her. oscar pays for them and she wraps the box in some pretty gift paper, handing it to you before you continue making your way down the street. the house walls and all trees are wrapped in christmas lights, some blinking in random colors and some with a soft glow of an elegant white. the streets are filled with people wearing santa hats, ugly christmas sweaters, and scarves so big half of their faces are covered. there's not a single frown in sight, the happiness and love so obvious you can almost see little hearts flowing above everyone's heads.

you glance into a couple of different stores as you stroll, stopping occasionally to check something out. when you reach a stand with different kinds of jewelry, something catches your eye: a golden necklace with a heart-shaped charm hanging from it. you carefully pick it up, your heart fluttering in your chest as you inspect it.

and when you look up at oscar from the necklace in your hands, he feels like the air is stolen from his lungs. your eyes are twinkling with happiness, outshining all lights in the entire christmas market. the excited smile on your lips is contagious, and suddenly, it's like the world around you has stopped and everyone else has disappeared. you're both just grinning at each other like two lovestruck fools, nothing in either of your minds other than the person in front of you. the sight of your rosy cheeks from the cold makes the butterflies in his stomach multiply by the second.

wow, he really is totally and fully whipped.

"really pretty," he finally gets out, unsure if he's talking about the necklace or the woman standing before him.

"pretty? it's gorgeous," you answer, eyes flickering back to the jewelry in your hand. "i adore it. how much is it?"

just as the guy in the booth is about to answer, you feel someone grab your free hand. "come on guys, they're closing down soon and we still have a bunch of shops to visit!" kika is pulling you along so fast you barely have time to put the necklace down.

lily notices the disappointment on your face and pats your shoulder. "we'll come back here sometime before christmas, don't worry."

lando shows you the christmas tree costume he bought as you wander down the market again, but oscar suddenly stops. "guys, i forgot my phone back at the cookie stand. keep walking, i'll catch up with you," he says, pointing behind him with his thumb and disappearing before anyone can say anything.

it's a good excuse, but you clearly see the outline of his phone in his back pocket as he hurries down the street.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 19th, 9:22pm

the days roll on with a gentle rhythm of shared glances and fleeting touches between you and oscar. unbeknownst to both of you, lando, ever the persistent wingman, continues his behind-the-scenes matchmaking efforts.

in some magical way, lando manages to get you and oscar paired up for pretty much anything. board game night? you and oscar just happen to get the exact role cards that make you teammates. time for some ornament decorating? you and oscar are the only ones who don't get a seat on the couch, having to sit on the floor together and share all your materials.

funnily enough, it never gets awkward between the two of you. even when you are left all alone, there is always something to talk about, some dumb thing lando has done that you can tease him about behind his back, or something you are curious about when it comes to his racing career so far. somehow, being with oscar started feeling comfortable, natural, unforced.

one specific night, alex comes up with the idea of playing card games, to which only a few of you are actually interested. some plan on going to bed early so they can hit the slopes first thing in the morning, while others just aren't in the mood. oscar said he would just finish wrapping some christmas presents and join you all later, and you catch yourself feeling disappointed that he's not on the couch next to you, helping you win (or taunting you to make you lose). it surprises you how much you're drawn to him, how it feels like something is missing when he isn't around, when you didn't feel this way just a few days ago.

you try to shake the feeling off, but it's still lingering even as you start playing with your friends. eventually, you excuse yourself to get a glass of water from the kitchen to take your mind off things. but-

just as you round the corner going into the kitchen, your head crashes into something hard. you shriek as you stumble, hands coming up to grab the person in front of you as you lose your balance, but a pair of hands wrap around your back, holding you up. when you look up, you're met with oscar's big brown eyes blinking down at you. "you okay there?"

you let out a relieved breath, nodding at him. "yeah, thanks to you. what were you doing coming around the corner that fast, though?"

he chuckles. "what were you doing not looking where you're going?"

"touché."

your hands are still holding on to the front of his hoodie, and you're about to let go of him and walk away when you notice something in the upper periphery of your vision. something is hanging above you. but, it can't be-

of course it is.

the mistletoe.

oscar looks up just as you do, jaw dropping slightly. "oh..."

"indeed..."

you both keep your vision pointed up, as if the mistletoe would disappear if you just keep on staring at it. oscar's hands slowly begin to slide off your back, and he's hoping you'll both just pretend like none of this ever happened. it would be the least awkward thing to do.

"maybe-" his breath hitches in his throat when you speak up. his gaze is on you again, but you're still looking at the plant. "maybe we should do it. just... for the christmas spirit, you know. i love christmas."

you don't even know what you're blabbering on about. you're trying to improvise a reason to kiss your brother's colleague that makes at least a little sense, but you're completely lost. you realize how dumb you sound, and you expect to see him staring at you like you actually are insane when you look back at him.

but what you don't know is that he thinks it's the best idea ever. he is just as into it as you are, if not more. he doesn't look at you like you're crazy; he's just dumbfounded, blinking at you as he tries to understand what's happening. did the girl he likes really just say they should kiss? because she loves christmas?

oscar gulps, but something in him gives him the courage to nod. "i mean," he starts, voice weak. "what's the harm? it's just... tradition."

"right. yeah, that's exactly what i was thinking."

the tension is higher than ever as your faces are already just inches apart. you aren't sure who should take the initiative and lean in, but before you can overthink it, you're both doing it subconsciously. your noses brush against each other briefly and a little giggle escapes past your lips, and this whole situation feels very familiar. this time, oscar can't hold back anymore, so he closes the gap and presses his mouth to yours.

the kiss is quick, not much longer than a peck, but something changes inside you. when you didn't know what it felt like to kiss oscar, you didn't think too much about it. but now that you have felt his lips on yours, you crave it.

he seems to feel the same way, because when you kiss him again, he's pressing against you instantly. your hands move from his chest to his shoulders as your lips move in sync, tilting your head to get a better angle. oscar's touch travels up and down your sides, fingers grazing the bare skin of your stomach when your sweater lifts.

oscar takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and you let out a hum, making him grin into the kiss. his tongue swipes between your lips before slipping into your mouth, exploring it for the first, but hopefully not last, time. you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, already growing hot as his hands move down to your butt.

kissing oscar is so easy, so comfortable. it's like you've done it so many times before, like it's what you were made to do.

you're so relaxed and so focused on the kiss that you don't even hear lando's footsteps right next to you, nor his snicker from a few meters away as he picks up his phone to snap a couple of pictures. you don't even hear him strutting away to the living room, nor his loud proclamation to the group: mission complete.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 8:35am

the rest of the days leading up to christmas consist of a lot of sneaking around.

the days are filled with secretive kisses when you're sure no one is watching, fleeting pecks or longer liplocks, hurriedly parting and acting like nothing happened when you hear approaching footsteps. they're filled with soft brushes as you pass each other in hallways, little squeezes of your waist or his arm when someone is around, conveying more than anyone could guess. and they're filled with giant, knowing smiles matching on your lips, with longing gazes and sly winks across the dinner table.

now, his hand is warm in yours despite the freezing temperatures of the air. when you said you forgot your mittens in the cabin, oscar had just smiled, taking off one of his own to give it to you. and to heat your other hand, he intertwined his fingers with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand as you walked.

you'd slipped out of the house before anyone else had woken up, wishing for a peaceful moment for yourselves. the two of you haven't really had time to properly talk ever since your moment under the mistletoe, and even though it wasn't outspoken, you both knew there were things to be discussed.

you're halfway around the lake when he finally touches on the subject. "so..." he starts, nudging your shoulder with his. "you like me, huh?"

you snicker. "i have for quite some time now, actually."

his hand squeezes yours. "tell me about it."

and when he asks, you tell.

you tell him about seeing him all those years ago, thinking that he was just a pretty face, a good driver, and not much else. you tell him about getting to know him more and more in the last two years and realizing that shit, he's so much more than that. you tell him about the butterflies, about the sneaky glances, about falling for him.

and then, he tells you his side.

he tells you about knowing of you from your first appearances in the f1 paddock, the curiosity in him growing for every picture of you and charles he saw. he tells you about wanting to approach you but not knowing how, not wanting to come off too strong or clingy. he tells you about how nothing has ever been more disappointing to him than charles's timing back in abu dhabi. then, he tells you about how his fingers had secretly been crossed all trip, hoping that lando's attempts to pair the two of you up wouldn't fall through.

you share giggles and smiles as you tell your stories, and it all feels so natural even though it's so new. and you think to yourself that maybe, this won't be so hard to get used to.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 5:46pm

"how are things going with oscar?"

lily's voice makes your heart skip a beat. you had just walked into the kitchen to grab a gingerbread cookie, not expecting her to be doing the dishes this late in the evening – and especially not expecting her to ask you something like that. "what do you mean?" you ask back, trying to stay composed as you strut over to the cupboard, reaching into it for the box of cookies.

"are you going to be like... boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

the box slips out of your hands and crashes to the floor before you can catch it again. did you hear her correctly? your eyebrows shoot up and your mouth hangs open as you look at her again. she scoffs.

"oh please, the two of you aren't exactly sneaky," she says, looking back into the sink. "you know, lando took pictures of you under the mistletoe. and we all saw you coming back from your little trip to the lake earlier today."

"oh my god." you cover your face with your hands, letting out a groan. "oh my god. no way."

lily laughs, washing the last few plates under the tap before placing them on the side to drain. "don't worry, we were all in on it."

"and what does that mean?!"

"lando had a plan." of course he did. "we all agreed to help him out. except charles, he's still oblivious."

"what kind of plan?"

"well, just small things here and there, really." she wipes her hands on a towel before turning around and leaning against the counter. "hiding oscar's helmet so he'd have to stay here with you instead of skiing with us. walking really slowly in the market so you'd both get so tired of us that you'd stroll off alone. and the mistletoe, but that's obvious..."

as lily spills the details of lando's plan, you feel a mix of embarrassment and surprise, along with a hint of amusement. you're suddenly very aware of the collaboration that has taken place behind the scenes, and you take a deep breath as you slowly lower your hands from your face.

"so... lando really orchestrated all of this?" you exclaim, still trying to process the fact that your friends have been actively working to bring you and oscar closer together.

lily chuckles, nodding. "yes, and he's been loving every moment of it. we all figured you two needed a little push."

you shake your head in disbelief, a smile playing on your lips despite the initial shock. "what's the endgame here? is lando secretly a matchmaker or something?"

"he wishes," she says with a smirk. "i think he just enjoys playing cupid when he can." she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. "but hey, it worked out well, didn't it? you and oscar seem pretty cozy."

"yeah, i guess..." the mention of oscar brings a blush to your cheeks. "i just didn't expect to have a whole team of co-conspirators."

lily laughs, stepping forward to pat your shoulder. "it's all in good fun. besides, it's about time something happened between you two." you nod in agreement, smiling at her. "now, spill. how are you feeling about all of this? is he boyfriend material?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating your newfound dynamic with oscar. a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "yeah, maybe. we're figuring it out, i guess. it's all been... surprisingly nice."

she grins, satisfied with your response. "well, then, i'd say lando's plan was a success." she backs away, walking towards the kitchen exit. "just enjoy it, okay? and don't be too mad at us. we just wanted to see you both happy."

you nod and watch as she leaves, still processing the directed events that have led up to this moment. as you're left alone, you can't help but smile to yourself at the thought of everything that's happened – and everything that's yet to come.

suddenly, for the first time in your life, you feel thankful for something lando has done. you'll have to remember to thank him later.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 24th, 10:23pm

just a few hours ago, charles was challenged to a snowball fight with the rest of the twitch quartet. and how could he ever say no to them?

for you to fall asleep before he got back would just be stupid, because there's no way he will be able to keep quiet when he eventually he crashes into the room post-fight. so instead, you sit against the headboard of your bed, a thick blanket draped over your body and a good book in your hands as you enjoy the tranquility of the last few moments of christmas eve.

there's a soft knock on the door, one so low you could've just as well missed it. "come in," you call out, looking up from your book as the door creaks open. surprise paints your face as oscar enters the room, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of carrying out a secret mission.

in his hands, oscar holds a beautifully wrapped box, adorned with a crimson bow. "merry christmas."

"oscar, what are you up to?" you ask, laughter dancing in your eyes.

"giving you your present." he sits at your feet, holding out the present to you.

you place your book beside you on the bed, accepting the gift with a curious smile. you unwrap the present, and as you remove the lid of the box and your eyes are met with a necklace, your breath hitches in your throat.

the heart-shaped pendant is familiar – it's the exact necklace you'd eyed in the christmas market. you look up at oscar, a myriad of emotions playing on your face. "i didn't forget my phone," he admits, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. "i just really wanted to get it for you."

speechless, you delicately trace the edges of the pendant with your fingers. "oscar, i..."

"it's a christmas gift, but you can wear it whenever you want."

you hold the necklace up to him. "like now?"

he nods and takes it from you as you turn around, brushing away your hair so that he can secure the chain around your neck. when you turn back, you catch the glint of admiration in his eyes. "you look beautiful."

you hold the pendant between your thumb and pointer finger, a silent acknowledgment of the connection formed by the gift. "it's perfect, oscar. thank you." you tilt your head, smiling at him. "you're not getting your gift until tomorrow, though."

"just seeing you with this necklace is enough of a present for me. i don't need anything else."

‎‎ ‎‎‎

december 25th, 6:04pm

christmas day morning is for gift exchanges. you all sit around the tree in the living room, giving out presents and sharing the background stories behind the silly little things you've bought each other. you receive a ton of random objects that people had bought that day in the christmas market; objects they bought just to irritate you and oscar. now that you know, you find it quite funny – and seeing charles's confused face as you unwrapped a green screwdriver from lando is definitely one of your highlights of the day.

your present to oscar is, obviously, better planned than most other gifts. beneath the wrapper is a box titled "skiing survival kit" written in big, red letters. in it lies a pair of thick socks (with a note reading "to protect your feet from those horrible boots"), a bag of hot chocolate mix ("for moments when skiing feels too challenging; a little warmth to make everything better"), a bottle of peppermint-scented massaging oil ("you never know when you find yourself in need of a massage..."), and a handwritten letter about how you enjoyed your stay in the cottage much more than the actual skiing and a promise to stay in and warm his chair for him next time he's out "skiing".

then, midday rolls around. the chefs of the group, also known as the few people who don't burn everything they attempt to cook, take their time to make a good dinner. in the meantime, the rest of you prepare some games and competitions, including a trivia, a snow fort building competition, and a gingerbread house-decorating contest that ended in lando letting his competitiveness get the best of him. safe to say that no other gingerbread houses were still standing, other than lando's, meaning the brit won by default. his price: getting thrown in the snow in just his pyjamas.

and the evening? it's dedicated to a movie marathon, as per russell family traditions.

it has all been planned into the finest detail; the couch in the living room is decorated with blankets and pillows, nearly every bowl in the house is filled to the brim with snacks, and mattresses and pillows on the floor for those who don't fit on the couch. everyone was included of the vote of what movie you were going to see, though you had a feeling george had cheated when you were told the 'home alone' series won. especially since it's the one series he hasn't been able to stop talking about wanting to watch all trip.

you're settled on the edge of the couch, a blanket wrapped over your shoulders and your knees pulled up to your chest. you're laughing along with something kika has said from right next to you when you hear a beep from the kitchen, indicating that the last bag of popcorn was ready. you assumed lando would be getting up to fetch it, seeing as he was the one who insisted you needed one more bag, but when your eyes find him, he sits very contently and comfortably a few seats away. he looks back at you, eyebrows rising as you make eye contact.

"hey, you're the closest to the kitchen," he says, nodding his head in your direction. "go get them."

he isn't wrong, but he still makes no sense. "no way, norris."

he pouts. "please, be quick so we can start the movie already."

"you suck."

he sticks out his tongue at you but you've already walked off. when you return, a new bowl filled with popcorn in your arms, you aren't exactly surprised to see lando in the seat that used to be yours. you shoot him a glare, to which he answers, "i could barely see the tv from where i was sitting!"

"oh, but you think i'll be able to?" you scoff at the way he shrugs his shoulders, seemingly to say that it's now none of his business. and when you look at his old seat, you are even less surprised to see who's sitting right next to it.

oscar is looking up at you, confusion mixing into his features. he's been scrolling on his phone for the last few minutes and didn't notice when his teammate left him alone.

neither of you complain when you slip into lando's old spot, though. oscar immediately grabs the blanket in his lap and drapes it over you too. you shuffle closer to him as the movie turns on, the soft fabric of his pyjama pants brushing against yours. the bowl of popcorn is propped up on your lap, and when you reach into it to grab a handful, it touches something warm. you rip your eyes from the tv to see your hand brushing against oscar's. of course.

considering the other touches and kisses you've shared these last few days, it's not even a very intimate action. and yet, something about it leaves both of you giggling.

"so many clichés this trip, huh?" he says, eyes flickering between your hands and your face.

instead of answering, you grab his hand in yours. your fingers slip in between his easily, as they've done so many times these last few days, but you pull your hands underneath the blanket to keep them out of sight from everyone else.

it's a good movie, but it's easy for you to zone out when you feel oscar's hand squeeze yours. neither of you can really stay away from the other, inching closer as the movie progresses and stealing little cheek kisses when everyone is focused on the most exciting scenes. and when you start to grow a little tired, your head instinctively lands on his shoulder as you let out a little yawn. oscar desperately has to hold himself back from cooing at you, feeling so soft and prideful that you're leaning on him, and he settles for leaning his own head on you.

you both think you're being subtle, but everyone in the room understands what's going on. even charles, who has now been let in on what's happened between you and oscar after he walked in on lando telling alex about how cute the new couple in the house looked walking around the lake, can't take his eyes off the two of you. as your older brother, he feels like he should be doing something or saying something to protect you. he wonders what his role should be here – aren't brothers supposed to scare their sisters' boyfriends away?

but charles realizes that oscar isn't an enemy. in this moment, you look so peaceful, so content; like you've found the the long-lost puzzle piece to make you complete. how could he possibly interrupt that?

‎‎ ‎‎

december 25th, 11:28pm

charles is still fast asleep on the couch when you slip into oscar's room after the movie has ended, fingers intertwined and your laughter mixing as he pulls you along to his bed. his hands find your hips as he sits down on the edge of the bed, urging you to lower yourself onto his lap, and you happily oblige.

"look up," he says, and when you do, you're not surprised by what's hanging in the roof.

the mistletoe.

"oh," you start, looking back at him. last time you found yourself underneath the mistletoe with oscar, you had been more nervous than ever before. but this time, it isn't as scary. this time, you're able to shrug, a teasing grin forming on your lips. "i guess we should kiss, then. just for the christmas spirit, you know."

his lips are curved into a big smile. "oh, i do know." one of his hands comes up to tuck some hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek in his palm. "it's because you love christmas."

you can't hold back from giggling, and neither can he, both of you leaning in to seal your lips. your first encounter underneath the mistletoe was hesitant, but it feels like that was ages ago, in another lifetime. now, with his lips pressing against yours, it feels like it's all you've known.

he's so gentle with it, his kisses delicate and tender, and your heart flutters at the feeling. his hands land on your waist as your arms wrap around his neck, scooting in even closer. when your crotch brushes against him, he involuntarily lets out a moan into your mouth, and you stop for a moment to pull away. both your eyes and his are wide as you look at each other, and oscar doesn't know what to say. his mind is racing, not sure if you thought that was awkward or too soon or-

"that's so fucking hot," you say, and he finally exhales. you kiss him again, speaking against his lips. "wanna hear more."

he has no problems letting out more sounds when you keep up your actions, your hips rolling down on him rhythmically. his hands find the hem of your sweater and slip inside, instantly roaming your sides. his cold touch tickles, and when his fingers move along your waist, you can't help but giggle against his lips. he laughs along with you, but he only does it to match you. he's dumbfounded when you part from him and you grab his wrists to make him halt.

"you're too cold," you start, a bit breathless already. "it's-"

"are you really that ticklish?" he chuckles, fingers running up and down your sides again to test you, and his heart melts when you throw your head back, laughing. "oh come on, how am i supposed to do this if i can't touch you?"

"warm your fingers next time and we should be fine."

"next time, huh?" a combination of a smirk and a grin plays on his lips. "planning ahead?"

"well, it depends on how well you perform tonight." he sticks out his tongue at your taunting tone. "just take it off already, will you?"

oscar happily obliges, pulling the material off you before reaching for his own sweater, throwing them both onto the floor. his eyes stick to your chest, to the soft, red bed bra holding up your breasts, and he feels himself growing harder instantly, because this is so much better than he'd imagined. you can't exactly complain about what your eyes are met with, either; oscar's toned chest and his broad shoulders are basically calling out for you to come and press your lips to them. or sink your teeth in them. probably both.

he gives you a few quick kisses before his hands land on your hips and he flips you both around, laying you onto the covers. his lips meet the skin below your ear, and then travel down the side of your neck. he hears your breath hitch in your throat when he finds a spot you enjoy particularly much, making sure to memorize it for the future. and when his kisses trail even further down, they meet something hard and metallic. when he leans back, he realizes that you're wearing the necklace.

he didn't notice it until now, since he was too busy being mesmerized by your breasts earlier; but now, he can't take his eyes off it. the little heart charm rests just above your actual heart, and something about seeing it makes his heart flutter. the necklace he bought for you, the one that makes you think of him and only him. it's like you're already tagged as his.

"cute," he whispers to himself, placing a long kiss right on top of the heart. he can feel your real heart beating underneath his lips, fast but not really enough, and he can't wait to make you feel like it's pounding out of your chest.

he starts placing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, his hands finding the waistband of your sweatpants.

"you okay with me taking these off?" he asks, parting from your skin to watch you nod your head. he pulls the material down your body, smiling when your underwear comes into sight. they're not a pair of lacy lingerie or victoria's secret-lookalikes, but just a regular pair of panties in a deep green color with little candy canes. his eyes flicker between your bra and your panties. "green and red, huh?"

"well, what can i say?" you smile. "i love christmas." he giggles, and so do you, as he leaves your pants somewhere on the floor before moving further down your body. when his hands near the fuzzy socks with little cartoon santas dressing your feet, you're quick to speak. "those stay on, though."

"oh, is that so?"

"gotta make sure you're not just doing this for that foot fetish you might or might not have." a laughter erupts from his chest. "i've had too much of that recently."

"well, i don't have one, so i don't mind you keeping them on." he moves up on the bed again, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear. "but i can take these off, right?"

"things would get kinda tricky otherwise, i'd say,” you tease, but oscar merely blinks up at you with raised eyebrows.

"tricky, yes. but not impossible."

you shake your head, a grin making its way onto your lips. "next time, oscar."

and there it is again. next time. the way you say it so casually, like there's no doubt in your mind that there will be another time, that you'll do all of this again.

yet again, instant boner.

your panties are off in a second, and he doesn't waste any time before pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. his hand takes care of your other thigh, thumb brushing up and down your skin, as your lips travel closer and closer to where you want him the most.

you suck in a breath when you feel his warm breath against your core. his tongue meets your clit and your eyes flutter closed, one of your hands reaching down to entangle in his hair. as his tongue draws circles around your bud, one of his hands leaves your thigh, a finger swiping along your wet folds before pushing slowly into you. you don't know which sensation to focus on, both growing stronger and pushing you closer to your limit every passing second. when he's pumped you a couple of times, he adds another finger and then another, pushing deep into you. his fingers curling inside of you makes you pull on his hair even harder, your mind growing hazy and your breaths shorter.

"o-oscar," you let out, subconsciously buckling your hips towards him in hopes of creating more friction. "i'm so clos-"

you're cut off by the combination of a moan and a whine that leaves your lips when his tongue flicking your clit speeds up. "come for me, sweetheart," he tells you, his voice sending vibrations against your core.

your legs shake around him as you completely let go, feeling the climax wash over you just moments after his order. your free arm drapes over your face, covering your eyes in your arm as you try to catch your breath. oscar continues lapping you up, helping you ride it out, also licking his fingers clean before letting his hands caress your sides soothingly. he's unsure whether his fingers are warm enough now to not tickle you, or if you're just too busy coming down from your high to even realize you should feel ticklish, but he smiles at the thought nonetheless.

"everything alright up here?" oscar asks as he moves up to your face again, one of his hands prying the arm off your face. you slowly open your eyes, your hazy gaze meeting his loving one and you can't help but to cup his face in your hands. you pull him down to your lips, lazily lacing them together. he pulls away just enough for his lips to still brush yours when he speaks. "i'll take that as a yes."

you're quick to nod, but even quicker to connect his lips with yours again, not wanting to be apart for even a second.

your hands slide down his neck and the front of his body, loving the feeling of his strong muscles under your touch. your fingers reach down to the edge of his pajama pants, and you let out a chuckle when you notice the ever-growing tent in them. "don't laugh at me," he starts, biting down on your bottom lip as a warning. "you're so hot, how could i not get this hard?"

"oh, shut it," you say, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. "just take them off, will you?"

"as you wish."

as he shuffles off the bed and pulls off his own pants, plus his boxers along with them, you take the time to reach behind you and unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms and off the bed. when he reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a condom, you raise your eyebrows. "oh, so you were planning this?"

he shakes his head as he climbs on top of you again. "i was hoping, not expecting. those are two very different things." he removes the wrapper and throws it onto the table, rolling the condom onto himself. "do you need anything? or-"

"just you."

oscar presses his smile to yours, kissing you like he has no rush in the world, like he just wants to savor this moment with you. "well then," he says against your lips, nudging his dick against your entrance. "i have to give the lady what she wants, don't i?"

you can't control the whine that slips into his mouth when he pushes into you. you thought you were ready for him, but he's so big and he stretches you out so perfectly. he pauses once he's slipped entirely into you, his lips finding a spot below your ear as he allows you to get used to him. your pussy is throbbing already, still sensitive from just minutes ago, and the little involuntary clenches around him make oscar grow more and more eager.

when he finally starts moving, you drape your arms around his shoulders for stability. his thrusts are slow but deep, and yet you desperately want more of him. you hook a leg over his hip, the other following soon after, and you gasp at the way he bottoms you out completely. one of his hands comes up to squeeze your breast, thumb flicking over the nipple as his pace speeds up. the sounds you make and the way your legs squeeze him close makes him feel like he could cum anytime, but he tries to hold back because he needs to see you fall apart beneath him for the second time tonight.

"oscar..." you cry out when his free hand slides down your body, a finger coming in contact with your clit again.

"just a little more, love." his thrusts have grown sloppy and his figures on your bud aren't exactly perfect, but it's good enough for your orgasm to hit.

your back arches off the bed, your chest pressing into his as you nuzzle your face into the side of his neck to hide your moans. when your walls tighten around him, he reaches his high too, his body shaking as he rides it out. your heart is about ready to jump out of your chest when he collapses onto you, both of you trying to catch your breaths. "holy fuck," oscar starts, his breath warm on your skin. "that was amazing. you feel amazing." you try to gather energy to speak, fingers getting lost in his curls. "you taste amazing, too. better than any christmas dinner."

you give him a weak slap to his shoulder. "shush."

"it's true!" he pushes himself back a bit, mouth hanging in mock offense. "this was the best present i could've ever wished for."

"the necklace is higher on my list, though."

oscar pauses for a moment. "i'm not sure if i should feel proud or offended."

you snicker. "i was hoping for the latter," you tease, but regret it the moment oscar's hands find your waist, fingers dancing along it and tickling you yet again. the squeal you let out does nothing to halt his actions, and he doesn't even budge when you try to push him away by his shoulders. "i was kidding!"

"apologize. now."

his fingers still working their way on your skin make it almost impossible for you to speak again, but you do your best to take a deep breath. "i'm- i'm sorry! oscar- stop it!"

he finally stops, and you finally get to breathe. "i'll go get a wet towel," oscar says, pulling away from you and giving you one last glance. he almost doesn't leave the bed when he looks at you, though – he finds the sight almost too good to be true. your rosy cheeks, the dreamy smile on your lips, your hair spread out on the pillows. he's scared that if he leaves you, maybe the spell will be broken and he'll realize all of this has just been a dream. because that's just how this all feels: surreal.

but it is real, and he can't wait to have you like this in his bed again.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 26th, 12:56pm

packing up after a good trip is always a bittersweet affair. realizing that you have the real world waiting for you, your actual lives with responsibilities and obligations, and that you can't just stay in this fairytale forever – this moment was definitely not something you looked forward to.

you and charles need to get back to monaco to celebrate christmas with your other brothers and your mother, before he needs to go away for pre-season work again. you're meticulously folding up your clothes, zipping up bags and exchanging smiles as you reminisce on memories of the week.

but, things are different this time. you know that the magic of this trip isn't going to stay here – in one way or another, you'll bring some of it with you back to your real life.

oscar.

you've already made plans to meet up after new years, and even when he's busy with work, you know that you'll at least see him during every race weekend. neither of you are ever more than a flight, or a call, away, and you just can't wait to see where this all takes you.

"so... oscar, huh?" charles's voice breaks the silence, his eyes glancing in the direction of your open door that lets in the sound of oscar's voice from the living room.

"hm? what about him?" you reply, trying to hold back the smile threatening to adorn your lips when you hear his name.

charles cocks an eyebrow at you. "you and him... kind of obvious." he gazes towards your bed. "besides, your bed is made. you didn't sleep here last night."

"well, i-" you start, but charles interrupts with a knowing chuckle.

"relax, i'm not going to be a police. just..." he shows off a sweet smile. "enjoy it."

with a nod and a shared understanding, you both continue packing, an unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air. the group gathers to bid you farewell by the front door, and gratitude fills your heart as you exchange goodbyes with your friends. you grow especially soft when lando pulls you into a hug, a cheeky grin on his lips. "thank you," you whisper, giving his cheek a quick peck to really convey how much you appreciate everything he's done this holiday. he just squeezes you back, telling you not to worry about it.

finally, as you turn to say your farewell to oscar, the atmosphere shifts and the group watches with amused anticipation. "until next time," you say, your eyes holding a promise that transcends the physical distance.

"until next time," he repeats, smiling as you engulf him in a tight hug.

you pull away just enough for your ear to brush against his ear, your voice low. "charles knows, by the way."

"w-what?" his eyes widen for a moment, flickering between you and your brother – but then realization dawns. "well, in that case..."

before you can react, oscar pulls you closer again. he presses a goodbye-kiss on your lips, right there in front of everyone, and the group erupts into cheers.

and the loudest of them all? lando, of course. "if i'm not the best man at your wedding, i'll never forgive you guys."

[loaksky]

— 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮

the deets — lo'ak is the black sheep in the family, clinging to honor by a precarious thread. you are the well-loved songstress in the tribe. he should resent you for being everything he's not, but his fickle heart can't bring him to do so.

the who — lo'ak x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 10.2k (rip yall)

the tags — (one-sided) rivals-to-lovers, angsty angsty, hurt / comfort, reader gives lo'ak a big ol smooch (perhaps more than one), lo’ak is the biggest dumbass and because of this he’s mean asf, reader has a big ol heart and just really wants lo’ak to like her, aged!up characters for maturity’s sake. 

the warnings — language, lo'ak is in luv but doesn't realize it, he's in denial that the feelings could be reciprocated, this is super dramatic so put your seat belts on!

the notes — was feeling extra sad and wanted to write something self-indulgent. this lovely anon requested something, and i used their ask as inspiration to finish this beast. fine line, bags, and love in dark are the three main songs i listened to finish this, so if you wanna be in your feels, have a listen LMAO. despite all the support, i’m still so mf nervous posting this ejsjsjdjs

masterlist

SOMETHING UGLY KINDLES IN THE PIT of Lo'ak's stomach at the mere mention of your name. It's sour on his tongue, bitter in his brain. He doesn't know when he's started to feel like this, started to feel absolutely dreadful anytime he'd hear the timbre of your voice. 

It's warm, thick like nectar and it makes him sick. 

Ever since you all were little, the elders crooned over what a great girl you were growing into; strong, intelligent, beautiful. It made him boil how much they'd sing your praises, the high esteem everyone held you in as one of the clan's most talented. 

Something dull would pick at him being compared to his older brother, but nothing burned more than being compared to you. 

Maybe it's because it's always implied whenever your names share the same sentences, that lingering implication that he could be more like you. The clan fans the flames of your mere existence while Lo'ak is snuffed out like a dying fire. 

He hates it. He hates you. 

He thinks. 

It'd be easier to, if you were awful behind the scenes. Arrogant, stuck up, but you're none of those things. You're kind, gentle, mighty when you need to be. It doesn't help that you shine like the brightest star, engulfing everyone in your light, in your warmth. 

But Lo'ak resists. He sees right through you, sees right through every saccharine smile you send him. He can see it in your eyes, how you really see him. Despite standing a full head taller than you, he sees the way you look down your nose at him. 

It grates his nerves, how disgustingly sweet you are towards him despite all attempts to rebuff you. 

Certainly doesn’t soothe his ego when you always seem to be around the bend every time he gets bitched at by the clan, eyes soft and filled with pity. To add insult to injury, you frequently tail him like a shadow after these moments when all he wants is to be alone. 

Like now, you linger. 

It's after dinner and Kiri and Spider stand before him. They come together like the three points of a triangle and you stand an awkward distance away from them. 

Kiri notices you first, her face splitting into a big smile as she waves you over. 

Lo'ak breathes a deep sigh before locking eyes with Spider who tries his best to suppress an amused grin. 

“Hi,” you chirp and Lo'ak can't help but roll his eyes. 

Spider and Kiri greet you eagerly. Lo'ak simply nods his head in acknowledgement before tightening his fist around his dagger. 

“We going or what?” he finally says. 

You perk up. 

“Where are you guys heading off to?” you ask curiously, hands clasped behind your back.

Spider opens his mouth to answer, but Lo'ak cuts him off quickly. 

“No where important,” he says, unsure if you'll blab about their whereabouts to the elders, or worse, his parents. 

You roll your lips and shift on your feet. 

“Can I come?” you ask hesitantly, eyes hopeful. 

Kiri's smile grows as she links her arm with yours. 

“No,” he says sharply. “Absolutely not.” 

Your face falls and something pulls inside his chest when you fail meet his gaze, your frown barely perceptible. 

You make a move to pull from Kiri's grasp, but her arm tightens through yours. She levels Lo'ak with a weighty glare and you fidget uncomfortably under his narrowed eyes. 

“Don't worry about it,” you say, like someone's hit a reset button. You smile that pretty smile and Lo'ak wants to scream. "It's okay, I think Rutan needs help with clean up." 

You slip from Kiri's grasp and the three watch you walk off. 

“Do you always have to be such a bitch?” Spider scoffs a disbelieving laugh. 

“She's just gonna tag along so she can snitch,” Lo'ak grumbles. 

“Oh c'mon,” Kiri argues. “________ just wants friends.”

Lo'ak sneers. 

“I don't want to be friends with her,” he says firmly, knuckles white around the handle of his knife.

“Weirdo,” Spider mumbles. “She’s cute. Think she likes you.”

Lo'ak's spine stiffens.

“It's an act” Lo'ak grumbles. “She just wants to look good in front of the elders to keep up whatever nice girl show she's putting on.” 

Kiri rolls her eyes hard. 

There are moments when Lo'ak thinks he's being harsh, but he can't help himself. It's like he loses all semblance of a filter when it comes to you. 

“Hi, Lo'ak,” you greet him sweetly, lowering yourself onto the fallen log he's perched on, fashioning arrows to practice with later on in the evening with Neteyam. 

He shifts away from you, putting the distance of two bodies between the two of you as he pauses his task at hand. 

“Hi,” he says flatly. 

“Can I help?” you ask tentatively, fingers twitching towards one of the untouched sticks in a pile next to his feet. 

His kicks them closer to himself, out of your reach before leveling you with a sharp glare. 

“No thanks,” he says quickly and you recoil slowly, letting out a shaky laugh before fixing that stupid smile on your pretty face. 

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, straightening in your seat. 

A silence so uncomfortably palpable settles over the two of you as you shift so that your knees are turned towards him. 

His throat bobs when his gaze travels from your little toes all the way up to your inquisitive gaze, golden and searching. It makes something unruly settle in his gut and he turns his attention back to carving his arrows. 

“Do you need something?” he breaks the silence finally. “I'm kinda busy.”

You bite your lip before scooting a little closer to Lo'ak's hunched figure. 

“My birthday's coming up,” you start. 

“I'm aware,” Lo'ak almost scoffs. 

It's all the clan has been able to talk about for the past few days. How they'd be able to prepare for the golden girl's next birth cycle and what they'd be able to do to make you smile the brightest. 

“Your birthday is a week before,” you state and his head whips towards you. 

“How do you know that?” he asks sharply, accusation heavy in his gruff tone. 

You flinch and he falters for a moment before your smile simply widens. 

“We grew up together, Lo'ak,” you say and the way his name sounds from your mouth sounds absolutely heavenly. “You're my friend.”

Friend. 

He scowls at the term.

“We're not friends,” he bites back. 

If the statement bothers you, you don't show it, simply tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before putting on a brave face. 

“I want to celebrate with you,” you say shyly. 

“Hard pass,” he says too quickly, gathering his sticks and fashioned arrows under his grasp. 

He leaves you in the clearing on your own.

You must be fucking with him. You have to be. It'd be the only explanation for why Jake pulls him aside a few nights later and tells him that you've requested to work with him and Neteyam during archery practice. 

“No,” he says stiffly, shaking his head. 

His dad levels him with a hard glare and Lo'ak sighs deeply. 

“She's a nuisance, Dad,” he argues. “Me and Neteyam are making good progress with our training and we'll have to start at square one if she joins.”

“Lo'ak, this isn't an ask,” Jake says sternly. 

“But, Dad!”

“Lo'ak.”

Lo'ak huffs, snatching his bow and quiver angrily before storming off. 

“You're doing great,” Neteyam says to you once the three of you have convened in the training circle. 

The three arrows you've shot have all landed within centimeters of the mark and to say that Neteyam is impressed is an understatement. Lo'ak, on the other hand, fumes not-so-silently as he tears his arrows from his target. 

Yet again, you have another person wrapped around your finger and it makes his blood simmer as he assumes his position at the marker and loads his arrow. It splinters through the air and hits the target right on the bullseye. The arrow punctures through the hide and lodges its way into the wood from the sheer force of Lo’ak’s shot. 

You start at him moon-eyed, lush lips breaking into a full smile. 

“Perfect shot,” you observe. “That was awesome.” 

Lo’ak scans your features hesitantly before his gaze flits to his older brother, waiting for any acknowledgment that he’d done a great job, but Neteyam is taking notes on the arrows still stuck in the fabric of your own target. 

His heart sinks. 

“Fuck this,” Lo’ak grumbles, bundling all of his belongings.

He stalks through the clearing, past his brother, to leave you two. 

He doesn’t know what fuels the fire more, the fact that Neteyam didn’t even bat an eye at the feat they’d been practicing for for the past three weeks because he was too immersed in you, or the fact that you bore witness to his first clean shot and gave him that sickeningly sweet smile that made his stomach turn. 

“Where are you going?” Neteyam sighs. 

“Somewhere you two aren’t,” he grumbles under his breath, ducking through the brush of the lofty forest. 

You lick your lips, locking eyes with Neteyam as you give him a bashful grin and slowly break away to follow Lo’ak’s path. 

He isn’t far ahead as you push through the vines and low-hanging leaves, the path lined with large plants and the spindly roots of the looming trees. The grass is plush between your toes as you scamper to follow Lo’ak from a distance, watching as his lithe body climbs through the dense flora. 

“Why are you following me?” he calls after a few dozen paces, stopping in the middle of the path to whirl on his heel. 

His golden eyes are syrupy, warm despite the edge, and you can’t help but flash him your pearly whites in a genuine smile that takes up your dimpled cheeks. 

“Why’d you run off?” you ask him. “You were doing so well!” 

His chest rises and falls with a scoff. 

“You can give it a rest, you know?” Lo’ak says flatly, fist so tight around his bow he feels like he’ll crush the wood. 

Your expression morphs, eyebrows furrowing in a way that makes Lo’ak throat bob, something pinching behind his ribcage. 

“What?” you ask, frown marring your pretty face. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you can stop acting like you wanna be friends with me,” Lo’ak says matter-of-factly. 

“You are my friend,” you protest quietly. 

Lo’ak rolls his eyes. 

“Dude, whatever,” he mutters, turning his back on you. 

“Is it so wrong?” you murmur and he stops in his tracks, refusing to meet your gaze. “To be friends?” 

Friends. 

That stupid fucking word again.

Lo’ak bites his tongue and stalks off, leaving you on the path. 

Neteyam rips him a new one when he sees him at dinner later that night. Lo’ak hangs his head as Neteyam digs in.

“Is it so hard to be nice?” Neteyam asks, hand squeezing his shoulder as they stand a handful of meters away from the main circle. 

As his eyes wander, he notices you sitting with his sister, head thrown back in laughter that glitters and wafts with the rising smoke of the fire. He swallows turning his attention back to his older brother. 

“Just don’t like her,” he admits. “I want her to leave me alone.” 

“You don’t like her or you like her too much?” Neteyam asks, brow bone raised. 

Lo’ak’s face scrunches.

“Ew, no,” he blurts. “Why would I—”

“________ just wants to fit in,” he sighs. “She has trouble making friends.” 

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Lo’ak mocks. “I don’t know why Kiri and Spider are always up her ass, she’s—”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam warns. 

“Dude, everyone is always ________ this, _________ that! I don’t understand what’s so great about her—”

A throat clears and the brothers both turn their attention to the newcomer. Lo’ak could groan in frustration seeing that you’ve abandoned your seat and now stand nearby with two wooden plates. 

“They’re going to start cleaning up soon,” you say hesitantly. “Wanted to bring you some.” 

Neteyam takes it graciously from you, nodding his head in thanks while Lo’ak stares down at the plate you’d arranged for him, abundant in vegetables and thick cuts of meat. 

“No thanks,” he says flatly.

You try to coax him. 

“C’mon Lo’ak, you say gently. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.” 

“No thanks,” he repeats stonily, holding his hand up. 

You offer up the plate again. 

“Lo’ak–“ 

“I said no thank you,” he grunts, annoyed. 

He’d only meant to push it back towards you, but one second it’s in your hands, the next you’re wearing dinner, the plate clattering onto the ground. 

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam scolds. 

“Shit, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” you breathe an airy laugh and Lo’ak freezes when he hears your breath hitch. “It was an accident.” 

“Oh, ________…” Neteyam sighs, but you’re picking up the plate and scurrying off, ignoring the nearby snickering. 

“Whatever you got going on, you need to cool it,” Jake scolds him in the family tent after dinner that night. “________ is a good girl, she’s trying to find her place. Can’t really do that if you’re gonna be a jerk to her all the time.” 

Lo’ak resists the urge to roll his eyes because, yet again, someone is sticking up for you, admonishing him about how he could be nicer, how he could take you under his wing, how he–

“What about me?” Lo’ak argues. “I tell her to leave me alone all the time, but she doesn’t listen. Why do I have to be nice to someone who doesn’t respect–”

“Cut the bullshit,” Jake thunders. “You haven’t even tried being her friend.” 

“Why should I?” Lo’ak counters. 

“Because maybe you two are more alike than you’d care to learn,” Jake says knowingly. “Now go apologize.” 

“Dad!” 

“Go, Lo’ak.” 

Lo’ak sucks in a deep breath before squeezing his eyes shut and blowing out through his nose. 

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he grumbles, ducking from the tent into the humid night air. 

He starts into the jungle, fingers brushing over the leaves and petals of the plants and flowers. He takes the moment to regulate his pounding heart in his chest before trying to wrack his brain for any words that he could scrounge into a believable apology. 

When he crosses the glowing waters of a skinny brook, something rustles nearby and his hand is on the hilt of his dagger in the blink of an eye. 

He turns to face the noise, knife drawn, but then you emerge and his body relaxes a fraction. 

“Fuck, ________, you scared me,” he sighs in relief. 

You fidget and swallow down the lump in your throat. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. 

A brief silence dawns the two of you and Lo’ak notes that you’ve cleaned up from the evening meal’s debacle, now wearing a longer loincloth threaded with round pearlescent beads that refract the luminescence of the surrounding forest. 

Your grasp tightens around a leather bound journal and for a moment, he wonders what you could be writing about. 

When you follow his gaze, you shyly tuck the journal behind your back and give him an uneasy smile. 

“I wanted to–”

“I came to–”

Your words clash and you breathe a little laugh through your nose as you gaze at him with brilliant eyes. You start closing the distance and Lo’ak’s hands grow clammy. 

“You first,” you offer. 

Whatever threads of an apology he’d crafted in the moments prior have evaporated now that you stand before him, absolutely glowing. 

“Lo’ak?” Your head tilts and his cheeks warm. 

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “For what happened at dinner.” 

You shake your head quickly. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him, reaching out to touch him. 

He recoils, clearing his throat as he retreats to put an ample amount of distance between the two of you. 

You eye the berth and something shutters across your face as you rock back on your heels and flash him another uneasy smile. 

You haven’t even tried being her friend, his dad’s words echo like a call in the night. Maybe you two are more alike that you care to learn. 

Were you? You and Lo’ak were as different as they come, you molded by the love and adoration of the clan, him built up by the lessons and lectures he received from his parents and Neteyam. 

“Where are you going?” you ask, blowing by the previous conversation. 

He shrugs. 

“Dunno,” he admits. “I was looking for you.” 

The way you freeze is almost covert, your lips rolling as you try to hide the smile threatening to split your face. 

“Oh,” you hum. “Wanna go for a walk?” 

No, he wants to say. He absolutely does not want to spend anymore time with you than he has to. Likes to believe that he wouldn’t even bat an eye if he were to never see you again, but you’re looking at him expectantly and his dad’s words are like a mantra in his head, so he agrees begrudgingly. 

It’s awkward at first, silent except for the natural soundtrack of the vicarious jungle. But like you do so well, you break the silence and Lo’ak has to resist rolling his eyes for the third time that night. 

“What are your favorite colors?” you ask suddenly. 

“I dunno, green?” he offers. 

“Are you sure?” you laugh quietly. 

Lo’ak thinks a moment before nodding his head. 

“Yeah, green,” he finalizes. “And blue.” 

He barely notices that you’d fallen behind, and when he turns to look over his shoulder, he sees that you’re scratching something into your little journal. 

“And your favorite fruit?” you press, nose still between the pages. 

Lo’ak breathes out a laugh and your head shoots up. 

“What? You gonna send this list to the lab?” Lo’ak asks.

You give him a shy smile, shifting on your feet. 

“No,” you say softly, then whisper to yourself, “just compiling a list to win your heart.” 

Lo’ak barely hears you, ears twitching as his eyes narrow in confusion. 

“What?” he asks. 

You snap your notebook shut, shaking your head quickly as you pad through the grass to catch up to him. 

“Nothing.” 

Something ripples in the fabric after that night, you and Neteyam both notice when Lo’ak enters the training clearing the next afternoon and greets you with a nod instead of flat out ignoring your presence like he had the last training session. 

And you think that the moment is fleeting, a one off, but as the days progress, you realize that maybe Lo’ak is finally softening around you. 

He stays for entire lessons, the most minute of smiles twitching at his lips whenever you compliment his shots. He waits near the edge for you as you pack up your things, and while the walk back to the village is a quiet one, you bask in his company, triumphant when he doesn’t run off. 

And while your evening walks are few and far between, you savor the moments he affords you, wedging yourself between him the crumbling walls of his facade. 

Tonight is one of those moments, sitting on adjacent branches overlooking the lively forest, when Lo’ak lets you peek farther into his life than he’d originally intended. 

“He never understands,” he sighs, popping a few berries from his satchel past his lips. 

Tonight’s topic is his father and you listen intently, eyes fixed on the way he reclines on the branch and looks up at the stars. 

“I try hard, you know? To make everyone proud, but all they see is my failure,” he says, obviously annoyed. “No matter what I do, it’s not good enough.” 

“You do great things, Lo’ak,” you say quietly, the first words you’ve said all night. 

And like your voice is a reminder, Lo’ak’s spine goes rigid, throat bobbing as he realizes that he may have said too much to you. He’s getting too comfortable and you’re all the willing to absorb every insecurity and every worry he has. 

But something about quiet moments like these makes him loose-lipped, eyes fluttering to where you’ve got your notebook balanced in the seam of your thighs, scrawling something on the pages as you eat your own berries. 

The words are leaving him before he can stop them. 

“Easy for you to say,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect.” 

The laugh that escapes you startles him and a few of the berries he was about to devour slips from his fingers and plunk down the leaves.

“I’m not perfect,” you assure him. 

“Only someone who’s perfect would say that,” Lo’ak grumbles, peering over the edge of the branches to spot his fallen fruit. “The whole village loves you, everyone’s always so ready to bat for you.” 

You look down at the pages of your journal with a sad smile. 

“It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit quietly. “Everyone’s watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up.” 

Lo’ak shifts uncomfortably.

You continue. 

“And most of the villagers our age don’t like me,” you say, thumbing one of the pages. “They say I kiss ass, that I’m always trying to keep a leg up.” 

Lo’ak winces, knowing that he’s the source of at least one of those sentiments. 

“The elders think you’re honorable,” Lo’ak argues gently. “You’re talented, you have something to offer the people.” 

“Honor means nothing if you’re bound by it,” you say finally, closing the cover to your journal. “If anything, I want to be more like you.” 

“Like me?” Lo’ak asks incredulously, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

You nod, smiling at him. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think you��re brave, fearless. And even if you care what people think, you do what you want.”

Lo’ak is quiet, taken aback by your confession.

Before he can respond, you’re gathering your things, bidding him a warm farewell as you begin climbing down the tree to disappear into the night. 

After that night, you think that maybe you’re just imagining things, that you’re reading too much into the fact that Lo’ak has begun to finally act like you exist, but then Kiri says something and the hope sends your heart soaring. 

“Seems like he finally got his head out of his ass,” she says a few mornings later as you two stand near a shallow stream, eyes peeled for any fish you two could bring back to the village. 

“Think so?” you ask nervously, arrow trapping the flailing fish to the pebbles of the stream’s bed. 

Kiri shrugs. 

“He actually pays you mind now,” Kiri observes. “That’s a step up for sure. I think you just need to spend more time with him.” 

You smile, splashing through shallow waters to capture the fish and add it to the growing pile in the basket between you and the middle Sully. 

“Yeah?” you wonder

So you test the theory, basket filled with various peeled fruits and a little container of nectar you squeezed from the petals of a flower. 

It doesn’t take long to hunt him down. When you enter the training circle, he’s packing up his things, quiver strapped to his back and bow in his fist. 

Before you make yourself known, he’s turning on his heel to face you, eyes wild as he swallows down the lump in his throat. 

He’d be the last to admit that the last night you two spent together was branded in his brain, that his mouth had dried up so much so he felt his tongue could crack.

There were so many implications in your words and it horrified him, scared him so much that he knew he couldn’t let you that close again. 

But now you stand before him, pretty as can be, hopeful even, and he’s at a war with himself, absolutely caught between resenting you for being everything he’s not and giving into the draw. 

“Hi,” you greet, basket heavy in your hands. 

You look more radiant than usual, skirt brushing the forest floor, the woven vine of your top banded to expose your midriff. 

“Hey,” he replies hesitantly. 

“Where you going?” you ask curiously.

His throat bobs as he gestures behind him. 

“Hunting,” is all he says.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you ask eagerly.

He doesn’t. He shouldn’t. Because things are shifting and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the change. If he’ll be able to admit to himself that you’re wearing him thin, that you make him feel things he’s never felt before and that it makes him feel like he has no control. 

Because when it boils down to it, you make him lose control, make him lose his filter, and make him feel every emotion twice as hard. 

“No,” he says.

And in that moment, you feel like you’re back at square one, watching as his eyes turn stony and his jaw sets firmly. 

“You shouldn’t go hunting on your own,” you say softly. “Will someone be with you?” 

“It’s fine,” he argues. “I’m fine.” 

“I can go with you!” you offer. “I thought maybe we could sit by the stream and talk, but we can go hunting instead. We can–” 

“No,” he says again, pinning you with eyes so lethal, it makes you wonder if you really had imagined the moments you shared with him, if you had imagined Kiri telling you that she saw it too. 

You try again anyways. 

“It’ll be good practice and–”

“I said no, ________,” he barks. “You’re dead weight and I want to be alone.” 

Your lips seal and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

Lo’ak could nearly scream in frustration when he notices the way your shoulders sag and it makes something in his heart cinch. 

“Okay,” you agree, nodding quickly. “Be safe and–”

The words die on your tongue when you notice the look of annoyance on Lo’ak’s face. 

Lo’ak is in deep shit, you come to find out hours later. 

You sit outside of the training circle, knowing that Lo’ak will return down the path after his hunting trip. What you don’t expect, however, is Jake and Neytiri emerging with the entire line of Sully kids and Spider.

Jake grips the back of Lo’ak’s neck tightly as they march past wandering eyes, straight to the family tent. You don’t miss his wounds though, varying in depth, some bleeding, some sore. 

You’re hot on their heels, standing right outside of the entrance as Jake tears into the middle Sully. 

“Time and time again, I have to get on your ass for doing the complete opposite of what I ask you to do!” Jake’s voice is thunderous inside the tent. “Do you not realize that you not only risked your life but your sisters’ too?”

There’s a beat of silence before Jake continues, obviously pacing from the way his volume fluctuates. 

“And what were you thinking bringing Tuk? She’s nine, Lo’ak!” he shouts, the anger and the hurt evident in his tone. 

“I’m sorry,” Lo’ak mumbles. 

“Yeah, I bet you are!” Jake scolds. “I don’t ask for much. All I want is for you stay in line. Just stay out of trouble and work hard on your training. I paired you with ________ and Neteyam in hopes that maybe you’ll tighten up and be more like them, but you’re always disappointing me.” 

You frown. 

Whatever Lo’ak had done probably didn’t warrant such deep admonishment and something tugs especially hard at your heartstrings knowing that all he wants to do is make his dad proud. 

“You’re surrounded by good influences, but you always have to go against the grain, Lo’ak,” Jake says, the edge in his tone softening. “I’m getting tired of the bullshit, son. You need to clean up your act. Hear me?” 

“Yes sir,” Lo’ak says quietly, voice almost a whisper behind the hide of the tent. 

“Now go get yourself cleaned up,” Jake huffs. 

Your spine is straightening when you hear foot steps closing in, holding your breath as the flap to the tent billows open and Lo’ak is emerging.

His eyes flit to yours and his expression sours further. 

“Lo’ak,” you murmur, reaching out to him. 

He’s shrugging you away, wincing when a wound on his shoulder stretches especially taut. 

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly. “I’ll–”

“Leave me alone,” he says, eerily level. 

“But you’re–”

“I said leave me alone, ________,” he warns, pushing past you in what should be the pursuit of his grandmother’s quarters.

Instead he’s making a beeline for the jungle. 

You’d seen the look in his eye before he stonewalled you, seen the hurt and heaviness that most people didn’t seem to notice because he was always so adventurous and carefree. 

You follow after him. 

“Lo’ak, you know he’s only worried for you,” you try to reason gently, fingers reaching for his own as you duck under massive leaves and fluttering insects. 

He whirls to face you, swatting your hand away. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he bites. “You don’t know anything.” 

You swallow, holding your hand to your chest as you watch him lay down every brick to wall himself off. 

He hates it. He hates how you look at him, how you seem to pity the life he has to live. It makes him sick, thinking that you two have it the same. He’d rather be hated for being great than hated for being a let down. It’s insulting, how you think you know how it feels. 

“Let’s go back. I’ll wrap your wounds and–”

“Of course, clan’s golden girl is gonna patch me up and make it all better, huh?” he seethes facetiously. “Just fuck off!” 

You flinch, blinking at the boy you holds so much rage in front of you. 

“I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to be mean,” you whisper, taking in a shuddering breath to will yourself not to cry. 

“Mean? Mean?” Lo’ak bristles. “I’ve tried telling you to lay off nicely, tried telling you to just leave me alone, but you don’t listen. You just pry and overstep and you make every little thing about you! Oh, it’s so much pressure, villagers our age hate me, of course they would! You already have everything and just have to go rub salt in the wound!” 

You shrink, eyes welling as your lip trembles. 

“Lo’ak, stop,” you whimper. 

“We’re not friends, ________.We never were and we never will because I don’t like you,” he spits. “Now please, for the love of god, will you just leave me alone!” 

The forest is silent save for Lo’ak’s ragged breathing, fists clenched as he glares down at you. 

“I-” Your breath hitches and you choke out an apology. “I’m sorry.” 

Lo’ak’s heart softens a fraction as you take a step back, turning quickly on your heel. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you rasp, tripping over your own feet as you stumble into a run, putting as much space as you can between you and the middle child who stands in the middle of the forest, unable to wrangle every harsh word he’d said to force back down his throat. 

You dropped your journal. 

Lo’ak is sure you’re looking for it, know that you’ve always got your nose stuck in it. You had dropped it running off and now he has its leather bound in his hands. 

It’s been a couple of nights since the faithful evening he’d blown his top and he’d only seen whispers of you. It was so unlike you to disappear, to not be entertaining the masses as they fell to your feet. 

He’d cooled off significantly, and when he replayed the conversation in his head, he winced, body folding in on itself as he realizes how harsh he’d been. 

“Are you actually thinking thoughts?” Spider claps him on the shoulder, startling him so badly he drops the journal. 

It lands spine down, the pages fluttering open. 

He chances a peek before Spider is rounding his lithe figure to pick up the notebook. All he makes out is a rough sketch. 

“You write?” Spider asks, intrigued. 

“No, it’s ________’s,” Lo’ak answers. 

“Oh, your little girlfriend’s?” 

Lo’ak gives the human a cross look, snatching the book from his grasp as he stands up.

“Trouble in paradise?” Spider pries, scurrying to keep up with Lo’ak’s long strides. 

A beat of silence before Lo’ak finally answers. 

“Made her cry,” he mumbles, embarrassed. 

Spider winces behind him. 

“You serious?” 

Lo’ak sighs. 

“Yes, dude, fuck,” he breathes, hand coming to the back of his neck. “I don’t know what came over me. Dad was ripping me a new one and Neteyam already chewed me out before they got there and she was being annoying, so I just…” 

“Bro,” Spider scoffs in disbelief, scratching the back of his head. “You’re a real dickhead sometimes.” 

Lo’ak’s eyes wander as he shifts uncomfortably, feeling incredibly small as his friend glares up at him. 

“I mean, I told her I wanted to be left alone!” Lo’ak tries to defend weakly. “I- I didn’t mean to.” 

“She likes you a lot, dude,” Spider reiterates. “She just wants you to like her back.” 

Despite the glaring signs, Lo’ak has trouble believing that your feelings for him far surpass charity work. They couldn’t, it was impossible. Because at the end of the day, you’re you and he’s…him. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but Spider beats him to it.

“Did you at least apologize?” 

Lo’ak squirms.

“Dude!” 

“Look, I know, I know,” he tries to assuage the situation. 

“________ is literally the sweetest girl in the entire clan you just–“ 

“I get it, bro, I get it!” Lo’ak huffs. 

“Get your head out of your ass,” Spider says. “She might not stick around long enough for you to realize.” 

“Realize what?” Lo’ak snaps. 

“Are you really gonna play stupid right now?” 

He blinks at the human. 

“You like ________,” Spider says matter-of-factly. “You always have, ever since we were kids.” 

“Oh, piss off,” Lo’ak grumbles.

“Dude, you’re literally my best friend, but I sometimes I wanna shove my foot so far up your–”

“I do not like ________,” Lo’ak says sharply. 

“Everyone sees it but you, dipshit,” Spider scoffs. “You like her, but you’re scared. She’s perfect and she intimidates you. Think she’s gonna see you for what you really are and turn her back on you like everyone else does when you fuck up, but she’s not like that, Lo’ak. She’s been there whether you like it or not. But she might not always.” 

Lo’ak swallows down the knot in his throat, fingers tightening around the notebook. 

“Everything clicking?” Spider asks knowingly. 

Lo’ak throws him a final narrowed glare before stalking off. 

It’s Lo’ak’s birthday and just like every orbit, he spends it alone in the forest.

At first, he’d been burdened with the weight of hurting your feelings, but now his conversation with Spider weighs heavy on him as he climbs dirt walkways and flowered paths. 

It doesn’t help that your notebook weighs heavy in his satchel, a silent reminder that he still has a piece of you while you cling to his peace of mind. 

I think you’re brave, fearless. They’re the words you uttered to him that fateful night you turned the reality of you two on its axis. 

As he splices all the moments you two shared like a reel, he realizes that it’s endless. That you’re always there, you’d always been there, like a layer of impenetrable atmosphere surrounding him. 

He really should apologize, he knows this much, but you’ve disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Training sessions have returned to a sibling affair and he’s too prideful to ask about you. 

It’s almost eclipse when he begins making his way back for the evening meal, knowing that a scolding will await if he arrives even a minute late. 

After what had happened with you, he was lying low, trying to diminish his blip from the radar.

As he closes in on the village’s main circle, he notes that it’s quiet. A little too quiet. It puts him on edge, makes him draw his bow and feel around for an arrow in his quiver. 

A few more paces and he’s broken into the clearing, a few stragglers milling about. Another half a dozen steps and it’s like the forest melts into a celebration, whorls of blue pouring into the circle as villagers begin trilling. 

Lo’ak is hoisted into the air as the dying fire in the center of the camp begins to slowly roar. 

“Happy birthday, baby bro!” Neteyam caws loudly as they begin jostling him into the air, chanting and dancing as the dense crowd of clanspeople celebrate him.

It’s like time slows as he peers from side to side eagerly, seeing the way Spider, Kiri and Tuk dance happily among his people. Jake and Neytiri stand near the fire, smiles wide when they see the look of awe on their middle son’s face. 

When he’s finally set on his feet, he wobbles, childlike as he turns, taking in the glowing streamers that crisscross between the tents. Flowers of green and blue thread through the vines, gleaming like lamplight as the forest buzzes around them. 

“Wha– What is all this?” Lo’ak croaks in disbelief, eyes flitting wildly as he notices Norm and Max standing next to a table they’d hauled from the pod to the circle, piled high with meats and vegetables wrapped in leaves. 

A platter of yovo fruits, his favorite, are at the center, surrounded by a painted sign with his name and the handprints of dozens of villagers on it. 

“You survived another orbit!” Neteyam laughs heartily, head-locking the younger boy before roughly digging his knuckles into the top of his head. 

A laugh bubbles from Lo’ak’s lips, swatting his brother away as villagers and clan members he’d grown up with approach him one by one to greet him. 

As the night progresses, he doesn’t even realize he’s searching until your mother approaches and his spine goes rigid, cheeks warming under her piercing gaze. 

“From my ________,” she says, setting a pouch into his palms. “She toiled over these for many eclipses. Please take care.” 

Lo’ak’s nod is delayed as his satchel shifts on his shoulders, a dull reminder that your journal still remains with him, begging to be read. 

“Where– Where is she?” he asks suddenly, feeling your absence all the more now that your gift sits in the palm of his hand. 

“My daughter does not feel well,” your mother says simply. “She wished to be excused from the festivities.” 

His chest feels hollow, stomach tight as his cheeks burn. You’d mentioned this to him, all those days ago in the training circle, about wanting to celebrate with him. 

His eyes flit to the flowers looped through the vines, the mountain of yovo fruits, the gift in his hands. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Doesn’t want to fuel the tiniest ember of hope in chest, but he can’t help it. 

He can’t help but read into it, into the implications of this celebration you’d planned all for him, into every word you uttered to him in the quiet of the forest’s chirping. 

It’s all it takes for him to lock himself in his own head. The feast melts into the background, dull, as his eyes cut the crowd for you. 

You have to be here, gotta be hanging around the outskirts silently. The idea taunts him, makes his gut twist hard as images of you dancing in the circle, singing to him, celebrating him, loving him—

Lo’ak freezes, blinking incredulously at the thought that’d just crossed his brain. It makes him queasy, makes the regret and the guilt gnaw at every nerve ending as your crying face flashes like an unwanted slideshow in his brain. 

It’s all he can think about as the festivities die, as villagers begin turning in the for the night and he helps his family clean up the aftermath of another orbit finally finished. 

Spider helps Tuk and Neteyam near the fire, and as Lo’ak moves through the motions like he’s caught in a tide, Kiri watches, knowing all too well what consumes her brother’s mind. 

It isn’t until Lo’ak is shrouded by the stillness of the early morning, his family tucked in their tent, bodies and limbs splayed as they sleep together, that he sits in a swinging hammock, your journal and the pouch in his lap. 

It feels wrong, the way he thumbs the cover, working up the courage to turn it open. But Ewya, fate, would have never left it in his wake if it wasn’t meant to be read.

As his finger ghosts the etchings of the front cover, worn and loved by you, something tickles his leg as he admires the leather. He blinks in disbelief when he sees a singular woodsprite resting against his thigh. 

Before he loses his nerve, he’s opening the pages with bated breath. 

Recipes, nature notes, short thoughts fill the sheets and Lo’ak feels like he’s reading into your brain, seeing all the little things no one bothers to know. 

he is like the sun,

shines so bright,

but burns the closer you get. 

Lo’ak’s pointer finger glosses over the ink, over your curly handwriting. 

he is so incredible, but he doesn’t even know it. i want to shout it to every creature in the forest, every tree and every flower. oh, how i wish to be as fearless as him. 

His chest heaves as the words blur. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

In this moment, he feels everything but. He feels like a coward. 

He continues to flip, throat lodged as he sees drawings, both rough sketches and full renderings. He hadn’t even known that you liked to draw, yet here he was, observing his home through your artistic eye. 

Flowers, leaves, trees, creatures, insects, fruits mar the stained papers, etched like it’d been caught in real time. 

likes green and blue. 

likes yovo fruits. 

The entry from the day you’d first walked with him through the forest. 

When he turns the page, his breath hitches. 

In full color, you’d captured his bullseye from your first training session. His back taut from the release, expression shaded stoic. He looked mighty, like the strongest warrior, and it was all through your eyes. 

Lo’ak doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the bullseye in the illustration bleeds from a fallen tear. Another one drips from his chin, then another. 

The next page is the night you two had poured your hearts out to each other. Again, in full color, he’s watching the stars. You don’t leave out the glow of the freckles that smatter his face and body, don’t miss the smile that plays at his lips as he quietly points out that his dad had come from a star. 

He flips again and different iterations and designs for what seems like jewelry litters the pages, shaded with different colors of blue and green, marked with varying notes, x’s marking through ideas you didn’t like. 

Lo’ak remembers the pouch, sitting untouched in his lap, and his shaky fingers undo the ties. He shakes the contents on the flat of the notebook and the most intricate beadwork fits into the crease. 

His eyes widen as he picks up the necklace in a trembling hand, the eclipsing sun catching the etching in the flat stones. 

Four five-fingered hands and four four-fingered ones, each separated by jewels scavenged and cleaned from the bed of the glowing river. 

A small scroll flutters from the pouch and Lo’ak chokes back as sob as he unrolls the hide. 

Happy Birthday, Lo’ak. I am always grateful to know someone like you. May your next orbit be filled with endless blessings from Ewya and may you see yourself how I see you. 

You see him, he realizes. You’re his supporter, a silent force that consumes every insecurity and swallows every doubt. You believe in him more than he believes in himself. 

He stands from the hammock and runs. 

You’re sitting in the same tree the two of you had rested in the night you’d confided in Lo’ak, watching as the sun eclipses and begins to light up the sparkling forest.

Something rustles and you sit up, hand on the hilt of your dagger as you search the area for movement.

As your eyes lock on the source, you almost wish it had been a beast coming to devour you whole. But as Lo’ak climbs the branches of the tree quickly, you feel the dread begin to solidify in your veins. 

You take your satchel, hanging from a nearby branch and sling it over your shoulder, pulling your shawl over your head to prepare for your escape. 

“________, wait,” he chokes breathlessly. “Please.” 

You feel like crying all over again, feel so unbelievably stupid thinking that Lo’ak would ever see you the way that you see him. 

You pause a beat as he settles on the branch across from yours, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. 

Something glints in the sun and your eyes widen when you see that Lo’ak has fastened the necklace you made him around his neck, right above the the leather chain that holds his beloved claw charm. 

“You’re wearing it,” you whisper, lips twitching into a frown as you try your best to keep your tears at bay. 

“I’m sorry, ________,” Lo’ak apologizes hoarsely. “Fuck, you don’t understand how sorry I am.” 

The tears well on their own. 

We’re not friends. We never were and we never will. 

The words haunt you like a broken record and you shake your head, moving from your perch to move down the branches. 

“Wait, wait,” Lo’ak pleads. “Please don’t go, I–”

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I hate you, Lo’ak.” 

He freezes, watching as you balance on a branch below. 

“I tried so hard to be your friend,” you whimper, angrily wiping away your tears. “You’re amazing. You’re strong, and you’re fearless, and you are everything I want to be, but you’re heartless.” 

Lo’ak lets out a shuddering breath, a chill running down his spine as you look up at him like he’d smashed every star in the sky. 

“I wanted to be with you, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “I hoped that maybe if I stuck it out, you’d see how much I cared, how badly I wanted to be with you, even if it was from a distance.” 

“I do, _________, I do!” he argues. 

He hadn’t always, but he sees it now. He sees you. 

You shake your head again.

“You don’t,” you sigh, voice trembling. “It’s my fault anyways. You were right. You told me to leave you alone and I was being too much.” 

“Stop–”

“Let this be the last time,” you assure him. “Let’s just– Let’s pretend we never met.”

“No, _________. Wait!” 

You’re climbing down the tree and disappearing into the brush and, like a fleck of ash, you’re disintegrating into nothingness. 

Most people think he’s being moody, that he’s just been scolded by his father or older brother, but Neytiri knows better. 

She sees the way her son has changed over the course of the past few weeks. She knows there is a great burden that he carries, but much like her beloved and her eldest, he suffers in silence. 

“Maitan,” she says quietly, brushing a braid from his face as he folds the leaves around a chunk of steaming meat. 

Lo’ak pauses almost imperceptibly, but continues his task. 

It isn’t like him to stay home and work with Neytiri. If anything, he’d be the first one out of the tent, Tuk, Spider, and Kiri tailing after him as they galavant through the endless forest. 

“Something weighs heavy in your heart,” she tries again, hand coming over his. 

Lo’ak stops and leans back, unable to meet his mother’s searching gaze. 

“I hurt someone,” he says quietly. 

Neytiri stiffens.

“What?” 

“I hurt someone I care about,” Lo’ak admits. You’d called him fearless, strong. He needed to live by your word. “I hurt her and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“Oh, Lo’ak,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand gently. 

Her face has softened as she takes in his stony expression. 

“My son, some things cannot be fixed,” she says honestly. “But all things require great effort. Sometimes those efforts will fall through, but that is the natural order of life.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Whoever this special person is, if you have hurt her, she deserves the full effort of your heart, no?” 

You do, he knows you do. You deserve every last effort. But a niggling streak of insecurity tells him that you don’t deserve someone like him. You don’t deserve someone who takes your affections for granted. You deserve someone who will love you with every breath, who will love you fearlessly. 

“I really messed things up, Mom,” Lo’ak says quietly. “I don’t…” 

Neytiri’s hand comes to Lo’ak chest. 

“The night I first met your father, Ewya gave me sign,” she says. “He has a pure, strong heart. You do too.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Be brave, Maitan,” she says. “Sometimes that is enough.” 

Lo’ak’s fingers hurt from picking berries.

His cuticles bleed, pricked by the thorns of the fruit’s bush. Kiri hums beside him, weaving a little bag out of ropes of thin vines. 

“You’re not gonna help me?” he whines. 

“Why should I help you with your mess?” 

You look beautiful under the glow of the evening meal’s crackling fire. It’s the first time you’ve emerged since before Lo’ak’s birthday feast and you’re being flocked by elders and villagers, wishing you well and asking about your supposed ailment. 

He sits across the fire, fists tight as he searches for a lull in the crowd. 

Spider snickers next to him, devouring the contents of his plate like he’s starved, watching Lo’ak’s useless pining like a show. 

Be brave. 

He’s standing to his feet before he can back out, crossing the circle to approach you. The villagers watch like they know something he doesn’t and the nerves are eating away at him as he steps into your space. 

You look up from your conversation with a girl your age, the smile slipping from your lips. 

“Can we talk?” Lo’ak asks, eyes wandering to watch the way everyone watches him. 

You remain jaded.

“Now’s not a good time,” you say quietly and a few onlookers snicker in the background. “________,” Lo’ak tries again. 

You stare up at him, the shadow of the fire dancing over your features as you seemingly look right through him. It’s humiliating, the way you remain seated and watch him fidget, but he figures he deserves the cold shoulder after months, years of casting you to the side. 

“Let’s go?” you ask the girl, nodding your head over your shoulder. 

The girl chances a glance between you and Lo’ak, noticing the telltale sign of your work etched into the stones of the choker he hadn’t taken off since his birthday. 

She gives him a sympathetic smile as she follows after you. 

He’s going to have to try a lot harder than he has, he realizes as your birthday looms right around the corner. The next eclipse, in fact. 

He’s losing hope, losing courage, but he can’t give up on you two just yet. 

He makes sure the berries he picked the days prior are packed tightly in his bag, the lid to the nectar fastened, and his present wrapped nicely. 

It’s his last hope, his last shot to make things right. 

Spider, Tuk, and Neytiri surround him, Neteyam and Jake off on a hunt. 

They’d all been privy to the fact, aiding him in his endeavors as he organized his final grapple with your heart. 

“Kiri said she’ll bring her right before eclipse,” Spider says, peeking from the flap of the tent. “That’s in, like, minutes.” 

Lo’ak is nervous. Doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you for good, but he knows he has to give it his best effort. It’s the least you deserve. 

Be brave. Sometimes that is enough. 

Lo’ak glances at his mom and she gives him a warm smile, ruffling his braids. 

“You are the son of Toruk Makto,” she assures him, pinching his cheek. “There is nothing you cannot do.” 

The words are carved into his brain as he rushes through the forest, the the stream that the curls and bends through the forest. It glows beautifully at night and that is his final push. 

“Wait, give me like three seconds, I left something.” Kiri’s voice is muffled behind the trees. 

“Huh?” Lo’ak sees the way your head tilts through an opening in the foliage. 

“I’ll only be a second!” 

“Wait, Kiri!” 

Kiri is running straight for him, comes barreling through the bushes, and continues down the path. 

“Good luck, egghead!”

Lo’ak takes in a final breath to quell the tremor in his hands before ducking through the bushes to reveal himself. 

You’re sitting on the embankment, on a woven mat that Kiri had laid out for you two, decorative vines edging the seams. 

“Oh, you were–”

You peer over your shoulder and your expression falls. 

“Lo’ak…” 

“Happy birthday, ________,” he breathes. 

You don’t look amused, slinging your bag over you shoulder as you rise to your feet. 

“Kiri and I are hanging out,” you tell him. 

He scratches the back of his head. 

“I…I had Kiri bring you here because I knew that you wouldn’t come with me if I asked,” he admits. “And of course, I don’t blame you, but I– I just really need to talk to you.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to look him in his eyes as he draws nearer. 

“Just give me some time, please,” he pleads. 

You finally meet his gaze, searching his eyes as he looks down at you earnestly. 

You give him the tiniest nod, reluctantly shedding your satchel to reassume your seat on the mat. 

The waters rush gently, like a song as Lo’ak lowers himself next to you.

His palms are clammy as he fidgets in his seat, the scent of herbs and flowers wafting from your dewy skin. He can’t bring himself to look at you, afraid that every sentiment he’d crafted in the hours of the night will escape him, so he watches the bubbling of the stream. 

“Well?” you whisper, like you don’t want to shatter the fragile sheath of peace that layers you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know I’ve said it already, but I really am, ________.” 

“I know,” you murmur and his gaze flits to yours. “Even if you don’t act like it, you have a good heart, Lo’ak. You feel everything, even the things you don’t want to.” 

He swallows.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says carefully. “I was mad and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.” 

You sit silently, knees hugged to your chest. Your cheek rests against your knee, watching Lo’ak with seeing eyes. It makes him trip over his words. 

“My whole life, I’ve always been compared to Neteyam,” he says. “The entire village would whisper about me and how I was nothing like the mighty warrior.” 

When he glances at you, he notices your fingers twitch, like you want to reach out to him. 

He squashes his fears and turns to face you, five-fingered hand coming up to thread with your four. You watch the union, uncertainty obvious in the way you tense, but Lo’ak squeezes. 

“And then when we started growing up, you were just another person I had to live up to,” Lo’ak whispers. “You’re perfect, ________. You’re kind, and you’re smart, talented. You’re everything I’m not and it made me hate you.” 

You shrink, but Lo’ak pulls you towards him, hand coming up to brush your cheek. 

“But you’re all of that and more,” he continues, the words gushing like a river. “You’re always there, you support me and you defend me and see things I don’t.” 

You become shy under his gaze because for the first time, he’s seeing you. He’s seeing you for every single thing you’ve been to him and it makes your stomach knot. 

“I have something to tell you,” he says. “Please don’t be mad at me.” 

Your gaze is soft, palm still in his as he turns and reaches into the bag he discarded next to him. Your eyes widen when he produces your notebook, edges curled the slightest as he hands it to you. 

“My journal,” you say, taking it from him quickly. “I’ve been looking for this. Why- Why do you have it?” 

He looks guilty, lips rolling as he avoids your gaze. 

“Did you…” 

“I wasn’t going to,” he admits. “But there were woodsprites and I knew it was a s–”

“Lo’ak this is private,” you murmur incredulously. “Why would you read this?” 

“How long, ________?” he asks quietly, grip on your hand tightening. 

“Lo’ak, don’t–”

“How long?” he presses desperately. 

Your eyes are watering, like that wicked night all over again and Lo’ak begs Eywa for the final push. 

“Since we were ten,” you whisper brokenly. “It was my first performance and it was so stupid, but I was throwing up because I was nervous and you talked me through it.” 

Lo’ak is stunned, the memory like the faintest of outlines. 

“We didn’t even know each other that well,” you hiccup. “But you patted me on the back and you gave me this–”

You pull your fingers from his grasp and flip the journal to the last page, revealing a hidden pocket. Your nimble fingers pull a tattered string, the remnants of a vine, threaded with wilted flower petals, preserved from being pressed inside your notebook.

“You said that they made you make it during lessons,” you say, breath hitching. “That it’d be my good luck.” 

He’d forgotten all about the memory completely, too caught up in driving whatever wedge he could between you two, building up walls to seal you out. 

“And you kept it this whole time?” he asks, face scrunched in disbelief. 

“I’d hold on to anything you give me,” you admit in defeat. “Heartbreak included.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. 

“________, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, hand coming up to your neck. “You have to know that. I’m really fucking stupid, but if you give us a shot, I won’t mess it up.” 

Your hand comes up to his wrist, crumpling as you bow your head. 

“Don’t do this to me,” you beg, moving to break away from him. 

“Please.” 

His hold tightens, other hand twining with yours. 

“If I…if I give myself to you, I’m giving you everything,” you say hesitantly. “If you break this, you break me. I don’t think I can come back from this.” 

Lo’ak presses his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips as he searches your gaze for any semblance of hope. 

“This is me being fearless, ________,” he whispers. 

You melt, pressing your lips to his tentatively. He’s frozen for the shortest of moments before relenting, pushing up onto his knees to deepen the kiss. 

He’s cradling your face and your hands are wandering and Lo’ak can’t help but think he could get used to loving you. 

To being loved by you. 

BONUS

“I was gonna give it to you on your birthday,” Lo’ak says sheepishly a few nights later under the stars. “But, you know…” 

Your usual place among the branches of the looming trees have a lot of memories both bitter and sweet, but you suppose you could make new ones. 

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you say sweetly, tail swishing to wrap around his ankle. “You’re all I need.” 

Lo’ak doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to your saccharine words if the pounding in his chest is anything to go by. 

His hands are shaky as he pushes the hide towards you, a bow made of vine tied neatly around the gift. 

“Wanted to,” he says simply, moving the hair from you face to see your reaction better. “Open it.” 

You’re gentle with the present, like you are with most things, but eager to see what he’d gotten you. 

A tiny gasp falls from your lips when you finally see it, wide eyes meeting his as you free the jars of paints he’d mashed up, the brushes he fashioned, and the brand new journal he bound himself. 

“Lo’ak, wow…” 

“So you can paint me more,” he says, then adds timidly. “Or maybe us. Maybe you could paint us.” 

an — holy shit guys, this was such a big project for me because i really wanted to dive into so many different things in this fic. to everyone who was waiting patiently, thank you sososo much. as usual, i took a lot of creative liberties with this one, but i hope you guys enjoyed nonetheless! although requests are paused for me to catch up, like always, if you wanna chat with me about literally anything, my askbox is open. lots of love hehehe :) xx

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neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn

[magicalbats]

Kinktober Day 8: Dottore & Pantalone x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 4652

Warnings: Afab!reader, cat girl reader, body horror elements, mentions of genetic modification & surgery, pet play, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, fucking machine

A/N: As always anything I write for the Harbinger's tends to skew towards the dark so be mindful of the tags, everyone! Also this is why I need them to hurry up and release more content that features Pantalone, I could not find a pic where these two were photoshopped together lmao

⭐

Sometimes Dottore finds himself wondering why he even bothered creating you in the first place. 

It’s certainly not so he can watch you shamelessly rub up against Pantalone’s legs in a supplicating gesture for attention — the exact same attention you regularly eschewed when it was coming from him — nor was it so he could continuously find tufts of your fur caught on all of his clothes. Even the ones he’d never worn around you were mysteriously inundated with the clinging hairs, which was particularly remarkable given how little fur you actually had on your body. 

Pondering this conundrum, he doesn’t immediately notice that Pantalone is speaking again until something he says jolts the doctor out of his thoughts. 

“What did you just say?” 

The bespectacled man sitting across from him on the spacious sofa in Dottore’s office tips his head in a curious manner, although the arguably polite smile on his face never so much as falters. “Hm? I was just commenting on how friendly your pet has recently become. I seem to recall her being quite skittish not all that long ago.” 

Humming a curt sound of acknowledgment, Dottore shoots you a quick look. 

You peer right back at him from your spot curled up on the floor at Pantalone’s feet, your cheek pressed into the carefully ironed line of his dark pant leg. Something about the way you meet his gaze despite the barrier of his hook beaked mask standing in the way speaks of an audacity that almost manages to irritate him. It was the sort of gall only a cat could embody, either by nature or through an inflated sense of superiority that was rarely ever warranted. 

But if he’d wanted a pet that would cower and look at him with blind obedience rather than silent, judgmental contempt then he should have used a dog to genetically modify you into existence instead. 

What’s done was already done though, so there wasn’t any point in lingering on it unnecessarily. Lifting his attention, Dottore looks over at his fellow Harbinger again. “I can see that. But what did you say afterward? I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch it, or perhaps my ears are simply playing tricks on me.” 

“Ah, that.” Relenting with a soft chuckle, Pantalone reaches down to idly pet over your head. The faint vibration of a purr rises up as you tip into the indulgent motion, ears twitching eagerly in demand of more scritches. “I just made a joke that perhaps it was getting to be that time of year for her. I’m never quite sure what any of your miraculous experiments are capable of though, so perhaps that doesn’t apply here?” 

Lifting a thoughtful hand to his chin, Dottore turns that over for all of half a second. “No, there's every possibility that she’ll still be susceptible to the same biological cues as her feline counterparts. I didn’t omit any of the genetic hard coding for that when I spliced her together but I also didn’t go out of my way to include it either. It’s hard to say for sure right this moment but …” 

He sends you another considering glance but this time you’re much too distracted by Pantalone’s hand and the way it’s rubbing at the spot just behind your conically pointed ears to notice him looking you over. By his estimate you were very close to being evenly split between the two halves, which was just as he’d wanted it. Neither a simple girl who could bore him to death with an endless stream of prattling nor a true cat that would easily expire under his care. In truth he’d initially wanted to use you as a personal assistant after spending a few dozen decades with only his own clones for company. 

Unfortunately you’d proven to be just a bit too simple for him to trust with sharp pointy objects and he’d had to give up on the idea quickly enough. He still recognized that you weren’t completely without worth though, medical marvel that you were, and looking at you now … he’d take a guess that there was about a fifty-fifty chance you’d inherited a cat's natural mating drive and all that came with it. 

The thought intrigues him a great deal more than he would have expected it to. Certainly this was a rather foolish endeavor to undertake when he compared it to all of the other projects and experiments he wanted to dabble in, but for an afternoon dalliance this didn’t sound too terribly lackluster. 

Allowing his mouth to curl into a brief smile, Dottore lifts his attention to fix back on Pantalone again. “What a fascinating idea, Regrator. Are you quite certain you have no interest in science?” 

Pantalone tips his head again, but in a rather quizzical manner this time. “Ah? I’m afraid I can’t claim to have the same aptitude for such pursuits as you do, Doctor. I’m sure I’d be nothing but a hindrance in your search for answers.” 

“Oh, that’s just not true at all. Almost anyone can fill the role of assistant, at least, and I see a wealth of untapped potential in you on top of that. You’re of a sharp mind to match that sharp tongue of yours.”

“You flatter me greatly, Doctor.” 

Eager and grinning, Dottore shifts to the edge of his high backed chair and leans forward to brace his forearms across his knees, bringing the hands together in a loose clasp. 

“You.” He intones, earning a languid glance from you, though it’s obvious you were still far more interested in his colleague than in him. No matter though. He would correct that soon enough. “Come over here kitten, and I suggest you do not dawdle.” 

For a moment it looks like you’re simply going to ignore him in the proficient way cats do where they give no sign at all of having heard their masters bidding and simply go about their business as usual. Luckily for you, however, the human part of your brain has enough reasoning and cognitive abilities to understand the imperative nature of an order, and you reluctantly push away from Pantalone to get on your hands and knees. 

Deliberately slow, you crawl closer to him across the floor with a wary look on your face and your long tail flickering stiffly behind you to indicate your displeasure at having been summoned away from the banker. Such an obvious display of clear disrespect would have been enough for just about anyone else to win themselves a rather unfortunate end at his hands, but Dottore was well acquainted with the physiological behaviors of felines. The fact you were coming to him at all was a small testament to his unmatched abilities as a scientist. 

Of course he would’ve liked you to be a bit more intelligent but, he supposed, that was his own fault for choosing a cat rather than something more inclined towards cleverness. A raven, perhaps, would have been the better choice. As long as he issued orders that were short and to the point you understood him well enough though, and he feels a sharp smile pulling at his mouth now as you come to kneel before him. 

Reaching out, Dottore places a gloved palm on top of your head, flattening your ears before dragging it down across your neck and back. The way you shirk and dramatically hunch your spine inward under the pressure assures him you don’t like the rough handling very much — but then he reaches the base of your tail and you promptly tip forward to jut your ass up in the air, nudging against his hand. From his elevated position over you he can see your claws coming out to prick into the rug and pull at the woven fibers but he allows it for the time being. It was a promising sign, at least. 

“Does that feel good, my little experiment? You look like you’re enjoying being rubbed here.” 

You issue a low, vibrating sound that human vocal cords probably shouldn’t be able to make, tail arching up and over in plain invitation. He hadn’t ever thought to toy with you in this manner before, but after seeing how receptive you were to this sort of touch he was very tempted to make it a regular part of your role here. You weren’t doing much of anything else except getting fur on all of his clothes, after all. 

“That is quite interesting, isn’t it?” Pantalone murmurs, leaning forward as well to get a better look at the scene playing out before him. “Aside from the paws she looks so human. I wouldn’t have expected to see this kind of reaction from her.” 

“I don’t think it’s too surprising. The base of the tail has a veritable smorgasbord of receptive nerve endings which naturally feeds into the nervous system of the surrounding areas. The lower half of her spine is likely a sensitive hotspot as well, and of course that includes the genitals too by proxy. By the way, did you know,” Keeping his tone light and conversational, Dottore drags his hand lower past your twitching tail to idly rub his fingers along the center seam of the bloomers he was nice enough to let you wear. “Even humans had a tail at one time and we still carry the vestigial leftover to this day in the form of a dormant tailbone, so the anatomy was already there. I just filled in the blanks on her genetic genome to … encourage the development of this specific appendage a little bit.” 

And it had been a resounding success. 

Sadly the same could not be said for your feet. The human leg simply was not built the same way as a cats, and the backwards curve of your hind paws did not lend itself well to upright locomotion. You preferred to crawl as a result, occasionally going up on all fours to move quickly, but this too seemed to give you some amount of discomfort when the joint mobility simply wasn’t there. If he’d deemed you to be well equipped for working as his assistant he would have gone through the trouble of performing surgery to try and fix the mistake in your physical deformity but it hadn’t seemed necessary after he’d realized how dull you actually were. 

Besides that, it also made it that much easier to keep track of where you were at any given time when you could neither flee nor navigate anything more arduous than a flat surface without causing a great commotion. You couldn’t even successfully manage any of the doorknobs in his wing of the palace when the paws where human hands should have been were completely bereft of opposable thumbs. This meant you were effectively trapped without him having to do much of anything to ensure you couldn’t escape, and sometimes he found himself half convinced that this was the only reason he hadn’t disposed of you much earlier. 

Dottore was rather glad for his own generosity on the matter though while he pets over your cunt through the thin layer of cotton to make you enthusiastically squirm at his feet. There isn’t an ounce of shame in the way you arch your back to better present yourself to him and neither did you seem all that concerned about the audience you had watching the flagrant animal display. And Pantalone, for his part in this as little more than a bystander, seemed rather fascinated with observing the curious scene. 

That was why the two of them got on so well with one another. Even if he didn’t have any particular talents for scientific pursuit, the banker still recognized ingenuity and progress when he saw it. 

And as he peers down at you, observing the hopeful shake of your hips when you rear back on his hand, Dottore comes to the conclusion that now was as good a time as any to test the hypothesis forming in the back of his mind. He could guess at how the genetic marriage between human and cat would affect you on a physical level, but testing it first hand was always his preferred method. 

Of course he doesn’t give you any warning before he does it, simply removing his gloved fingers from between your legs, and you immediately noise a displeased sound into the room. Your claws come out in earnest now to tug fitfully at the rug even as you crane your head around to glance up at him. The expression on your face seemed to suggest you were very offended that he would take away your source of pleasure, and he grins at the sharp flick of your agitated tail. 

“Oooh, don’t be upset. I’ll give you more of what you want as soon as you properly ask me for it.” 

Rumbling a brief sound of annoyance, you insistently nudge your ass at him but Dottore momentarily stays his hand, deciding to merely watch what you’ll do instead. 

And you don’t disappoint, your impatience showing in the way your ears twitch back against your skull as you push your upper body up from the floor. Just sitting there for a moment, you seem to think it over before the temptation proves too great and you lean heavily into his leg to rub your body against him in a coaxing manner. Now it was Dottore who you were all but plastering yourself to, and he can’t help the laugh that rises in his chest. 

“I’d almost say my feelings were hurt.” Pantalone murmurs, though the ever present note of vague amusement in his voice remains. 

“Yes, she’s certainly easy to win over, isn’t she?” 

Not even trying to hide his satisfaction, Dottore allows his mouth to pull into a sharp toothed smile as he reaches back down again. You give a placating little mewl when you realize his hand is coming near but he just nudges your hip off him with an indelicate push so he can grab at the band of your bloomers. With one good tug, he has them rolled down over your ass to pool in the bends of your knees, exposing your bare cunt to the cool air. 

A faint shudder works down your spine, tail flickering somehow more aggressively than before, but even now there isn’t so much as a hint of reticence in your body language. Had you been nothing more than a frail, stupid girl, he was sure you would have been wailing at him to stop while you tried to cover yourself. And if you were just a regular cat, well … he wouldn’t have had any such interest in your biological behaviors to begin with were that the case. 

But you were a unique specimen and a highly interesting one at that, even if the end result of your creation hadn’t quite met his expectations. So he finds himself almost bordering on giddy eagerness when he directs his hand between your legs again where he softly pets over the fleshy crease of your body. The purring immediately starts up again, verbalizing your pleasure for him as you slowly start to press your chest down to the floor in another supplicating arch.  

“I’d wager that must feel rather nice, doesn’t it? And to think you usually want nothing to do with me. Such a pity.” 

Gradually, Dottore increases the pressure of his gloved fingers until he can feel the meaty seam starting to squish and spread under his ministrations. The direct contact against your clit makes you shudder fiercely in response, mewling a heated sound into the carpet when you press your face into it. And your tail just keeps flicking back and forth in its upright position while he caresses over you, clearly pleased with his cooperation but still impatient for the building tension in your body to reach its tipping point. 

But he doesn’t want to give you that satisfaction just yet so he pulls his hand away when your breathing starts to deepen, indicating that you were getting close. Once again you mewl an unhappy sound and shake your ass demandingly at him to no avail. He merely brings his hands together between his knees and watches you fitfully squirm on the floor, enjoying the shameless display far more than he expected to. 

“I’m certain you can do a better job of asking for it than that. How about you try again?” Dottore coos at you, earning himself a brief chuckle from his colleague. 

“You’re a cruel one, Doctor. It’s not nice to tease her like that, is it?” 

“I’m sure she’ll get over it.” 

Chittering a poor little sound, you stiffly push up onto your hands and knees again and try rubbing against his leg much like the first time. When that doesn’t work though you become all the more antsy, twisting your bloomers up around your legs when you start to pace back and forth, yet you don’t stop long enough to kick them off. Evidently you were much too focused on the current state of your cunt to give it much thought, and Dottore intently watches when you finally shift towards Pantalone as if suddenly remembering he was there at all. 

It’s obvious that you’re thinking about it, toying with the notion of seeking out his assistance instead and weighing the odds. He would have easily guessed you’d try your luck with the banker since you seemed to like him more anyway. To his mild pang of surprise though you decide to beseech your master once more, turning to point your cunt at him before jutting your ass up in a clear offering. 

The tender plush of your body inspires a slow twitch of his cock, his lower stomach curling in anticipation of sinking himself into that tight little clutch between your thighs. That was, perhaps, an activity for later, if he found you to be worth the effort that it would entail, and preferably not when Pantalone was watching with that eternally placid smile on his face. 

“Well, that’s better I suppose.” 

Reaching out for you again, Dottore takes just a moment to savoringly nudge at your clit with his thumb to make you purr in appreciation. Then he moves his hand higher, easily locating your entrance at the epicenter of all the sticky slick coming out of you where he somewhat rudely bullies a long finger into your pussy. You noise a startled sound of pleasure in response but rather than trying to escape from the sudden penetration you stiffly push back on it. 

Mewling rather excitedly now, you swivel your hips to grind yourself on the intrusion. Even through his glove he can feel your walls enthusiastically squeezing him, trying to suck him in deeper despite his knuckle pressing flush to your labia with nowhere else to go. 

“Insatiable thing.” 

“Do you suppose she’s really gone into heat then?” Pantalone queries across from him, prompting Dottore to hum in thought. 

“I’ll have to examine her hormone levels later to know for certain, but given how very hot she’s internally running I wouldn’t be surprised.” He can feel that through the barrier of leather as well, your body temperature so high it seems to him that you’re burning up. 

The stretch to your inner sleeve clearly comes as a great relief even for as slight as it is though, so he kindly squeezes a second finger in with the first to put more pressure on your puffed up, gummy walls. You outright keen at the addition as you fuck yourself back on his hand, pussy softly clicking in time with the restless motion. 

But it’s not near enough to fully ease the ache deep within you and whatever reprieve his fingers had provided quickly appears to wear off. You get antsy and fidgety again, impatiently trying to take Dottore’s fingers harder, faster to no avail. Whining a low sound of growing distress, you finally dig your back paws into the rug and push up to brace in a true mounting position that begged for him to oblige and fuck you sensless. 

“Goodness,” Pantalone murmurs, his usual brand of faux, crooning concern heavy in his voice. “I almost find myself pitying the poor thing. Isn’t there something you can do for her, Doctor?” 

He turns that over for a brief moment while he idly thrusts his fingers in and out of your sloppy cunt, twisting his wrist to ensure he would hit the sensitive nerve cluster on the other side of your upper wall. You clearly appreciate it, given how loudly you keen in obvious pleasure, but it still wasn’t enough. 

“Hm. I think I might have something for her but I’ll have to go fetch it. Keep an eye on her for a moment, won’t you?” 

Pantalone’s head comes up at the same time yours does, but for two completely different reasons. While it was clear his fellow Harbinger was just surprised at what he’d said, you were dismayed by the sudden loss of his fingers when he withdraws them with a sticky wet slurp. And you don’t even make an attempt to hide it as you pathetically whine and meow at him as he moves to stand up, completely ignoring you now in favor of wiping his glove off on a handkerchief procured from his coat pocket. 

“It will only take me but a moment. Entertain her however you see fit.” He intones before turning on his heel to step out of the office without giving either of you a chance to question or otherwise pester him any further about it. 

A quick stroll down the corridor to his lab plus a few minutes spent locating the specific machine he wanted is all it takes for him to have what he needs. He’s rather pleased at his own genius to have thought of something like this and on such short notice too, and he was eager to get back to test it. In fact, he almost catches himself humming a light tune along the way. 

And he’s not at all surprised to find you curled up in Pantalone’s lap when he returns with the adjustable piston tucked in the bend of his arm. He had a few guesses at how you’d managed to weasel your way into that position, particularly when you peer over at him like a disparaged orphan who’s had to seek out the comfort of strangers on the streets. How very typical of a cat, he decides as the banker glances up from where he’d been softly petting over your cunt in his stead. 

“And what is this curious device?” He ventures with an accompanying quirk of his brow. 

“This is nothing more than a simple piston. Not very exciting on its own, I’m afraid, and if I had the time right now I’m sure I could make a much better attachment for it. But something tells me our little kitty here won’t be too picky about what ultimately gives her what she wants.” 

Practically leering under his mask, Dottore moves to set up the machine on the floor between his chair and the sofa. The long metal base is sufficiently heavy to act as a counterweight for the moving rod so he doesn’t need to worry about it unbalancing while he makes quick work of simply adjusting the angle. From his peripheral he can see you warily watching him the whole time from the safety of Pantalone’s lap but when he calls for you to come over you slide down to the floor without a fuss. 

It was remarkable how quickly you’d warmed up to him after just having your pussy fingered a little bit and he makes a mental note of that as you shuffle over to inspect the device. 

“Turn around.” He commands, gesturing what he wants you to do with his hand. 

Giving an agitated flick of your tail, you comply with this too, further solidifying his suspicions that you were indeed quite easy to manipulate when needed. It was hard to say if you truly understood what was about to happen but the wet cunt you bare at him assures Dottore you wouldn’t have any complaints about it. And he can’t help but notice that Pantalone must have removed your bloomers for you while he was gone as they were now nowhere in sight. Good. 

Bending at the waist, he takes hold of your hips to pull you back and position the center of your body directly in front of the waiting, smooth ended bar. He would have liked to use something that was better suited for you but it was the best he could do on such short notice. And you rumble a low sound of warning at his manhandling, flicking a sharp look at him over your shoulder which he mollifies with a saccharine, condescending coo. 

“There, there. This should have you sorted out in no time. You’ll probably be pestering me to bring it out for you again if my hunch is correct.” 

Keeping you in place with one hand, he reaches down with the other to guide the bar to your entrance. You give a startled jolt at the touch of cool metal, a new tension running through your shuddering frame, but it quickly shifts towards deep felt relief when he nudges you back to take it inside. Watching your pussy slowly stretch and open up around the foreign object fills him with a particular sort of satisfaction that makes his cock eagerly stir again. It had been a very long time since he last felt so compelled by the human body. 

Well, in this case it was human-cat, wasn’t it? 

“Oh my.” Pantalone softly breathes out, intently watching the same thing with a great deal of plain faced interest. 

Dottore chuckles a heady sound under his breath while he reaches down to hit the button on the side of the machine that makes it whir to life. With a faintly groaning chug, the piston slowly starts to move in a sluggish thrust but it immediately seems to have your attention for as slight as it is. 

Your impatient wriggling promptly stops, tail curiously flicking up while you simply kneel there through the first full motion of the pump action. Gradually the bar slides deeper into you until it reaches the end of its allotted length before withdrawing with a viscous sheen of arousal coating it now. Evidently pleased with the sensation, you shift slightly on the floor to better accept the next push of the machine and Dottore outright laughs at the appreciative purr that quickly starts up. 

“Looks like I was right. You don’t care what it is as long as it’s stuffing you full, eh? Such a shameless beast I have on my hands.” 

“It’s not entirely without its charm.” Pantalone chimes in. 

“No,” He agrees, reaching back down to turn the knob that controls the speed. “It’s not.” 

All but preening in self satisfaction, Dottore straightens up and walks over to his chair where he sits down to watch the show. The machine groans a little louder with the speed increase, rumbling softly on the floor as it works your pussy over on an endless, tireless effort that has you hungrily mewling into the air. 

It may not have been what he’d created you for but it was certainly entertaining in its own right. And although he was sure to grow bored with it eventually, because he always did, for the time being at least he was quite content to listen to your messy cunt greedily suck at the piston with each and every steady thrust it takes into your body. 

Perhaps when the time came and he no longer had any use for you, he’d give you to Pantalone as a gift.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[lotusbxtch]

SoCal to NorCal: Chapter 2

Series Masterlist Chapter 1: Malibu

Series Pairing: husband!Joel Miller x f!Reader x boyfriend!Frankie Morales Series Summary: Joel is your rock, and Frankie is your ocean. So what happens when you bring the three of you together? - or - you and Frankie roadtrip up from Southern California to Northern California so he can meet Joel. A polyamory fic. This series exists in the Triple Frontier universe and is a Joel Miller AU/Triple Frontier AU. Series Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter 2: Highway 101 & Beyond

Chapter Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader x Joel Miller

Chapter Summary: As you road trip north, you and Frankie struggle to voice your growing feelings for each other. Joel suggests something surprising, and the three of you unexpectedly explore new territory together.

Word Count: 8.7k

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter Warnings/Tags: polyamory, phone sex, video sex, masturbation (f and m), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V (wrap it up pls!), multiple orgasms, creampie, cum kink, cum eating, there’s a lot of cum lol i’m sorry in advance if that’s not your thing, squirting, slight size kink, mentions of food, mentions of Frankie’s young daughter named Isabella, mentions of drug addiction and recovery, gratuitous descriptions of male and female anatomy, she/her pussy pronouns, heavy use of Spanish pet names/nicknames, Frankie the PEK, Joel’s filthy mouth is absolutely its own warning, idiots in love, a splash of angst, soft!Joel but also menace!Joel because we love a man with duality, Reader uses she/her pronouns, Reader is able-bodied, has breasts, and has hair that can be pulled, otherwise no description of Reader's skin color, size, body shape, hair color, eye color, or ethnicity, no use of y/n. Everyone is testing negative for STDs and Reader is on birth control.

a/n: The road trip continues! I’m so excited to dive more into Frankie and Reader’s relationship, and I KNOW you all have been waiting for Joel to get into the mix. Well, buckle up buttercups, because he is about to be THE BIGGEST MENACE lmao. A deeply grateful thank you to my darling @for-a-longlongtime, who encourages me every day, helped me massively flesh out some of the more emotional aspects of the chapter, and who I talk to almost every day, in addition to being my beta reader. Thank you @mountainsandmayhem, @alltheirdamn , and @mermaidgirl30 for screaming with me about these three when I shared excerpts with you. And thank you to everyone for being patient with me while I got this written up between huge life events (both good and bad)! Dividers & banners by the amazing @saradika-graphics, thank you. (Please note that the chapter graphic is NOT meant to be accurate to Reader — vibes only!)

If you enjoy my writing, please leave a comment, feedback or reblog! It would mean the world to me. Thank you!

You’re so happy.

After your short but memorable stay with Santiago, you and Frankie have been on the road, spending the last few days leisurely meandering up Highway 1 towards San Francisco. You take turns driving, playing car DJ, and sightseeing as you travel north. Tanned feet on the dash, chaste kisses to the back of hands while driving, a shifting playlist between your differing musical tastes. Nights spent snuggled up in a rental or hotel room, playing 20 Questions or “Would You Rather”, kisses turning into intertwining of limbs, labored breath and fingers gripping bed sheets, the murmuring of each other’s names like prayers. 

In Ojai, you drank a little too much wine at the tasting room and biked back to the hotel with wobbly legs. Hearst Castle landed on your list for the formerly-captive-now-wild zebras (you) and to gawk at “ridiculously rich people shit” (Frankie). Ocean kayaking amongst the sea otters and sea lions in Morro Bay filled both of you with wonder. Frankie let you lead him into every little boutique shop that called your name, contentedly trailing behind you while you browsed.

Wherever you were, Frankie indulged your sweet tooth by sniffing out the best artisan ice cream shops. One time during a playful debate, you bopped your frozen treat to Frankie’s nose, giggling at his surprised expression and kissing the sticky-sweet remnants off of him before he picked you up over his shoulder. Your shrieks of joy ricocheted off the small town street until he tossed you in the backseat of his Jeep and crawled in after you, demanding a taste of something sweeter. Before you knew it, you were moaning and sighing under Frankie’s ministrations in an abandoned parking lot. The sight of his messy curls between your thighs as he lapped at your core propelled you into a stratosphere of pleasure. 

The next morning, you continued your road trip north and stopped in Santa Cruz to experience the boardwalk since Frankie had never been. Sun-drenched wood slats under your feet, the crisp, briny breeze cooling your exposed skin. You and Frankie meander slowly, eating chocolate dipped soft serve cones and curly fries, hopping onto the slightly rickety carnival rides, including the famous wooden (and creaky) Giant Dipper roller coaster. (“This thing can’t be structurally sound if it’s making all that noise,” Frankie muttered, but you still got him to get on.)

Adrenaline trickling through your veins, giddy with endorphins from the coaster, you and Frankie debate who had the best strategy for the carousel’s metal ring toss game. “You can’t just huck it like a ninja star,” he gripes about your approach, shaking his head with a smile. “You have to finesse and time it, and throw it like a frisbee so it floats in.”

“I swear, I was way closer than you were,” you shoot back. “I’ve had my whole life to perfect my technique. One of my rings hit the clown’s mouth! More than I can say about your attempts.” You stick your tongue out at Frankie, and he rolls his eyes playfully. Neither of you had set off the lights and buzzers that indicated a successful throw. He’s about to point this out when his phone trills.

Pulling it out of his pocket, his eyebrows knit together a bit before answering. “Mamá,” Frankie says into the phone, “Que pasa? Is something wrong?” He had dropped off Isabella with her for the duration of the road trip, his mother always eager to have “girl time” with her only grandchild. 

“No, no, mijo,” she responds, “Estámos bien. Isa is napping. I just wanted to call you and see how your vacation is going. You work so hard, you deserve to have this time to yourself!”

Frankie breaths a small sigh of relief. “Oh, okay, good. Well, I’ve gotta keep it short. We’re out here on the pier.”

“ ‘WE?’ ” you suddenly hear screeching out of the phone, her tone ecstatic. “Who are you with? Oh my goodness, are you with that girl?” 

Frankie winces, holding the phone away from his ear as you chuckle. “Yes, mamá,” Frankie responds, “the woman I told you about. You don’t need to yell.” He looks at you, a blush slowly creeping up his face, a sheepish smile on his lips. He mouths “five minutes” while walking towards the side of the walkway. Nodding your head with a smile, you whisper, “take your time,” and kiss his cheek, settling on a bench nearby but out of earshot of the conversation, allowing Frankie his privacy. 

“Oh, mijo, that’s wonderful!” his mother exclaims. “When do I get to meet her?”

Frankie huffs out a laugh. “Mamá, relax. You will get to meet her in time. We’re not quite there yet.”

“What are you waiting for? Haven’t you been together for a few months now?”

“Yes, but…” Frankie trails off, not quite sure his mother can handle a full explanation of your situation. Honestly, as he thinks about it, he isn’t even 100% sure what to call the two of you anymore. “It’s complicated,” he says simply.

The both of you agreed to enjoy what you had with no expectations. But “no expectations” changed over the days, weeks, months to become a desire to be around each other more days than not. Visits in the dead of night became dates during the day, morphing into waking up in each other’s arms, eating breakfast together over the weekends, bedhead and sleepy eyes and warm smiles. He thinks about the way you make him laugh, head thrown back, with his whole chest. He thinks about your playful debates, the way you tease him when he loses to you in Mario Kart. He thinks about the way you writhe under, on top of, beside him as he draws pleasure from your body again and again, your moans and gasps creating the prettiest song he’s ever heard. Frankie thinks about your soul, your heart, your innate goodness, and then he thinks about how he can’t possibly deserve any more than you already give him, despite him realizing more every day that he can’t imagine his life without you.

Frankie’s mother clears her throat on the other end of the line, and he snaps back to the present moment.

“Francisco,” she says softly. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. Just tell her how you feel, and see where it takes you. If she's as special as you say she is, you're going to regret not saying anything.”

Frankie looks down at his boots, and then back at you. You smile at him from the bench, your sundress fluttering slightly in the breeze. “Mamá, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“If you want something, Francisco, go for it. I always told you that you need to be more confident in yourself.” Frankie’s mother sighs affectionately. “You have done so much for your career, for Isabella… you have more than made up for your transgressions, mijito. Do this one thing for yourself. Take the risk.”

He thinks back to the beginning of your relationship, when he said he didn’t want anything serious because he was focusing on his career and his daughter. Not only was he in a stable job with room for upward movement, and becoming the father that Isabella deserved, it was because of you that he was able to achieve his goals. You’ve always supported him, encouraged him, and given him reality checks when he needed it. Not once have you asked for more in the relationship, but he never felt like you had to. He was willing to give you that and so much more. He was nearly certain that you felt the same way about having each other as a more permanent part of your lives, but without ever asking the question directly, he couldn’t be certain that it wasn’t just all in his head.

Frankie swallows thickly. “You’re right,” he acquiesces. “I’ll talk to her soon, when the moment is right. I don’t want to lose her.”

His mother coos sweetly at him. “Now that’s the son I know and love! I’ll let you go have fun with your lady. I love you, Frankie.”

“I love you too, Mamá,” Frankie whispers, and then ends the call. 

You’re people watching at the boardwalk as Frankie approaches you from behind, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. There’s no surprise triggered by his arms around you, just a calm ease and warmth. He presses kisses into your hair and sighs deeply. Tipping your head to the side, you return the kisses up his arm and rub his knuckles with your thumbs.

“How’s your mamá?” you ask. 

“Good,” Frankie responds, “just checking in to make sure I was having fun on my vacation.” A sheepish grin blooms on his face. “Sorry you had to hear her scream about you.”

You snicker as you stand up from the bench. “Nah, it wasn’t my ear she yelled into… But I didn’t mind at all. It’s sweet how she checks up on you.”

He grins, lifting his cap briefly to run his fingers through his hair. “She knows how hard I’ve been working to make things right with my job, and with Isabella, and she’s been pushing me to take some time off.” He sighs, looking off into the distance, and you know him well enough to know he’s doubtful of his progress.

“You deserve it, Frankie,” you murmur to him, lacing your fingers with his. You both start strolling along the boardwalk again, Frankie looking deeply in thought. “You’re always so hard on yourself, and at the very least, you deserve some time off.”

Glancing over at him, your breath catches. Frankie’s already staring at you, curls wild in the sea breeze, brown eyes warm and sparkling. Suddenly your chest feels like it’s cracked open, warm and aching. You feel the spark in your heart, and you realize that your feelings may be more than a simple affection. You search Frankie’s eyes and you can see a steady hidden layer under the warmth of his gaze as he lifts your joined hands to his lips, kissing them softly. It makes your heart do somersaults, the deeper unspoken emotions that flickered across his irises. A deep devotion that tugs at your soul.

He deserves the world.

Frankie huffs a laugh, dropping his gaze. “Everyone seems to tell me that. Guess I should stop being so damn stubborn and start believing them.” You continue walking, Frankie swinging your hands between the two of you as you settle into comfortable silence.

This is more than lust and companionship, you think to yourself. The way he looks at you, touches you with such reverence. It goes deeper than respect and fondness. Only Joel had ever given you butterflies and yet here you are, a fluttering in your gut, foreign but familiar. But what does that mean for you and Joel? 

Can your heart love two people at once?

Whoa…. wait, “love”??

You push the thoughts away with a shake of your head, determined to be present in the moment with Frankie. Bumping gently into his shoulder to get his attention, you flash him a smile.

“Wanna see which one of us can win first at the dime toss game?” you ask Frankie, and his eyes crinkle at the corners the way you love so much when he smiles in return, his competitive streak flaring.

“Sweetness, I thought you’d never ask. Prepare to lose.”

After you absolutely demolish Frankie at the dime toss (he swears they rigged the bowls he was aiming for), you and Frankie hit the road towards the cute cottage you’d booked for the night. Among the draws was its proximity to good food while being simultaneously off the beaten path. You were dying to try the seafood restaurant nearby, which was recommended to Frankie by one of his coworkers.

Per usual for the northern California coast, the fog began to roll in from the beach, casting ghostly tendrils across the road. Fog was one of the things you missed most about home while in SoCal, where it was a rarity. You roll up the windows and flip on your seat heater with a content sigh, then drape your body over the center console to grab your oversized cardigan from the back. The move makes your short dress hike further up your thighs as you reach for the soft knit. Frankie glances in the rearview mirror, spotting a flash of the curve of your ass where it peeks out of your panties. The sight has him already hardening in his pants. A quiet groan rises from his throat involuntarily, and you smirk, knowing exactly what he’s reacting to. 

“God, hermosa, that fucking dress,” Frankie grits. “I’ve been half hard all day seeing you in it.” You say nothing, but look over at him, your smirk growing bigger as you recline the seat a bit more and stretch your body just so, making the light blue eyelet lace material ride higher up your thighs, which you spread lasciviously. 

“Oh?” you tease. “What are you going to do about it?” You see Frankie’s eyes flash with desire for a moment, but he works hard to keep his cool.

His hand inches up your inner thigh while he drives, teasing swirls with his fingertips across your soft skin. You pant quietly, your breasts heaving gently against the low, curved neckline, and bite back a whimper as more arousal pools in your cotton underwear. “Take off your panties,” Frankie gently commands.

Dragging the material down your hips and legs, you let your thighs part for him, inviting his touch. Frankie keeps his eyes on the road, calmly navigating towards a quiet backroad. His focused demeanor is a lie though; his increasingly rapid breathing is a dead giveaway. When his fingers brush against your drenched folds, he groans and grips the wheel tighter with his driving hand.

“Fuck, baby,” Frankie grits out. “You’re so fucking wet for me already.” His nimble fingers explore you, spreading the slick around, swiping a soft circle around the pearl of your clit. He plays with you, and you start to writhe. A smirk blooms on his face as he clocks your movement. Frankie loves teasing you like this, drawing things out until you buckle under the pressure of your mounting desires. But the throbbing of his cock and your soft mewling sounds are making him desperate. 

Frankie pulls the car over to a small lot connected to an overlook, its parking spaces empty since the vista point is shrouded in fog. Trees block the view of your parking spot to traffic on the road. He throws the car in park, ripping his seatbelt off, and pulls your face to his for a passionate kiss. Swallowing your moans with his lips, Frankie tangles his tongue with yours while his fingers grip the base of your skull. 

“You’re killing me with this slutty little sundress,” he pants, sliding his hand down to cup your naked sex. 

You let out a strangled cry. “Frankie, I need you.”

Frankie shushes you gently. “Get in the back, nenita. I’ve got you.” You comply, scrambling over the center console and pushing your back up against the door, legs spreading wide and fingers tracing your glistening folds. He feels like he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t get his mouth on you in the next twenty seconds. He gets out of the front seat, yanking open the driver’s side back door and shutting it behind him after he slides in towards you.

“Gonna suck on that sweet little clit of yours ‘til you scream,” Frankie growls as he crawls towards your body, pushing your knees further towards your torso so you’re opened up lewdly for him. He slides his middle and ring fingers into his mouth to wet them, slipping them out and immediately burying them to the second knuckle in your soft cunt. A high-pitched whine is ripped from your throat.

“Frankie!” you whine, eyebrows furrowing together as you lock eyes with him. The mocha richness of his eyes has given way to pits of nearly black desire, and he keeps them on you while he presses his tongue flat to your swollen clit. Your eyes roll back and you nearly scream in pleasure. 

“That’s it, baby, I’m gonna make you come so hard,” he murmurs into your drenched folds, and then buries his face into you. You weave your fingers into his fluffy curls, opening your eyes to watch him at work.

Frankie’s eyes slip closed as he rhythmically pumps his thick fingers in and out of your pussy, curving them slightly up to hit that magical spot you can never quite reach the same way as he does. He sucks your hardened clit into his mouth, nestling it between the cleft of his lower lip and an almost imperceptible divot in the center of his tongue. That sweet, talented tongue swirls in precise tiny circles with the perfect pressure, while continuing to suckle exactly how you like it. Joel may go down on you like nobody’s business, but Frankie has cunnilingus nearly down to a science. At this point, he knows the exact series of moves to bring you to orgasm, and how long it takes really just depends on how long he feels like eating pussy that day. Sometimes, he’ll lay with his face between your legs for hours.

And right now? Frankie seems to want to break his own record for how fast he can get you to come.

Within seconds, you feel your orgasm gathering in your muscles. The tight shimmer of pleasure reverberates across your skin, in your bones, through every cell in your body, suspended in time, just waiting for a release. Frankie feels you tightening on his fingers, and you swear you feel him smirk against your slick folds. He keeps going, never faltering his movements, as the feeling inside you builds.

“Frankie,” you whine again, your body starting to shake. It shouldn't be physically possible for him to get you there so fast, and yet you feel that bowstring drawing impossibly tense in your body. “Frankie, I’m gonna… I’m so….” you keen, high-pitched, your chest heaving fast. Frankie moans against your folds, pressing just a bit harder with his fingers, crooking them just right, and sucks your clit hard.

You’re lucky that the area is truly secluded, because the scream tearing out of your throat as you shatter in ecstasy is loud. Your thighs lock around Frankie’s head as he moans deeply into your pussy, drawing out your orgasm expertly. Slick weeps from your cunt, soaking his lips and chin, and he slurps down every drop. He slows and gentles his ministrations on your core until he feels your thighs relax. Pulling back, he gives your folds one last kiss before he moves up your body to hover over your face, admiring the flush lighting up your features. Frankie kisses you gently, and you cup his face with both hands.

“Sweetest cunt I’ve ever tasted,” Frankie slurs, pussydrunk on you.

“God, you’re incredible,” you murmur against his lips, kissing him deeper, the taste of your own essence making you clench involuntarily. You can feel the thick, hard line of him against your thigh. Moaning, you press yourself into him. “Let me ride you, Francisco.” 

Frankie lets out a groan as he pulls you up. You rest your knees on the backseat, littering kisses over his face as he unbuttons and shoves his jeans and boxers down. His cock smacks his belly, precum smearing on his skin. Leaning over, you lick it off, his salty taste invading your senses. Frankie groans again when you suck him into your mouth. You gently lick his foreskin and pull it down to reveal his ruddy head, the tip leaking. Slurping and suckling, you sneak a hand between your thighs to rub your clit, the action not going unnoticed by Frankie. It seems to snap him out of his trance.

“I need to be inside you so badly,” he grits out, pulling you onto his lap. The skirt of your sundress flares over the both of you. Reaching down, he brushes his tip against your folds, making you both whine. Swirling it through your combined slick and spit, Frankie presses his head into you slowly. You take over, grabbing his hand to place it over your hip, and grind down on him, letting his length slip further and further into you. Your breath hitches as he spreads your walls, always a stretch no matter how many times you’ve taken him.

Frankie drops his head back against the headrest, his hands gripping you tightly. “You’re always so fucking tight for me, querida,” he pants, his eyes glazing over with lust. His words prompt another wave of slick to leak out of you, aiding your descent down his shaft as you swirl your cunt around him. Both of you moan, and soon enough you’re fully seated on him. You lean down, kissing him passionately, and he responds in kind, slipping his tongue into your mouth to massage against yours. Your hips begin to roll and Frankie breaks the kiss, a deep rumble of satisfaction vibrating through his chest.

“Fuck, baby, your pussy’s like hot velvet,” he grits out, grabbing your hips to buck up into you. He trails kisses down your jaw and leaves little love bites as he goes. The car is filled with the slap of flesh, the squelch of your cunt as you fuck yourself on his cock, your shared gasps and panted breaths. Frankie slips the straps of your dress down, pulling down the cups with it, your breasts spilling out of their confines. He ducks his head down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. You whimper.

“God, Francisco,” you whine, riding him harder, spurred on by the way he laves his tongue over your pebbled nipple, gently catching and pulling it between his teeth. He switches to your other breast, his other hand anchored to your hip to guide your motions. His cock kisses that spot deep in you that only Frankie and Joel have ever found, and the feeling rips another moan from you. 

“That’s it, fucking ride my cock,” Frankie pants. You lean forward, changing the angle a bit until your clit catches on his belly, which triggers your pussy to clench in pleasure. 

“Oh god, you feel so fucking good in me,” you moan, grinding down harder onto him, massaging your walls with his thick shaft and your clit with the friction of his course hairs. “You fill me up so well.”

“Softest, wettest pussy I’ve ever fucked, I swear,” Frankie slurs, losing himself in the feeling of you wrapped around his length. “You feel like silk on me, nenita.”

Your clit swells with the stimulation of every roll of your hips, making your cunt clench around Frankie. He lets out a whine. Your brows furrow in concentration as you seat his length in you as far as it will go, and he nearly chokes when he feels his tip kiss your cervix.

“You’re so deep in me,” you moan, working yourself on his shaft. “Tell me how good this pussy feels.” You’re desperate to hear him lose it.

“You feel amazing,” he whines, his dick hardening and swelling even more as he approaches his high. It feels like he’s lighting up every nerve ending inside of you. At this point, Frankie’s lap is dripping with your arousal, slick squelching and slapping sounds as thick in the air as the smell of sex. Both of you are covered in a sheen of sweat. You can tell he’s getting closer, so you start fucking him harder, driving his cock deeply into you, to the point where you feel like you’re beginning to meld together, a writhing, wet, hot mess of pleasure.

“Yeah?” you ask rhetorically, riding him harder and harder. “Are you going to come for me, Francisco?” You continue to use his full name, knowing how much it turns him on when you say it. “I want you to fuck me so full of your cum; I wanna be dripping for days. I want you to fill me up so bad.”

“Oh fuck, nenita,” Frankie whines as he loses himself in your heat. “I’m gonna fuck you so full. Gonna give you all of my cum. Gonna put it right where it belongs, deep in this cunt.” You roll your hips harder, your tits bouncing with the effort, and Frankie fucking whimpers. Your pussy tightens at the sound. It always turns you on so much when he loses control.

“Do it, Francisco. Fill me up,” you pant, your own orgasm barrelling towards you. Frankie’s thighs begin to quiver under you, and you know he’s almost there, too. You grip the base of his skull with one hand while the other steadies yourself on his shoulder, and then you lean down, nipping his earlobe. He whimpers again, completely fucked out.

“Come for me, now,” you beg in a whisper.

Frankie shouts as his grip on you turns to steel, and at the first hot spurt of his cum inside of you, your orgasm rips through you. Your cunt clenches, prolonging his pleasure, as your release soaks Frankie’s lap and his cum paints your insides. You both cry out at the feeling, foreheads pressed together. Frankie leans in and latches his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss.

As you both come down from your highs, you lean into Frankie, and he rubs his hands along your back soothingly. The softest kisses pepper your face, your sweat cooling down your skin while you both heave breaths, trying to recover. You weave your fingers into Frankie’s damp curls and scratch his scalp.

“Couldn’t wait ‘til we got to the rental, huh?” you quip.

Frankie huffs a laugh and hums in pleasure at your ministrations on his scalp. “Not when you tempt me with those dresses, baby. You know what flashing me a peek under your skirt does to me.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” you tease, nipping his ear.

He jerks away at the ticklish sensation, then gently bites your shoulder in retribution. “Such a tease, hermosa,” he tuts. You both begin to untangle your sweat-slick limbs, and you slip yourself off of Frankie’s cock, groaning quietly in contentment as you stem the flow of his spend from your pussy with your fingers, shuffling around, seeking your panties. Finding them in the front seat, you slip them on, pressing the fabric into your cunt to keep yourself full of Frankie. Both of you get back into the front seats.

You fix your hair as you settle back in but pause, looking up to see your boyfriend staring at you, an achingly soft expression painting his whole face. Amber eyes, golden flecked irises, striking deep to your soul.

Breath catching in your throat, vulnerability rolling through your nerves. That flutter in your heart once again.

Before you can process anything, Frankie shakes his head slightly, as if emerging from a daze. “Well I’ve certainly worked up an appetite,” he quips, squeezing your knee gently. “Let’s get some of that clam chowder.” You nod, breathing deeply and shoot him a crooked little smile. He intertwines his fingers with yours, and then puts the Jeep into gear.

A couple hours later, you arrive at the rental, Frankie bringing both of your bags in. You close the door behind the two of you, kicking off your shoes, and survey the place. A small kitchenette to the left, cute velour loveseat to the right, and through adorable French doors, the king size bed, dressed in the fluffiest looking bedding. A dresser and full-length gilded mirror complete the decor in the bedroom, everything fitting perfectly into a cottagecore dream aesthetic. The last of the natural lighting filters through the windows.

Frankie drops a quick kiss to your forehead. “I need to scrub off the road,” he says in passing while stripping off his clothes. “Why don’t you relax a bit before we decide what we’re doing for the rest of the night?”

You snort out a laugh. “Frankie, it’s not like we’re on the Oregon Trail in a covered wagon. We’ve been driving in an air-conditioned car, Mr. Drama Queen.” He laughs and tosses his hat at you, disappearing into the en suite bathroom and closing the door behind him.

Settling into the plush bed, you set Frankie’s hat on the dresser and grab your phone to catch up on messages missed during the drive, when suddenly your phone starts buzzing. Joel’s name flashes onto the screen, and you hit the green button to accept the video call.

“Hey, baby,” you coo, grinning widely as Joel’s handsome tan face appears on your screen. His umber & silver hair is damp and slicked back, likely fresh out of the shower just like Frankie will be in a few minutes. The headboard of the bed you share with Joel sits behind him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?”

Joel chuckles. “What, can’t a man call his pretty wife just to see her face and tell her that he loves her?”

You giggle. “I suppose that’s a good enough reason.” His eyes soften, and then flick down the screen.

“I see you’re wearing that sundress I like so much,” Joel muses. 

You smile, extending the arm holding your phone so he can see more of your body. “Oh, this little number?” You shift onto your knees, spreading them wide and running your other hand teasingly slow from your collarbone, down the slope of your breast, across your waist, and then down your thigh, retracing your path slightly to lift the hem of the skirt. “Frankie hadn’t seen it before, and he likes it just as much as you do.” Your cheeks flush at the memory of Frankie taking you in the car, and Joel hums lowly when you break eye contact with him.

“Did you and Frankie get up to some fun earlier, baby?” You pause, unsure of where this is going, and then nod your head.

“Words, sweetheart,” Joel reminds you.

“Yes, Joel,” you whisper breathlessly. 

He nods approvingly, a small smirk gracing his plush lips. “I could tell, you got that faraway look in your eyes like you do when you’re thinking about me fucking you.” Joel shifts his seat on the bed, and you recognize the movement as a sign that he’s getting turned on. This is a new development, you think to yourself. He’s rarely asked about sex with Frankie before. 

“Did Frankie treat your pussy right? Did he fill you up?” You nod again, your core beginning to pulse as you affirm with your words, and Joel groans.

“Let me see it.”

You choke on your breath. “What?”

This was not something Joel had ever asked before.

“You heard me, darlin’,” Joel asserts, his eyes darkening. “Let me see that pretty pussy full of Frankie’s cum.”

A full-body shiver ripples through you. “Yes, Joel,” you murmur obediently, sliding off the bed to retrieve the phone stand you use often when you’re away from Joel. You set it up on the dresser near the bed, the front-facing camera angled advantageously for him while allowing you to see him as well. Coming back into frame, you slowly unzip your dress, letting it fall to the floor. You slide your damp panties down, the heady scent of Frankie’s cum wafting up from your heated core. Joel leans back and lets out a low groan. 

You climb back onto the bed once naked, noticing Joel’s espresso brown eyes have deepened to the color of a moonless night, his pupils dilated in desire. Putting your back to the camera, you get onto your hands and knees, canting your hips forward and ass back. You rest your forearms on the bed, looking back at the camera, and snake one hand between your legs to spread your pussy open with your fingers. Joel moans unabashedly at the view, your glazed pussy glinting in the light, Frankie’s milky spend coating it and gathering at your opening. He watches as your cunt clenches at the sound.

“Fuuuuuck, darlin’, that little pussy always looks so fuckin’ good when it’s covered in cum, don’t it?” Joel asks rhetorically, running one hand down his chin through his greying scruff. You whimper in response, the movement of your contracting walls pushing a thin stream of Frankie’s cum out from deep in you, dripping onto the bed sheets. This feels so debauched, filthy, and you are incredibly turned on by Joel’s response to the sight of another man’s cum decorating your most intimate parts. 

“God, if I was there I would be rubbin’ that cream all over your swollen little clit,” Joel drawls. “Can see her peekin’ out at me. Can you flip over? Wanna see you touch her for me.” You oblige, gathering the pillows to prop yourself up, and lean back against them as you butterfly your thighs open for your husband. Holding his gaze, you slowly trace your outer lips with your fingers, feeling the slide of Frankie’s spend lubricate your movements. You swirl your fingertips through the mess of slick and cum at your entrance, then glide them up to the pearl of your clit, throbbing in anticipation. At the first touch, your breath catches on the edge of a jagged little moan. 

“So sensitive already?” Joel teases, and you see him shift in his seat at the same time that the rustle of his pants tells you he’s pulling them down. The thought of him needing to touch himself at the sight of your messy cunt makes a pang of need course through your core. 

“Let me see it, baby,” you whisper hoarsely towards the phone, desperate to see the physical proof of his desire for you, for the sight of Frankie’s desire for you. The frame jostles a bit as Joel sets his phone up on the phone stand you have in your bedroom for times like these. It’s not the first time you have had video sex while apart and it certainly won’t be the last. 

And as Joel walks backwards toward the bed again and into frame, you barely stifle a gasp.

His cock is an absolute marvel, still is after a decade of being together. Thick, long, and uncut, the sight of him always makes your mouth water and your pussy slick. Joel sits on the edge of the bed, stroking his length languidly, the gleaming cockhead a flushed pink, disappearing and reappearing from under his foreskin. His gray, worn sweatpants are pulled just under his ass. Heavy, sizable balls drape over the waistband. You’ll never get tired of the sight.

“See somethin’ y’like, angel?”’Joel teases, his Texas twang always thicker when he’s aroused. His thick thighs are spread wide as he sits on the bed.

“Yes… everything,” you breathe, starting to rub your pussy again. 

“Nuh-uh,” Joel tuts, and your fingers immediately stop. “I didn’t tell you that you could touch yourself. Let’s wait until Frankie can join us to have fun.” Your body flushes with more arousal; Joel’s never asked to include Frankie before. But then again, you’d never asked if he wanted to.

As if on cue, the bathroom door squeaks open and Frankie appears, freshly showered, dark curls dripping a bit onto his broad, golden shoulders. A white towel is wrapped around his narrow waist, and he takes a moment to assess what he’s walked into.

“Babygirl, are you getting started without me?” Frankie purrs as he strides towards you, then pauses when he realizes your phone is on the stand and positioned right at your dripping cunt.

“Hey, Frankie,” Joel’s voice floats warmly into the room. “I figured you’d want to watch our girl play with herself, so I made her wait.”

Our girl.

You shiver in arousal — and something else — at the moniker. Your eyes flick to Frankie, a smirk beginning to grace his lips but a bit of hesitation in his eyes. This was all new to him, too.

Frankie moves towards the armchair situated in the corner of the room, behind where you had your phone set up. He was already adjusting himself, clearly aroused, which you took as a good sign.

“Frankie, are you okay with this?” you inquire, trying to gauge his consent to what was unfolding. “If not, I can —“

“Yes,” Frankie grits out hoarsely. “I want to watch you with Joel.” His tone sets off another wave of pleasure through your nerves.

Joel chuckles, his voice smooth and deep as whiskey. “Well, darlin’, give us a show. Go on ‘n pet that pretty lil’ pussy for us.” Planting your heels on the bed, you use your fingers to spread yourself open as another trickle of Frankie’s previous release leaks its way out of you. Both men groan at the sight. Scooping it up, you glide your way up to your throbbing clit, starting to circle it just the way you like. A moan leaves your parted lips; you tilt your head back while you work yourself. Your other hand moves to pinch and thumb a nipple, drawing it into a tight bud.

“Mmm, good girl,” Joel praises you. His hand starts pumping his cock once again at the same time Frankie palms himself through the fluffy towel. Frankie’s eyes flick from you to the phone, still trying to feel out the dynamics of the three of you. But both men can’t keep their eyes away from your soft pussy and swollen clit, glazed in your arousal and Frankie’s cum. Holding both of them in rapture while seeking your own pleasure is a heady power trip that wraps its silken claws into your brain. 

You feel like a goddess.

“Joel,” you moan, writhing in pleasure on the bed, but not quite where you want to be. “I need more.”

“Tell me what you want, darlin’,” Joel croons through the phone, the soft fapping sound of him working his cock audible. 

“I want… more,” you whine, mind so hazy with pleasure that you can’t even articulate your desires. “Please.”

“Hmmm,” Joel responds, slowing down to consider his options. You look up in impatience just as a wicked smirk crosses his face.

That look always means trouble. 

“Y’told me how good Frankie is at goin’ down on you,” Joel continues, “so why don’t you let him show me?” You hear Frankie’s breath choke in his throat in surprise as a whimper escapes your lips at Joel’s words. Frankie’s eyes dart from yours to the phone and back. 

“Frankie?” you hear Joel say while your eyes remain on your boyfriend. “Would you be okay with that? Would you show me how hard you make our girl come with that tongue’a yours?” You let out a little moan at Joel’s filthy words, and Frankie groans involuntarily at the sight of another dribble of his cum escaping your pussy.

“Oh, baby, you’re still drippin’?” Joel coos at you. “Frankie must’a stuffed you so full’a his cum. Do you like eating yourself outta her sweet cunt, Frankie?”

In a flash, Frankie enters the frame as he spreads your legs further apart and wedges his shoulders between them, leaving enough space for Joel to watch the action behind him. “I fucking love it,” Frankie growls in response, immediately running his tongue in a broad stripe from the bottom of your slit to your clit, tasting himself and you as he swallows every drop of cum and slick you released. You throw your head back, keening.

“Damn,” you hear Joel choke out, his hand moving faster on his cock at the sight of Frankie diving headfirst into your cunt. Eager to prove his skills, Frankie works you up rapidly to your orgasm, your moans pitching higher and higher within a minute. He swirls his tongue over your clit, then slides two of his fingers inside to the last knuckle, aided by your copious slick and the remnants of his cum. Your back arches off the bed from the sensation as you cry out his name.

“Oh fuck, angel,” Joel grits out, his breath coming faster. “He eatin’ you good?”

“Yessss, Joel,” you whimper, your hand holding Frankie’s head firmly to your center. “I’m gonna fucking cum!”

Frankie moans encouragingly, reverberating across your cunt, and the tether inside your core snaps. You stutter out a groan, punctuated each time your pussy spasms with your release on Frankie’s fingers. The man between your thighs laps it all up, moaning in delight. He pulls back, kissing the inside of each thigh, and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Good fucking girl,” Joel purrs at you as you catch your breath. You hear a slightly pained groan, and look at the screen to see Joel gripping the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm. Hmm, that’s odd, you think. Joel usually comes when he’s decided he’s done making me come.

The realization hits you a split second before Joel’s deep, commanding voice spits out, “Again, Morales.”

Ohhhh, fuck.

You whip your head around when you hear Frankie suck in a breath as he stares at the phone, his chest heaving. Looking down, you see his cock achingly hard under his towel, his neck flushed with arousal. Frankie turns to you, his onyx eyes shimmering ferally. You know following orders gets him going, but you’re surprised that Joel clocked that about him instinctively.

In a split second, Frankie’s spread both of your legs again, pinning you open obscenely wide by your thighs. His tongue immediately begins to fuck into your pussy, the strong muscle prodding and curling just right. Your head slams into the soft mattress, a squeal leaving your lips at the sudden pleasure. With every thrust of his tongue, you feel Frankie grinding desperately into the bed, trying to stem the intense arousal building below his waist.

“Talk to me, darlin’,” Joel’s voice floats in your ear, pulling you out of the cloud of intense pleasure momentarily. “Tell me how good Frankie feels.”

“He’s so good,” you moan, alternating playing with your nipples and curling your fingers in the bedding. “His tongue feels so good in my pussy.”

“Is he as good as me?” Joel asks, his voice dropping an octave. There’s not a hint of jealousy, just charged curiosity.

“Yes, baby,” you coo, gasping as Frankie moves his tongue back to your clit and slides his fingers back into you, reaching that spot deep in you that makes your eyes roll back. “So good. Just… different.”

Joel lets out a quiet growl, his voice dripping with sex. “Good. Your pussy deserves the best.”

“Frankie,” Joel commands. Frankie lifts his head from your center, moving his thumb to replace his tongue on your clit, making your back arch again. “Have you made her squirt before?”

“Yeah,” Frankie breathes, looking back at you. “She’s so beautiful when she does it.”

“Good,” Joel rumbles. “Make her squirt for us.”

Frankie nods once, then pulls his fingers out slightly until he hits the spongy spot near the entrance of your pussy. He starts swirling the tips of his fingers against it, pressing his other hand down gently but firmly on your lower belly above your pubic bone, and then lowers his head to suck your clit back into his mouth. You keen, your body folding in on itself from the intense pleasure. Frankie moans into you, but you hear a growl rip from Joel’s throat.

“Don’t you dare hide that beautiful body,” Joel demands. “Lay back and spread your legs for us.”

You comply, barely able to shift yourself open again before Frankie starts intensifying his ministrations. You hear Joel’s slick fist jerking his cock again while he coos at you and praises you, telling you how good you’re being for him and Frankie, how pretty and strong you are.

“You can take it, angel,” Joel moans with the squelching of his cock in his hand acting as an obscene background track for your pleasure. “You’re close, aren’t ya?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whimper, your cunt making equally debauched sounds with every thrust of Frankie’s fingers. “I’m so close. Feels so fucking good.”

Frankie presses harder on your belly and sucks your clit more fervently, and your cries pitch higher. “Oh god, Frankie, you’re gonna make me come,” you whine, toes curling and thighs beginning to shake. A desperate moan from Frankie’s mouth is muffled by your cunt, making you cry out again.

“Let go for us, darlin’,” Joel grits out, his hand a blur on the screen as he approaches his orgasm as well. 

Frankie peels himself away from your drenched folds just long enough to command, “Come for us, now,” and then latches back onto your clit, sucking hard, and that’s the moment you break, nearly screaming. Frankie works you through the first wave of your orgasm with his mouth, then pulls back, slipping his fingers out of you as your release gushes out, spraying your belly, thighs, and Frankie’s torso. With every pump and slide out of your pussy, Frankie brings forth another spray of release, drenching your body and his. 

You’re barely aware of Joel’s groans of pleasure in the throes of your own, but when you come back down moments later, you can hear the edge of desperation in his sounds. You look over to the phone to see him with his teeth bared, the head of his cock an angry red, his fist slick with precum and spit. More pearly liquid slowly oozes from the slit at the top.

Joel is barely keeping it together.

“Joel, honey,” you moan, “I wanna see you come.”

Joel growls. “Francisco,” he grits out. Frankie, who’s looking at you in amazement and pride, snaps his head to the phone at the sound of his full name. You see his cock twitch under the towel.

“Get our girl messy, Francisco.”

A whimper worms its way out of your throat as Frankie whines. Unashamed and blind with arousal, he whips the towel off his waist and his cock bobs, hard and thick. You hear Joel’s breath hitch. I’ll tuck that reaction away for later, you think. 

Frankie kneels between the damp sheets under your thighs, spitting into his hand and fisting his cock hard and fast. His muscles flex with the intensity of feeling, breathing rapid. His grunts get louder and longer as he swiftly approaches his peak. You hear a long, low moan from the phone, Joel nearly delirious with how worked up he is over the scene playing out.

“Where?” Frankie moans, desperately trying to follow orders before he blows his load. Precum drips onto the sheets.

“Her tits,” Joel pants, “and her pussy. Paint her like a fucking picture, Frankie.”

“Oh fffuuuu—“ Frankie grits out just before he explodes, his release shooting out onto your nipples, the curves of your breasts, and then he’s aiming lower, coating your mound and pussy lips with his seed.

You’re dripping with yourself and Frankie, an absolutely debauched sight.

Suddenly you hear a shout from the phone, and turn just in time to see Joel shoot his load all over his chest, belly, and even some on his neck with how hard he’s coming. Every spurt paired with a moan; one of the prettiest sights you’ve ever seen in your life. 

For a moment all you hear is the shared heavy breathing of yourself, your boyfriend, and your husband, and then Frankie is kissing your forehead, your lips, and then working his way down your body. When he goes to lick off his cum from your tits to clean you up, you groan in protest.

“Too sensitive, baby,” you plead, and Frankie acquiesces, cooing at you. 

“You did so well for us, nenita,” he soothes, stroking your face and planting kisses across your eyelids. “You’re so beautiful. Let me rinse off and get you cleaned up, okay?” With your mind pleasantly fuzzy from what just transpired, you simply nod, and Frankie goes into the bathroom for supplies. You let your head roll to the side, and smile tiredly at Joel, who’s watching you with pride and love while he towels off his release from his body and hands.

“I would have licked up all that cum off you to save you from having to add another towel to the laundry,” you giggle, feeling your own juices and Frankie’s cum cooling on your torso. You run your fingers through the slick release Frankie left on your pussy, teasing your clit with the silky fluid. Your body shudders a bit with overstimulation, and Joel shakes his head.

“You just like makin’ a mess and then cleanin’ it up, you dirty girl,” he chuckles, watching you enjoy the tactile sensations.

“Stop pretending that you don’t like me like that, Joel,” you fire back with a smirk. “What is it you said exactly? Oh, right. ‘Get our girl messy, Francisco.’” You imitate Joel’s baritone, making him bark out a laugh. 

“Fine, I do love seeing you drippin’, darlin’,” Joel admits. “Whether it’s my cum or Frankie’s.” You bite your lip and giggle, basking in the glow of this new era of your relationship with Joel. You didn’t expect he’d be so enthusiastic to see you with Frankie.

The door pops open, Frankie emerging with a warm, damp washcloth for you. Although you reach for it, he tuts and gently pushes your hand away, insisting on wiping you down himself. He gently strokes the cloth across your skin, softly smiling and pressing kisses to your face and body as he does. Joel’s heart warms at the sight before him, seeing how well Frankie takes care of you.

Tossing the cloth back into the bathroom, Frankie gets up from the bed. “I’m going to get some water for us. Do you want cold water to help you cool down, or your usual water cocktail?” Frankie asks, always remembering your quirky penchant for filling your insulated water bottle first with hot water until halfway, and the rest with cold. 

“Water cocktail, please,” you giggle, snuggling further into the bedding.

Frankie grins, then lightly kisses your forehead, grabbing your water bottle off the bedside table in the process. He walks out, and you sigh contentedly.

“Wow, Frankie automatically includes Water Cocktail on his drink menu now, huh?” Joel chuckles.

You nod happily, grinning ear to ear. Laying your head on the pillow, you respond, “Yeah, he caught on fast. I think it was after the third week of seeing each other that he started asking if I wanted it instead of bringing me a glass of cold water. I didn’t even tell him explicitly, he just noticed me doing it.” You pause, brain pleasantly fuzzy in your post-orgasmic state. 

“I… I really like him, Joel,” you whisper, slowly fading as sleep creeps to you. You blink your eyes gently at Joel, who looks at you with the softest smile on his face, like you are the linchpin of his universe. 

“I know, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, his heart flipping in response. “I know.”

When Frankie re-enters the room with a glass of water and your water bottle, he notices how quiet it is. You lay burrowed under the covers, gently snoring, but he notices your phone is the only one on the video call anymore. His nerves zap a bit in concern, but then he replays the recent events back in his head. Joel seemed totally tolerant - nay, enthusiastic, to include Frankie into sex earlier. He doubts Joel left because he was upset; you probably fell asleep and he needed to go. Nonetheless, Frankie pics up your phone and exits the call, tapping around until he finds your message app.

Hey, that was really fun, he types out to Joel, a tiny flutter of nerves alight in his stomach. Excited to meet you tomorrow. Have a good rest of your night. – Frankie 

Staring at the words for a moment, he hits send before he can back out or second guess himself. Frankie then climbs into bed, wrapping himself around you before sleep claims him wholly.

a/n part 2: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and thank you for your patience! I had so much fun writing it and I’m proud to be able to share it with you. For those of you not familiar with Southern/Central CA, you can view photo references here: the Santa Cruz carousel, Hearst Castle, info on Ojai, and kayaking in Morro Bay.

Have thoughts/thots, feelings, SCREAMS, asks? My inbox is open! 💌

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[m1ckeyb3rry]

Synopsis: Tabito Karasu has been in love with you for almost as long as he can remember. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like you have any intentions of reciprocating, considering you’ve only ever seen him as a child — and, more importantly, as your best friend’s little brother.

BLLK Masterlist | Part Two | Otoya Version

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Total Word Count: 41.6k

Content Warnings: reader is older than karasu (by like two years so it’s nbd but it exists), no blue lock au, bratty baby karasu, jealous karasu, slow burn, childhood friends, i have no idea how to write kids just deal w it, karasu’s older sister is given a name (look at that word count LMAO i’m not calling her ‘karasu’s older sister’ the entire time), reader gets drunk at one point, karasu the goat of pining, yukimiya and otoya mentions ⁉️

A/N: yes this is inspired by the song “best friend’s brother” from victorious but has barely anything to do with it. yes this is probably the longest karasu fic you will ever read as of its publishing date (word count is not a typo it fr is that long). yes reader and karasu are fuck ass little kids for half of the fic. i have nothing to say for myself except that i love karasu so much and i cannot be stopped…also tumblr is an opp so i had to split this into two parts EEK i’m sorry!!

In a sea of bright, patterned umbrellas, only one was dark and plain. It was wide, the practical sort, all but dwarfing the girl who held it as she hurried along to the covered entrance of the school, her shoulders hunched against the wind and her steps brisk. You thought that she seemed small for your age, like a particularly strong breeze might blow her away entirely, and strangely gloomy, though this might’ve been an effect of the weather and not her personality.

Your own umbrella was cheery, a pink-striped thing that announced its presence in a most domineering way and clashed with the shades of orange and teal and green around it. You had found it pretty when your parents had given it to you, but now you were much more taken with the sole matte black one that wove in and out of the crowd, the clear raindrops resting on it like diamonds.

By the time you were past the cherry trees lining the parking lot, you had lost the girl and her black umbrella alike. It should’ve been impossible, considering what an anomaly it was, but then again that color was like a shadow, blending in unless one looked for it very carefully, and sometimes even then.

You would’ve worried, but you had bigger problems to be preoccupied with — namely, it was your first day of elementary school, and you had no idea what to expect. Setting the girl out of your mind, you used your free hand to fiddle with the name tag on your breast pocket, ducking under the roof before closing your umbrella and shaking the excess water off of it. Then you scurried after an older student who seemed like they knew where they were going, following them until you found yourself in a corridor you recognized from the tour you had taken with your parents prior to the start of the year.

In the classroom, there was a shelf where you could put your wet umbrellas in neat rows. You didn’t see any rhyme or reason to how they had been arranged, except that everyone had avoided putting theirs beside the dull, dark umbrella that you had admired. Glancing around at the rest of your classmates, who had already grouped themselves into loose clusters based on their seats, you set your umbrella beside the black one. For some reason, the pink stripes at that angle resembled frowns; you found it suitable, then, that those two were the only ones on that shelf. They seemed to go together, depressed and angry in turn.

Although you had not seen the girl’s face, you recognized her immediately. She sat apart from everyone else, her spindly limbs held close to her body, her heart-shaped face dominated by a pair of sapphire eyes, hair like an oil spill pulled into a high ponytail that cascaded down her back like tail-feathers. At first glance, she was unassuming, and at second she was entirely off-putting, but you were contrarian enough to take a third, and it was only then that you realized she was actually magnetic in a way, her lips pulled into a serene smile, her irises lively and brows high with interest.

“Hello,” you said, taking the seat beside her. “I’m Y/N L/N.”

It was the radical thing, what you had done in willingly isolating yourself from the others, but you found that you had no interest in those shallow peers of yours, who had not bothered to look at a person three times and see the truth of their being. This girl, with her black umbrella and her keen gaze and her bird-like countenance, was the only one in the entire room you wanted to befriend.

“Are you talking to me?” she said. Her accent was more pronounced than yours, which resembled the one of your Tokyo-born parents’ far more than it did the rougher cadences that most people in the region spoke with. The boisterousness of her voice contrasted sharply with her frail appearance, though to charming effect, and it warmed you to her even more.

“Uh-huh,” you said. “It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Karasu,” she said. “Yayoi Karasu. Good to meet you, too, L/N.”

Karasu. She was a crow, and as pretty and sharp as one, too. It was more fitting of a name than it ought to be, and you nodded, because your childish mind liked when things made sense, could be categorized into labeled boxes. Black umbrella. Blue eyes. Crow-wing hair. Yayoi Karasu.

“Let’s be friends,” you said, and maybe it was a blunt, straightforward request, but she did not seem to mind it.

“You want to be friends with me?” she said.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you said. She shrugged, bony shoulders brushing against her earlobes from the jerky motion.

“Don’t know. Just doesn’t seem like the others want to,” she said.

“The others are stupid. They’ll feel bad about it later, but by then we won’t need them,” you said.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s be friends, L/N.”

“If we’re friends, then you can call me Y/N,” you said.

She grinned, wide and gleaming. “Only if you call me Yayoi. Just Yayoi.”

When you got home that night, the first thing you did was race to the living room, where your mother was sitting, knitting needles stationary in her hands as she watched a drama.

“Mama!” you said, jumping onto the sofa beside her, tugging on her sleeve until she paused her show and looked at you. “Mama, I made a friend today.”

“Did you? How exciting! What’s their name?” she said.

“Yayoi Karasu, but she said I can just say Yayoi ’cause we’re friends,” you said.

“That’s wonderful,” your mother said. “Do you want to have Yayoi over sometime?”

“Hm, yes, I think so,” you said, already envisioning how fun it would be to play with her outside of school. You supposed you didn’t know much about what she liked to do, but you doubted it was anything you wouldn’t also enjoy, so there wouldn’t be a problem. There couldn’t be — the two of you were friends, and there were never problems between friends.

Within two weeks came an invitation, made before you could extend your own. The Karasu family wanted you to come over, and though your parents wished they had asked first, they did not mind that you were going, especially considering how elated you were when you relayed the news.

It was a short walk to Yayoi’s house, or perhaps it was that you were so excited which shortened the distance; either way, it hardly took any time at all before you and your mother were at their doorstep. You hid behind her leg when she knocked, suddenly timid, although you had no reason to be.

The woman who answered the door resembled Yayoi greatly, though she was fuller and taller and exuded an air of great confidence. She could only be Yayoi’s mother, and you wondered if this was the kind of person Yayoi would grow up to be.

“Are you Mrs. Karasu?” your mother said. The woman nodded, gesturing you into the home invitingly.

“Yes! You must be Mrs. L/N — Y/N’s mother?” she said.

“That’s right. Y/N, please say hello to Mrs. Karasu,” your mother said.

“Hello, Mrs. Karasu,” you said, your voice catching in the back of your throat. She had the same voice as Yayoi, the same exuberance to her words and geniality to her tone, but coming from her, it was almost intimidating.

“Yayoi should be in the playroom — down that hallway, the first door on your left. I’m surprised she didn’t come to the door to greet you; your visit is all she’s been able to talk about for the entire week,” Mrs. Karasu said.

“Y/N, too,” your mother said affectionately. You left them to speak in the kitchen, darting in the direction Mrs. Karasu had indicated, ducking into an appealingly decorated playroom.

The walls were painted pale yellow, and there were colorful bins stacked in the corners, labels written on them in black marker which detailed what their contents were. There was no sign of Yayoi, but in the center of the room, surrounded by a rainbow of blocks, was a little boy holding a model train in his hands.

He had the same hair as Yayoi, though while hers was sleek and flat, his stuck up every which way, a bitter warning to those who might’ve tried to tame it. His cheeks were rounder than hers, and his eyes were darker, the same deep shade as mulberry stains, but there was undeniably a resemblance between the two.

Though he was quite taken by the train he was playing with, he looked up when you opened the door to the room, and then he cocked his head, thick eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Do you know where Yayoi is?” you tried, hoping he could understand you. He was obviously younger than you and Yayoi, though you were unsure by how much — a year? Two?

“Ya-yi?” he repeated, stumbling over her name endearingly.

“Yes, Yayoi,” you said. “Where is she?”

He hummed in a whimsical way which clearly meant he had no clue, and then he raised his hand with the toy in it, beaming at you.

“D’you like my train?” he said.

“Yeah, it’s a cool color,” you said, not wanting to hurt his feelings. As an only child, this sort of interaction was out of your realm of expertise, but for some reason, you had an urge to try your best.

“My favorite,” he said. “Light blue.”

“That’s a good favorite,” you said. “So. Are you Yayoi’s little brother?”

“Yes,” he said enthusiastically. “I’m Tabito. Who are you? Ya-yi’s friend?”

“I’m Y/N,” you said. “Yayoi’s friend from school.”

“Y/N!” he said, like your name was the greatest word he had ever learned. “Let’s play trains! Can you play trains with me? Can we please play trains?”

You frowned. You needed to find Yayoi, but it wasn’t like you could wander around their house aimlessly, and Mrs. Karasu knew you were in the playroom, so your best course of action was staying put until your friend found you. Then, if that was the case, there was really no harm in obliging him, even if you weren’t an avid train enthusiast.

“Sure, alright,” you said, sitting down across from him and holding your hand out. “Give me one.”

He blinked at you. “Get your own.”

“I don’t know where you keep them, so I can’t,” you said.

“Then, um, then you can build, okay?” he said, piling blocks into your waiting hands. “Make a bridge. Do you know what a bridge is?”

“Yes?” you said. He seemed delighted by this, his entire face glowing from the simple affirmation; eager to keep his spirits high, you pointed at a point on the carpet. “Can I build it here?”

“Um…okay,” he said. It didn’t seem like he was particularly keen on the notion, but you were out of ideas at that point, so you just shrugged and began to stack the blocks into something resembling the bridges you had driven past on trips to your grandparents’ respective homes in Tokyo.

Tabito was too busy rolling the trains around the playroom to supervise your attempts at construction, so you were left to your own devices, designing it in the way you saw fit. Right when you had deemed the structure finished and turned to ask him if he liked it, the door to the playroom slammed open and Yayoi bounced in, hugging a hamper to her chest.

“Y/N! I’m sorry, I went to get all of my toys from my room, but then I had to go to the bathroom, so that’s why I’m late,” she said.

“It’s okay,” you said.

“Ya-yi!” Tabito said. “You’re playing with your upstairs toys? Can I also?”

“No way!” Yayoi said, hiding the hamper behind her. “Go somewhere else and leave Y/N and I alone!”

His lower lip trembled, and then, though he had been so happy only moments earlier, he broke into wailing sobs, causing Yayoi to groan and face-palm. Within seconds, Mrs. Karasu had burst into the room, looking around and only calming when she realized you were all alright, or at the least uninjured.

“What’s the matter?” she said.

“I told Tabito to leave Y/N and I alone and he just started crying!” Yayoi said.

“You should be nicer to your younger brother,” her mother reprimanded her, hands on her hips. “He’s still little. It’s up to you to be the bigger person in these kinds of disagreements.”

“I don’t wanna! He’s annoying! Can’t you take him away? We want to play with our toys now!” Yayoi said.

Tabito cried harder at this, hiccuping as Mrs. Karasu swept him into her arms with a sigh.

“Now, now, Tabito, don’t be upset,” she said, using her sleeve to wipe his teary cheeks. “Let’s go watch TV and let your sister play with her friend.”

“Okay!” he said, the tantrum dissipating as quickly as it had come. He rested his chin on his mother’s shoulder, waving a small hand at you as he and Mrs. Karasu rounded the corner, leaving you and Yayoi to play on your own.

“Finally,” Yayoi said. “Little brothers are the worst.”

“He made me build a bridge for his trains,” you said, pointing at your attempt at architecture. Yayoi giggled.

“That looks nothing like a bridge,” she said.

“I did my best,” you said. “How old is he?”

“He’s four,” she said. “And a total pain.”

“Really?” you said. Setting aside the fit he had had when Yayoi had demanded he leave, he hadn’t seemed like anything but a typical and cute little kid.

“You don’t get it because you don’t have to live with him, but he’s the worst,” she said. “And my mom always takes his side, too! It’s super unfair.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Don’t you have any siblings?” she said.

“No, I’m an only child,” you said.

“Ah, that makes sense,” she said. “Anyways. Sorry you had to play with him.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you said. “I didn’t mind.”

“Huh. Whatever; do you want to see my favorite stuffed animals?” she said.

“Sure!” you said. She dumped the contents of the hamper on the floor, and thus began your playdate, which mostly consisted of her introducing her toys to you and you clapping appropriately.

You were fairly certain Yayoi was a good friend — in fact, you supposed you could even call her your best friend, though you didn’t have many others who could’ve taken the position, so it was as much by default as it was out of any perceived loyalty. Even still, it was true that she was someone you were genuinely fond of, and who was genuinely fond of you in return, so the title was earned and not just awarded at random.

It was nice being with Yayoi. As you came to learn, she was more practical than gloomy and more shy than off-putting. Once those initial guards came down, she was as affable as anyone, or maybe even more so. Your prediction came true in another sense; now that your classmates, too, saw the truth of yours and Yayoi’s personalities, they began to seek you out in droves, trying to befriend you both, to bring you into their folds and mix you into their exclusive groups.

The two of you entertained these attempts, of course — neither of you were loners at heart, and indeed felt quite at ease amidst throngs of people — but in the end, you never strayed far from each other. It was a known fact that you and her were best friends, that where one of you went, the other would not be far behind, and so your peers quickly decided to go for a sort of joint-befriending strategy.

“L/N, Karasu, do you guys want to come to the park with us this weekend? My mom’s bringing snacks and stuff,” one of your classmates asked you. You had advanced a grade since you had all met for the first time, so in theory all of you had known one another for at least a year at this point, but all you could recall of the short, stocky boy was that his name was something like Akamine or Arakawa.

Typically, Yayoi would glance at you for confirmation, but today she rapidly nodded her head at the boy. Akamine? Arakawa? You wished that he would introduce himself so you were spared the embarrassment of asking.

“We’d love to, Aoyama. Thank you for inviting us,” she said. Aoyama. You had been astoundingly off the mark; silently thanking Yayoi, who had no doubt picked up on your struggle if not your distaste, you grunted.

“Sure,” you said. You had no great desire to go, not when this Saturday was supposed to be the first fair day after a week of rain. You’d rather spend it doing something of your own choosing, not playing in a park with people you hardly knew. But Yayoi was going, so you would, too, dutifully and without much complaint. “Though we’ll have to ask our parents first.”

It was just a formality. Neither Yayoi’s parents nor yours ever denied you from frolicking about with your school-friends, as long as you had done everything you needed to at home. In Yayoi’s case, it was that they were happy that she was coming out of her shell so rapidly, and for you, it was because your parents found it difficult to say no to you when you were their only and most beloved child.

As your mother’s weather app had predicted, there was sunlight on Saturday — gray and watery, to be sure, but it held fast in its patch of sky, its small corner of periwinkle which contrasted with the silvery lavender of the looming thunderheads threatening another storm in the near future.

You arrived at the park before Yayoi, and so you pretended to be famished, looking through the snacks that Aoyama’s mother had brought while you waited for her to come.

When she did, it was with an expression not too dissimilar to the clouds on the horizon on her face and a set of small fingers squeezed in between hers, their owner struggling to keep up with her furious, stomping pace.

“You brought Tabito?” you said when she reached where you were waiting. Her younger brother stood at her side, wearing a dark blue raincoat and a pair of black mittens, though it wasn’t that cold out. Someone — you could only assume his mother — had attempted to comb his hair back into something resembling a neat style, but they had mostly been unsuccessful, for it had not been tamed any.

“It wasn’t my choice,” Yayoi said, shooting the oblivious boy a dark glare. “My mom made me. According to her, it’s good for siblings to play together.”

“Look, Y/N,” Tabito said, pulling on your sleeve to get your attention and then opening his mouth wide, revealing a gaping hole in the row of his pearly upper teeth. “I lost my first tooth!”

“Did you throw it in the air?” you said.

“Of course,” he said, very self-importantly and more than a little derisively, as if you had been a fool to suggest otherwise.

“Good job,” you said. He was in his last year of kindergarten, and so he would soon join you and Yayoi at your school, which meant he was eager to learn everything he could from you in order to prepare for the momentous leap. This meant that there was not a person in the world who was a better listener than him; given, of course, that one was prepared to entertain his multitude of questions and did not find the curiosity to be a nuisance.

“Yayoi, can we go on the swings?” he said. He had, in the time you had known the two of them, accustomed himself to saying her name properly, though this was only a small consolation to the irritable Yayoi, who would rather he not say her name at all.

“Maybe later,” she said. “Right now, Y/N and I are going to play with our friends, but after that, we can go on the swings, okay? You just sit here and don’t get into trouble for a bit.”

For a moment, it seemed like he would argue, but around Tabito, Yayoi became a much bossier and more tyrannical version of herself, a version whose commands were impossible to deny, and so he only nodded.

“Come back quickly so we can swing,” he said beseechingly. Yayoi ruffled his hair, undoing her mother’s efforts entirely, and then she jutted her chin out in the direction of your classmates.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” she said.

“Do you think he’ll be okay if we just leave him there?” you said as you both walked towards where everyone was gathering on the slides.

“Yes, it’s not an issue,” she said. “He’ll be mopey for a bit, but that’s just the way of things. It’s his fault for getting upset when I said he couldn’t come with me and involving our mom in it! If he wanted to swing, he should’ve just waited until tomorrow when I said the two of us could go by ourselves instead of insisting he wanted to come today and see all of my friends.”

“Aw,” you said. “It’s kind of sweet that he wanted to meet your friends.”

“Try stupid,” she said. “Do you think any of them, besides you, will really be nice to him? It would’ve been better if he just stayed at home, but I didn’t want my mom to get mad at me.”

“That’s true,” you said. “Well, you would know better, so don’t take me too seriously.”

“I wish we could swap places,” she said. “I’d love to be an only child, and obviously you want a younger brother, so it would make everyone happy if we could trade roles, don’t you think?”

“You’d be sad if you didn’t have a sibling,” you said. “It’s a little bit lonely sometimes.”

“Seriously, you can have Tabito if you want,” she scoffed. “You’ll change your mind soon enough.”

She got carried away in a conversation with Aoyama after that. He was only too happy to oblige, although a needling sensation on the back of your neck alerted you to the fact that he was gazing at you all the while. You paid him no mind, though, preferring to observe everyone as they mingled about, waiting to see if anyone you could manage to tolerate would manifest.

Aoyama and his ilk were the sort of boneheaded future sports players that you least preferred. Normally, you were more outgoing than this, but in a group where you were so glaringly out of place, you withdrew into yourself, shrinking like a violet away from their brashness, which lacked a necessary amiability that would’ve made them far more approachable.

At one point, in an attempt to avoid Aoyama and his frequent stares, you glanced over your shoulder, pretending like you were checking on Tabito out of some sisterly duty. As an extension of Yayoi, it only made sense that you’d feel that same protective instinct for him, so no one questioned it when you muttered a quick farewell and made a beeline for where he was sitting.

Somehow, he had managed to stay in one place on the bench, his hands folded in his lap and his legs kicking in the air as he looked out at Yayoi forlornly. For some reason, he reminded you of a kitten which had been abandoned by its owner, so you stopped before him and poked him on the forehead to get his attention.

“Tabito,” you said. “Do you still want to go on the swings?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Is Yayoi coming?”

“Not yet,” you said. “But we can go together if you want.”

“You don’t want to play with your friends?” he said, hopping down from the bench and following you towards the swings anyways.

“Not really,” you said. “I’m only close with Yayoi anyways, and she’s busy with Aoyama at the moment.”

“Oh,” he said. It was an utterance filled with wisdom, or maybe that was just the impression he was trying to give off. Yet you earnestly believed at that moment that, despite his age, he understood what you meant when you said that, so you chose to think that it was the former.

“Do you need help getting on the swing?” you said when you reached the swing set.

“No, I can do it!” he said. “Watch, watch!”

He executed an inexplicable series of maneuvers that you could neither replicate nor even fathom, but somehow it ended up with him sitting squarely on the swing, his pale-knuckled hands gripping the chains tightly.

“Wow,” you said. “That was cool. Are you ready?”

“Yup!” he said. You pushed his back lightly, sending him soaring into the air, and the two of you continued in that manner for a while. It was meditative in a way; your mind was blank and the world was silent, save for the whistling of the wind. You didn’t have to care about what your annoying classmates would say next, or whether they were named Akamine or Arakawa or Aoyama or whatever.

If Tabito was your little brother, you’d take him to the playground every single day, and you’d push him on the swing for as long as he wanted. You were overcome with a sickening wave of jealousy for Yayoi, who could’ve done that but never did, and you wondered if this was how she felt towards you. Was it really that no one could ever just be satisfied with what they had? If you had been born with a sibling, would you have detested them as surely as Yayoi did Tabito?

There was another roll of thunder, louder and nearer this time than the last. A fat droplet of rain landed on your nose, and when Tabito next came closer to you, you caught him so that he would stop.

“What happened?” he said. “I want to keep swinging.”

“It looks like it’s about to start raining earlier than we thought,” you said. There was another droplet of rain, and then another, and another, in quicker and quicker succession until there was a verifiable deluge coming down. Tabito slid off of the swing, his left hand in your right as he pulled the hood of his raincoat up.

“Tabito!” It was Yayoi, running towards you and shouting frantically. “Y/N!”

“Yayoi, we should go!” you said as she skidded to a stop in the mulch bed of the swing set. She nodded, her eyelashes already clumping together, water trickling down her forehead. Grabbing Tabito’s other hand, she used her arm to cover her head, and you mirrored her actions, though it didn’t do much in the way of keeping you dry.

“My house is closer!” she shouted over another crack of thunder. All of you took off at a sprint, splashing through rapidly forming puddles without abandon as you raced towards her house, dragging Tabito along with you.

There was a sort of euphoria to it, and indeed you were all laughing as you went, despite the terror you felt with every new stroke of lightning. Tabito made sure to bring down his feet extra hard in the puddles, much to yours and Yayoi’s collective chagrin, as you were continuously sprayed with mud from his actions, but it was hard to tell him to stop when he was enjoying himself so thoroughly.

The three of you collapsed in the Karasus’ foyer right before the drumming beat of the rain increased even more, locking the door behind you and gasping for breath as you recovered from the exhausting run, Tabito sprawled atop Yayoi and your head leaning against her shoulder.

“I’m glad we’re all alright,” Yayoi said, hugging her brother tightly. He squirmed in her embrace, which only prompted her to squeeze him tighter until he yelled in protest.

“You three are a mess!” Mrs. Karasu said. Either the shutting of the door or Tabito’s shout had summoned her; regardless, she looked down at the set of you in fond disapproval, tugging you all to your feet. “By the time I’m done calling Y/N’s parents and letting them know where she is, I expect all of you to be washed up and in fresh clothes!”

You all exchanged glances before running up the stairs, shoving each other out of the way as you went, none of you wanting to be the last one to follow her directives, leaving behind wet footprints on the carpet wherever you stepped.

The next year, Tabito started primary school. For the most part, he walked to and from the building with you and Yayoi, holding onto his sister’s hand and listening to your conversations, frequently peppering his own interjections in. Every Wednesday, though, Yayoi had badminton club meetings, and you had art club, so he was left to walk by himself. Conversely, on Thursdays, he had soccer club — he was one of the youngest members, but he had been playing for two years at that point and could not fathom not joining the school team — which meant that you and Yayoi could dawdle as you wanted, walking at your own paces instead of the erratic one that Tabito often set.

That Wednesday, you were approached by Aoyama, who was a fellow member of the art club. He had neither the skill nor the aptitude for it, his paintings messy, the strokes of his calligraphy thick and runny, but no one could say he wasn’t determined. More than anyone in the entire club, he really tried his hardest, which was likely the sole reason he hadn’t yet been kicked out.

“Hey, L/N,” he said, jamming himself in between you and Yayoi as you walked to your afternoon classes. You sighed, having never found him agreeable despite how persistent he was. Yayoi gave him a dirty look; whatever friendliness she had had for him last year had long since vanished, replaced with the same disdain you held.

“Yes, Aoyama?” you said.

“Did you see art club’s canceled today?” he said.

“No, I didn’t. I haven’t had the chance to check the bulletin board. Did it say why?” you said.

“The teacher’s sick,” he said.

“I hope she gets better soon,” you said.

“Me, too,” he said. “I love the art club.”

“You sure do,” Yayoi said under her breath, earning an appreciative snicker from you and a perplexed look from Aoyama. She was privy to everything that happened in the art club courtesy of you; in exchange, she kept you updated about the goings-on of the badminton club, though these stories were decidedly less amusing, owing to the fact that most of the badminton club members were too dedicated to the sport to waste time with anything foolish enough to be entertaining.

Aoyama was bad at telling when he was unwanted, but even he could not deny that his presence was not required, and furthermore was an active impediment to your day. With a mumbled goodbye, he sped up so that he could reach your classroom before you and Yayoi, finally leaving you be once more.

“He’s so weird,” you said.

“Right?” Yayoi said. “Totally crazy. At least he was kind of helpful this time and only let you know that you don’t have art club today.”

“True, I was kind of scared he’d try to invite us to hang out with him again,” you said with a shudder. The corners of her eyes crinkled in sympathy.

“I think his birthday’s coming up. Do you think we’ll get invited to the party?” she said.

“I don’t know. Probably not. Girls and boys don’t go to each other’s birthday parties,” you said. “He might, though. It seems like he thinks we’re friends.”

“I guess we’ll see,” she said. “Are you just going to go home after school, then?”

“Yeah, it’s not like I have anything else to do,” you said. “Want me to walk with Tabito?”

“He’ll be alright if you don’t, but if you want to go that way, then it wouldn’t hurt,” she said. There were two routes you could take to get home from the school; one passed by the Karasu house, and the other was slightly shorter but in a different direction. Technically, you could’ve taken the second route today, but you didn’t mind walking for an extra minute or so to help out.

“Sure, I can do that. Do you think he’ll wait in the usual spot?” you said.

“Probably not. It’s not like he knows your meeting was canceled,” she reasoned. “But you should be able to catch up to him pretty quickly. He’s kind of distractible.”

It was true. Though he was a quick walker, Tabito was prone to stopping and staring at things which only he noticed, so it was hard to actually get to places in a reasonable time with him. That fact, combined with your comparatively longer strides, meant that even if he didn’t explicitly wait for you, you’d almost surely be able to walk most of the way home with him.

Students rolled out like an orderly tide the moment the bell rang, a veritable ocean of pressed shirts and dark shoes and jostling bags. Without an agreed-upon meeting point, it was impossible to find a person in the throng, and indeed you did not even attempt it, merely weaving through until the crowd began to thin as everyone dispersed, heading in different directions towards their respective homes and after-school activities.

It took you longer than you expected to find Tabito. He was standing in a patch of grass along the side of the road, his chin tilted up as he stared at a bird in wonder; it was so quintessentially him that you did not realize at first that something was wrong.

“Tabito!” you said cheerfully, tapping on his shoulder to get his attention. “My art club meeting got canceled, so we can walk back — did something happen?”

The jewel-like shade of his irises threw the rosy rims around his eyes into further relief. His dark lashes were bunched together with wetness, and his cheeks were puffy. Though he fought it, his lower lip trembled, and he sniffed when he noticed you frowning.

“No,” he said.

“Obviously, something did,” you said matter-of-factly. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” he mumbled.

“You can tell me what’s bothering you. I won’t make fun of you or anything,” you said. He shrugged stubbornly, shifting from foot to foot, gripping the straps of his backpack in his fists. You tried to think of what could’ve upset him. “Did you get yelled at in class?”

“No,” he said.

“Did you get in a fight with one of your friends?” you said.

“No,” he said.

“Hm. Has someone been messing with you?” you said. He was silent, but you knew you must’ve hit the mark because his cool facade — which was already terribly maintained in the first place — crumbled away entirely, his face falling and a small hiccup escaping him. “Oh, I see. You should’ve said something to Yayoi and I. Who is it? I'll yell at them.”

“It won’t help if you do,” he said quietly. “It’s better to just ignore them. I mean, it’s an average problem, so don’t make a big deal about it. They’ll probably go away after a while.”

“But it isn’t fair for you to have to deal with that on your own,” you said. “It’s not like it’s your fault. People like that just pick on whoever they have the chance to pick on. There’s those kinds of kids in my grade, too. Like you said, it’s common, but that doesn’t mean you have to accept it.”

“If you say something, it’ll just be worse the next time,” he said. “They’ll go away if I don’t pay attention to them. It’s not like I even care what they say. It doesn’t matter to me.”

When you pretended to look at the road, he brought up his forearm, rubbing his sleeve against his eyes in the moment where there was no one to notice. You saw it, but you did not bring it up, recognizing that it was something he’d rather not discuss.

“Alright,” you said as you set out towards his house. “If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“But if you change your mind, or if you’re ever having another problem, I hope you know I don’t mind helping,” you said. “Think of me as another Yayoi.”

“You’re not like Yayoi,” he said.

“Well, no, of course not,” you said. “I can be like an older sister for you, though, the way she is. Do you get it now?”

“I don’t want you to be an older sister for me,” he said crossly, kicking a piece of stray gravel across the road. “And I won’t have any other problems.”

The only way to tame his unruly hair was with wax, which made it as stiff as a board and completely impossible for you and Yayoi to ruffle it the way you used to. You had to settle for poking him in the cheek; considering it irritated him no less, it was a worthy substitute.

“Are you trying to be all grown up just because you’re in elementary school now? You’re still a little kid, so no need to act tough,” you said.

“I’m not a little kid!” he whined.

“Sure,” you said.

“I’m not! I’m only two years younger than you, it’s not a lot!” he insisted. You grinned at him.

“It is a lot. You just started elementary school, and this is my third year here. That means I’m way more experienced than you, so you should look up to me,” you said.

He folded his arms across his chest, grumbling something to himself that he wouldn’t dare vocalize to you, all thoughts of whoever had been bothering him earlier vanished. Maybe it wasn’t the best method of cheering him up, but though his mood had not improved, at least it had changed. That was the best you could do, so as he held onto your hand while you crossed the street, you congratulated yourself on the small victory.

As Tabito continued through primary school, two things became evident: one, he was uncannily smart, his eerily observant nature lending itself to a genuine academic prowess that one could consider exceptional, and two, because of his pride in this ability, he refused to ask anyone for assistance, no matter how hard he was struggling.

“It’s so dumb,” Yayoi told you one day at recess, scrubbing at a graphite stain that someone else had left on her desk. “He’s totally lost with long division, but whenever my parents or I offer to help him, he gets super mad at us. Even my grandma tried! Although she doesn’t really remember much about mathematics, so I don’t know what the point was there…”

“He’s always been the independent type, though,” you said. “It’s not a surprise.”

“It’ll be a surprise when he does terribly on his next test,” she said. “Considering how things have been going as of late and how badly he’s been doing on his homework assignments.”

You swept stray eraser bits littering the floor into a neat pile and then gathered them in a dustpan, pouring them into the trashcan Yayoi had dragged over for your convenience, thinking this over.

“I can try helping him,” you said. “You have badminton club today, right? So it’ll just be us two walking home. I can ask him if he wants me to explain it.”

Unlike the previous year, when both of your clubs had met on the same day, Yayoi’s badminton club meetings were now held on Thursdays. This was because the previous club supervisor had stepped down, and the sole teacher willing to fill the vacancy was only free on that day.

“Good luck with that,” Yayoi said.

“Tabito’s my buddy,” you said. “I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

Likely due to your closeness with Yayoi — you had been each other’s best friends for going on four years now, after all — you had built up some kind of relationship with her little brother, who was usually present whenever you went to see her. Most of the time it felt like he was your sibling, too, and certainly he was one of the few kids his age that you could tolerate without looking down on too much.

“Yayoi mentioned you’ve been having some trouble with long division,” you said that afternoon. It was a pleasant day, the vast blue of the sky unmarred by clouds, except for a few which were so fleecy and eggshell-pale that almost no one could be offended by them. The season was spring, and soon it would be unbearably hot, but for now, it was lovely and breezy and you were content with things as they were.

“She’s making it up,” Tabito said.

“Really? That’s great,” you said. “I always found long division super difficult. I had to have my parents explain it to me a few times before I got it.”

He eyed you warily. “You did? I thought you were good at school. Yayoi always says you’re the smartest person in your class.”

“I don’t know about being the smartest person in the class or anything, but I’m pretty good at school, yeah,” you said. “I mean, I always get full marks on my exams, don’t I? That’s because I don’t feel shy about asking for help when I need it. Isn’t it better to deal with problems when they first happen? Because if you wait too long, you’ll only get more and more lost; then, you’ll need even more help than if you had just gotten it out of the way at the start.”

“That’s true,” he said.

“If you don’t want Yayoi or your parents to help you, then I don’t mind doing it. We finished cleaning early in recess, so we got our homework done then, and my parents won’t mind if I stay at your house for a little bit,” you said.

“Okay!” he said eagerly. You were taken aback; you had fully believed that he’d take more convincing than just that, but here he was, as excited as anything, all but rejuvenated at the prospect. Perhaps it really was that relieving to be given the permission to ask for help as well as a method to receive it. “After you help me, can we play together?”

You didn’t necessarily want to play with him, but he said it with such wide, shimmery eyes that you could not help nodding in agreement. You weren’t quite sure what playing with him entailed, but you doubted it would be anything difficult, and you supposed you didn’t have much else to do that afternoon, so it wasn’t as if it was some great sacrifice.

Tabito and Yayoi’s grandmother was the only other one who was home at that time, so you and Tabito spread out your things on the dining table without worry, taking out pencils and graph paper so that you could discuss the issue at hand.

“What part are you having difficulty with?” you said.

“Um,” he said. You waited, but he only twirled his pencil in one hand, training his gaze on the blank sheet of paper.

“If you don’t tell me, I can’t explain it,” you said. “I won’t make fun of you.”

“You promise?” he said.

“Yes, I promise,” you said.

“All of it,” he said. “The teacher explained it too quickly.”

“That’s okay,” you said kindly. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Here, I’ll show you, and if it’s too fast, then tell me so I know to slow down.”

Thankfully, he was quick on the uptake, and within a few minutes, he was able to complete the practice problems on his homework without any hassle or intervention from you. You were glad to see the ease with which he approached the things he had been struggling with only moments previously, finding that his success was also yours, in a way.

He continued working until his entire sheet was filled out, and then he snapped the book shut and shoved it back in his bag. You did the same, clearing the table of the mess you had made and packing your own bag with your supplies.

“You didn’t forget that you’re going to play with me, right?” he said. You put your folder into the back pocket of your backpack and shook your head.

“No, but I don’t want the table to be disorderly if your parents come back from work early or if your grandmother needs it for something,” you said. He seemed suspicious, snatching your bag from you once he could tell that you were finished putting everything into it.

“I’ll put it with mine,” he informed you. “You can take it once we’re done playing.”

“Uh, okay,” you said, bemused. He ran up the stairs, a backpack hanging off of each arm, and returned with the same speed he had left with, a net in his hands. You gave him a confused look at the odd choice in toys. “What’s that for?”

“It’s springtime, so we can catch bugs,” he said, unlatching the back door. You made a face, having no interest in bugs, but you had said that you’d play with him already, so with a sigh, you traipsed out into the Karasus’ backyard with him.

Fortunately, Tabito was pretty flexible with his definition of playing. He wandered around, capturing bugs and bringing them to you so you could see, but for the most part he left you to sit under one of their flowering trees, leaning against the trunk and closing your eyes in something that was not quite sleep but was very close to it.

The blossoms perfumed the air so that it was sweet and fresh, and the shadows of the tree-boughs were lacy and delicate on your face. Petals fell into your hair and against your skin, and a soft wind murmured through the grass, swearing a million hushed things to you, things that you could only decipher at this edge of consciousness.

You realized dreamily that it had been quite some time since you had been jostled awake by Tabito, who up until that point had been quite steadily displaying his catches — which were mostly of the mundane, garden variety — to you with great flourish. Wondering what he was doing, you fluttered your eyes open, only to find him standing a few steps in front of you, his net loose at his side, wearing an expression of awe the likes of which you had never seen on anyone before, least of all him. When you opened your mouth to ask him what he was doing, he shook his head rapidly.

“Shh,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “You’ll scare it.”

“What?” you said. “Scare what?”

“Oh, no,” he said as his statement came true, the butterfly which had been resting on your nose taking wing at the sound of your voice. You gasped, for you had thought the brush of its legs to be nothing but flowers shaken loose from their branches, and your hand flew to your face, fingers grazing over where it had been sitting only moments previously.

The butterfly had wings the same blue-violet color as Tabito’s eyes, framed with black and interspersed with pale spots. It floated away lazily and easily, dipping back towards you once before disappearing into the sky for good, flying somewhere far out of your reach. You both watched it go in silence — for some reason, it didn’t feel right to speak in that moment, as if you would interrupt something very sacred and precious if you did.

“That was a great purple emperor,” he said after a while. “Sasakia Charonda. It’s the national butterfly of Japan.”

“I’ve never seen one before,” you said, your heart racing, though you had no clue why.

“They usually stay up high,” he said. “That’s what the book Yayoi gave me said. Apparently, they only come down if they’re looking for food.”

“What do they like to eat?” you said. Insects were his interest at the moment; he jumped from topic to topic, reading as much as he could about one subject and then moving on to another when he grew bored. Yayoi found it frustrating when he began to talk about whatever he was fixated on at the moment, but you liked to indulge him when you could. After all, you would give anything to have someone who would listen to you, but if you could not have that, then you would at least like to be that person for another. For him.

“Sap and nectar and fruit juice, I think,” he said. “They prefer sweet things.”

You smiled. “It must have found me sweet, then, for it to have stayed there for so long.”

You couldn’t understand why, but his cheeks turned pink like the flowers blooming overhead, and then he spun on his heel and stormed inside without further response, leaving you to look back up at the sky and wonder if you’d ever see that butterfly again.

At twelve years old, you and Yayoi graduated elementary school alongside the rest of your peers. It was the biggest moment of your lives up until that point, a cause of terror as much as celebration. Junior high would be an entirely different experience than the one you had grown accustomed to, and the only consolation was that you both were attending the same one, so you would have each other’s company through the transition and beyond.

The graduation ceremony was short, with the principal giving a speech and then leading the parents in a round of applause for your achievements. Your mother and father sat beside Yayoi’s; Tabito was there, too, in between his grandmother and a man who bore a resemblance to your classmate Aoyama.

Tabito was ten now, and he was entirely contrary, doing the exact opposite of whatever he was told. It was especially so when the one telling him to do something was a person he was related to — namely, Yayoi, who frequently gave up and begged you to boss him around for her instead. He was less reluctant to follow your commands, though this might’ve been because you phrased them more as requests than anything.

He had not mentioned it outright, but given his amenability as of late, you sensed that he’d miss you and Yayoi once you began to attend junior high. It’d mean he was left alone, after all, left alone where once he had had you two as his companions. He was old enough now that you did not worry as much — if anyone tried to bother him the way they had when he was younger, you were assured that he’d manage them without breaking a sweat, but still, just because he did not need you and did not acknowledge it did not mean that he did not want you there.

His bored expression vanished when he met your eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting as he raised his hand in a shy wave. You could not wave back, not when you were supposed to maintain your composure onstage, but you dipped your chin ever-so-slightly in acknowledgement, scrunching your nose at him when you were sure your teacher was not looking.

As soon as the ceremony was completed, you filed off of the stage to meet your families outside. The moment your principal dismissed you, you took off towards your parents, leaping into your mother’s arms with a squeal.

“You did it!” she said.

“Congratulations, Y/N,” your father said, the lines of his face deepening from the force of his grin. “We’re so proud of you.”

“I can’t believe it,” you said. “Yayoi and I are going to go to middle school next year.”

“Both of you are going to do amazing,” your mother said.

“That’s for certain,” your father agreed. “Did you want to go talk to the Karasus? I’m sure that boy of theirs wants to say hi.”

They exchanged one of those looks that you were frustratingly aware of but could never interpret, and then they ushered you towards where Yayoi was standing with her family.

“Y/N!” Mrs. Karasu said when she noticed you. “Wonderful job, honey. We’re all so happy that you and Yayoi are going to continue to go to school together!”

“It’s true, we were just talking about it,” Mr. Karasu said. “It’s a lucky thing.”

“Isn’t it? And lucky for us, too, I’d say,” your father said. Mr. Karasu chuckled, slapping your father on the back in agreement. Thanks to you and Yayoi, your parents had become close, and indeed your fathers often claimed that they were each other’s ‘only friends.’ They were as glad as you were that you would not be split apart. After all, you doubted they could handle meeting new people and befriending them after so long together.

Your parents began to reminisce over the days when you and Yayoi were younger, and when you looked for Yayoi, you saw that she was talking to her grandmother, who she had always been close with. This left you to glance around in search of someone else to speak with yourself, though unfortunately, you soon came to the realization that there were not so many options.

“Y/N.” It was Tabito standing in front of you, his hands clasped behind his back. He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the pavement periodically, far more interested in the plumes of dust it created than anything, his head inclined towards his feet instead of at you. “Good job.”

“Thanks!” you said, glad to have a conversation partner. “It’ll be you, soon. Just two years! Are you excited?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to go to the same junior high school as you, though.”

“That’s okay,” you said. “Even if you did, it would only be for one year, and then we’d be graduating again. You should make the choice based on what’s right for you, not where Yayoi and I are.”

“What happens if you and Yayoi don’t go to high school together?” he said.

“Why are you already thinking about us going to high school? That’s so far away,” you said.

“I just wanna know,” he said. “Will you stop being friends with her?”

“I don’t think so,” you said. “I’d have no reason to. Besides, if that happens, we’ll already have been friends for over nine years. It’s hard to abandon someone you’ve known for that long. Why do you ask? Are you worried that you’ll lose your friends when you graduate? You shouldn’t be.”

“I don’t want you to stop being friends with Yayoi,” he said. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“You try to act all cool, but you’re actually a really caring little brother, you know,” you said. “It’s sweet of you to worry about her, but it’ll take a lot more than attending different schools to break us apart, and even if something like that happens, she’ll easily make more friends, so it’s no cause to stress.”

“That’s not—”

“L/N, hey!”

Whatever Tabito was going to say was cut off by the arrival of your fellow art club member, Aoyama. He grabbed you in a hug before you could react, squeezing you in a vice grip that was impossible to escape from. You patted him on the back awkwardly until he let you go, though his fingers remained on your upper arms and he stayed leaning close to you.

“Hey, Aoyama,” you said. “Congrats on graduating.”

“You, too,” he said. “Oh, who’s this?”

“Yayoi’s little brother,” you said. Aoyama squinted at Tabito before nodding.

“I can see it — there’s definitely a resemblance. Hi, little Karasu! I’m Aoyama. I’ve been in the same class as your older sister and L/N here for the past few years,” he said. The way he introduced himself made it seem as if the three of you were particularly close, but indeed, other than your weekly art club meetings, neither you nor Yayoi had interacted much with the boy in the past couple of years.

“Hi,” Tabito said stiffly.

“He’s two years younger than us,” you added, in an attempt to smooth over Tabito’s surliness.

“That’s it?” Aoyama said. “He looks so small.”

“I’m not small!” Tabito said, but considering how much shorter he was than you and Aoyama, it wasn’t that convincing. He must’ve realized this, as his face grew red and his shoulders dropped, his lips drawing into a childish pout.

“Maybe it runs in the family,” Aoyama said. “Yayoi’s pretty tiny, too.”

“Well, it was good to see you, Aoyama,” you said, sensing that the conversation might take a turn for the worse very soon. “We should probably get back to our families, so…”

“No problem! See you next year?” he said.

You had forgotten that Aoyama, too, would be attending the same junior high as you and Yayoi, along with a handful of your other classmates. Nodding slightly and placing a hand on Tabito’s shoulder to steer him towards Yayoi, you waved at Aoyama.

“See you next year! Let’s go, Tabito,” you said.

There was a sullen quality to the stomp of his feet, but until Aoyama was out of earshot, he did not say anything to explain it. The moment the boy was gone, though, Tabito was whirling to face you, looking up at you plaintively.

“Do you think I’m small?” he demanded. It seemed his pride, which he guarded so fiercely, had been wounded by Aoyama’s comment. Even if you found it silly, it wasn’t unreasonable when you thought about it, so you did not make fun of him.

“Of course, right now you are,” you said. “It’s only natural. Eventually, you’ll grow, and then you won’t be.”

“I’ll be super tall when I’m an adult,” he said. “Taller than that guy.”

“Aoyama?” you said.

“Whatever his name is,” he said. “I’ll be taller than him, and — and — and better at soccer, too!”

“He doesn’t play soccer, so you’re already better than him at it,” you said. “Even if he did, though, I bet you wouldn’t have to try to beat him. You’re really good.”

He grunted. “Thanks.”

Though he tried to disguise it, it was obvious that he was pleased by the compliment. There was a spring to his step and a sparkle to his eyes as you rejoined your families, and you knew that you had once again succeeded in cheering him up, as you often took it upon yourself to do.

During your next summer term break, Yayoi insisted on going to the pool with you. She had heard that the next unit in your Physical Education class was going to be swimming, so even though you had not been assigned the practice as a requirement, she wanted to take advantage of your natural aptitude at the activity and get some time in so that she wasn’t behind.

“What’s your secret?” she nagged you as you, she, and Tabito walked towards your junior high school’s main building. Because of the swimming club, the pool was left open year-round, and even outside of practices, members of the student body were allowed to utilize the pool for their own reasons. Tabito wasn’t a student, but since he was with you and Yayoi, there was a high likelihood that nobody would even notice; besides, hardly anyone ever used the pool at this hour, so all in all there wouldn’t be any issues.

“Secret to what?” you said.

“Being so good at swimming! I can’t believe you didn’t join the club,” she said.

“It’s just something I like doing for fun. If I had to do it for the school club, I’d probably end up hating it,” you said. “Anyways, I don’t know. There’s no secret to it. I just get in the water and do what the teachers tell us to.”

Even in elementary school, you had been given rudimentary swim lessons as a part of your Physical Education class, but middle school would take those lessons to a far more brutal extent, at least according to Yayoi’s sources from the badminton club. You weren’t worried, but whatever information she had heard from her upperclassmen had terrified her enough that she was convinced you needed to spend every spare minute you had in the water.

“That’s what I do, but it looks so much easier when you do it,” she said, scanning her student card and motioning for you and Tabito to follow her through the open door.

“I don’t know. Things always look easier when you’re watching another person do them,” you said. “I’m sure it’s just as hard for me as it is for you.”

“Maybe,” she said.

“Do you like swimming, Tabito?” you said, taking off your shirt and pants, adjusting the straps of your bathing suit, which had twisted on the way to the pool. He had remained oddly quiet the entire time that you and Yayoi had been talking, which was out of character, considering he had been the one to insist on coming with you two.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I haven’t done it much before, so I don’t know.”

“Tabito’s afraid of the water,” Yayoi said. “He always cries when we go to the beach.”

“I don’t! Stop making things up, Yayoi,” he said. She snickered, already halfway down the stairs leading to the shallow end, the water licking around her thighs as she flopped backwards into the pool. As you had predicted, there was no one else there, so you had the entire area to yourselves, allowing you to be less focused in your efforts. Yayoi floated down the lane on her back, not even bothering to kick, her dark hair fanning out in a curtain around her waist, looking akin to a pair of unfurled wings fluttering in the wind.

“You so do,” she said. “I don’t know why you begged to come with us. I bet you won’t even go in the water, you chicken.”

“I am not a chicken!” he snapped, trailing after you like a shadow as you made your way over to the deep end.

“You definitely are,” Yayoi said. “Chicken, chicken!”

“Come on, Yayoi, that’s enough,” you said, stretching your arms and preparing to dive in. “It’s okay. He doesn’t have to swim if he doesn’t want to. There’s nothing wrong with being afraid of the water, especially not given that he’s still in primary school.”

Tabito puffed his cheeks out. “I’m not scared of the water. Only babies are, and I’m not a baby. I’m gonna swim just like you.”

“How about we do it together, then?” you bargained. Although Yayoi liked to tease Tabito, she would not lie or make things up solely to bully him, which meant that he really was frightened of the water. And if that was the case, then it’d be foolish of you to leave him alone, especially if he couldn’t even swim, the way she had been hinting he could not.

“That sounds good,” he said. You took his hand in between yours, interlocking your fingers with his tightly, so there was no chance that he’d accidentally let go, and then you leapt into the pool, pulling him after you. He let out a shriek at the suddenness, but then you hit the water and he was cut off by the cold temperature and the tangy, burning taste of chlorine.

A rush of bubbles surrounded you, the coruscating clear-blue obscuring your vision, but even before they could burst away into nothingness, you were pushing off the pool floor, dragging Tabito behind you until you reached the surface and he could gasp for breath.

His legs wrapped around your waist as your own churned the water, treading it to keep the both of you afloat, and his fingers clawed at your shoulders, digging them into your skin hard enough to bruise. When he tucked his cheek to your pulse, you noticed that his breaths were coming in harsh, short pants, his entire frame trembling against yours.

“Tabito,” you said gently. “You’ll have to let go so I can swim to the shallow end.”

“I can’t,” he said. “If I let go, I’ll drown.”

“If you don’t let go, we’ll both drown,” you said. “I’m not strong enough to keep treading water forever, and I don’t think Yayoi could save us both if it came to it.”

You weren’t worried yet, but it was true that at some point, you’d get tired, and then you’d be in trouble. Yet you also knew you had to be soft, for it seemed his fear was far more paralyzing than you had anticipated, and if he began to genuinely panic, then he might accidentally drown you both.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his face hidden in the hollow of your collarbone. “I am scared.”

“I know,” you said, using one hand to stroke along his bony spine, the other swishing back and forth to assist your efforts in staying above the surface. “But sometimes, you still have to do things, even when you’re afraid.”

“I can’t do it, though,” he sniffed. “I can’t at all.”

“Is everything okay?” Yayoi shouted from the shallow end.

“It’s fine!” you called back, knowing that Tabito might rather drown than let her know of this weakness. “Tabito, listen, I’m not going to let you go. Even if you let go of me, I won’t do the same. Do you trust me when I say that?”

“Yes,” he said immediately.

“Then prove it and leave me,” you said.

Slowly, almost painstakingly, he removed his arms from around you and drew his legs back. For the briefest moment, he was floating by himself, but before he could begin to flail around out of fear, you grabbed his arm, taking him along beside you as you swam to the shallow end where Yayoi was waiting.

As soon as he was able to stand, Tabito sprinted out of the pool, splashing up the stairs, shivering as he made a beeline for where his towel was waiting. You and Yayoi watched as he flopped into one of the chairs, curling up and draping the towel over his shoulders.

“Well, I guess he spent more time in the water than I expected,” Yayoi allowed. “That was a surprise.”

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders, which had tightened from the burden you had carried along the length of the pool. “He’s braver than you give him credit for.”

“Maybe around you,” Yayoi said. “I think he just wants to impress you, since you’re older and cooler.”

“It could be,” you said. “Though I doubt it. He’s known me for too long to think of me as worthy of impressing. It’s probably just because I’m nicer to him than you.”

“That’s just because you don’t see him every day. Trust me, if you did, you’d be even meaner than me. I’m told I’m quite patient,” she said. You flicked water at her.

“Our resident saint, Yayoi Karasu,” you said. She flicked water back at you with a mock-scowl.

“Oh, shut up,” she said, and then it was an all out war as the two of you endeavored to soak the other, forgetting about anything more important than the newfound game and the happiness it brought you.

When it finally came time for Tabito to graduate elementary school, there was a sort of melancholy in the air, though by all rights it should’ve been an exciting time. You had been asked to come to the ceremony by Yayoi, though she had confessed that it had been her brother who had actually wanted you there but was too shy to ask directly, and almost as soon as you sat down, you were aware of that feeling settled over all of the Karasus, even Tabito himself, though he was so far away on the stage.

Perhaps for their parents and grandmother, it was because their youngest was at this milestone. Never again would they have a child in elementary school; now, both of the siblings were older, nearer to adulthood than anything, but you doubted that that fact was congruent with the images they held of them as helpless infants. Even for you, it was peculiar to see Tabito standing on that stage when you still at times thought of him as that four year old boy who played with trains, so you assumed the effect was tenfold for his parents and grandmother, who had raised him since birth.

You weren’t so sure that it was the same for Yayoi, who had a different sort of glumness about her. She was sad for another reason, and as the principal droned on about the class’s achievements, you leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“What’s got you down?” you said.

“I’m not down,” she muttered. She would’ve fooled any other person, but you were not any other person, so you only elbowed her in the side.

“Yayoi,” you said under your breath in a sing-song voice. “Are you sad about Tabito graduating?”

“Why would I be sad about that?” she said.

“You tell me,” you said.

“It’s just hard to wrap my head around,” she said. “I always complain about him following me around and bothering me, but it’s just hitting me now that he probably won’t do that very much anymore. He’s going to go to a different middle school and make friends and want nothing to do with me.”

“I don’t think he’d do that,” you reassured her. “He’ll be less annoying about it, but he won’t just abandon you, at least not before you do the same to him. He’s bad at letting go of things unless you force him to.”

“I’d never abandon him,” she said.

“It’s not that you’d abandon him, but just think about it. In four years we’ll be headed to university, and he’ll still be in high school. Isn’t that kind of like you leaving him first?” you said.

“I don’t want to think about that,” she said after a minute.

“I get it,” you said. “It’s weird for me as well. Not him, but what if you and I don’t go to the same high school or university? What will I do without you?”

The changing of the seasons was what weighed on Yayoi, and consequently, on you. Tabito’s graduation was a reminder that the years did not stop for anyone, that you were all growing older with every passing day, and that one day things would not be so simple, the way they were right now. Of course, that day was far away, but then again, there had been a time when the day that Tabito left primary school, too, had been far away, and yet here you were, arriving upon it so soon.

The end of the ceremony was familiar to you, but this time you were on the opposite side, standing amongst the parents as they waited for their children to join them. You stood on your tiptoes, peering over Mr. Karasu’s shoulder in an attempt to spot Tabito when he came out. There wasn’t anyone else in his class who you knew; you had gone solely for him, and so it was only he who you searched for, counting the heads until he appeared.

He was one of the last ones to come out, talking to a few of his friends, though they all peeled off in different directions as they grew closer to you. Finally, by the time he reached the area where you, his parents, grandmother, and Yayoi were waiting, he was by himself, his hands shoved in his pockets as he braced himself for your reactions.

“Come here, Tabito,” his grandmother said, embracing him as tightly as she could given her frail body. “You’ve worked so hard, my grandson. You deserve everything good that’s bound to come your way.”

“Thank you, grandmother,” he said. There was this one thing about him — no matter how he acted around his peers, no one could ever say that he disrespected his elders, which was not always the case with those his age.

“How do you feel? You’re officially a middle schooler now!” Mr. Karasu said once his grandmother had let him go.

“Good,” he said. He was obviously squirmy and embarrassed at everyone’s attention being focused on him, so his mother only kissed him atop the head before releasing him to speak with you and Yayoi.

“Good going, Tabito,” Yayoi said, offering him her hand. He shook it firmly, much more at ease now that it was just the three of you. It was so typical as to be normal, despite the less-than-ordinary circumstances of the meeting, so it was impossible for any of you to be awkward.

“Thanks, Yayoi,” he said. She scoffed, making a big show of wiping her hand against her pants, which Tabito only rolled his eyes at.

“Whatever. Don’t forget that I’m going to a better junior high school than you, okay?” she said.

“It’s not my fault that your school’s soccer club sucks!” he said. “I’d have gone there if I could’ve.”

“More like you couldn’t get in,” she said. “Because you’re super stupid. I can’t believe you even managed to graduate in the first place. In fact, I only even congratulated you because I was so surprised by that fact.”

“Stupid? You’re the stupid one!” Tabito said.

“Nuh-uh, you didn’t even understand long division until Y/N explained it to you!” Yayoi said.

“That’s the only thing I was ever confused by, and I understood it as soon as she told me how to!” he said.

“Well, that just means Y/N’s a good teacher. It has nothing to do with how smart you are,” she said. You laughed.

“To be sure, I’m a good teacher, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid. It’s his graduation, so we should be nice to him for today, don’t you think, Yayoi?” you said. She pouted.

“Just for today, I guess,” she said. “Fine. You’re not that stupid, Tabito.”

“You’re not that stupid, either,” he said. Coming from them, this was actually a stunning declaration of fraternal love, and you were taken aback that you had inspired it. However, upon further consideration, you supposed everyone was feeling sentimental by that point, so it wasn’t too hard to tease out.

“How far is your new school?” you asked him in an attempt to change the subject.

“Pretty far,” he said. “They have the best soccer club in the area, though, so it only makes sense for me to go there.”

“Are you going to have to try out?” you said.

“Of course. It’s not a guarantee I’ll get to play at all, especially in my first year, but just the fact that the chance is there is enough,” he said.

“That’s intense,” you said. You had stayed with the art club all throughout middle school, and though it was conducted with the same stringency as the sports clubs, there wasn’t as much of a competitive aspect to it. Anyone who wanted to join was allowed to, as long as they abided by the rules and regulations of the club, and such concepts as ‘trying-out’ were foreign to you outside of the stories Yayoi told you about her misadventures with badminton.

“It’s how it is in all sports clubs,” he said.

“True,” Yayoi said. “Remember my first year in the badminton club? It’ll be like that, only to a greater extent, since his school is known for soccer, so the club will be way more popular.”

“I don’t know how you guys do it. I could never; having to try out and possibly being denied the chance to do something I love would stress me out way too much,” you said. “But hey, Tabito, when you do get in — because I’m sure you will — invite us to your games so we can cheer you on, alright?”

“You’d really want to watch me?” he said.

“Why not?” you said. “I’m sure it’d be fun.”

“Eh,” Yayoi said. “Don’t be too sure. The games are kinda boring, to tell you the truth.”

“Nobody said you had to come!” Tabito said, crossing his arms and glaring at her.

“It’s not like I’d leave Y/N to suffer on her own just because she wants to be a supportive older-sister-figure. Obviously, I’d go,” she said.

“Aw, you’re the best, Yayoi,” you said.

“I try,” she said.

“Although, it’s kind of crazy that you’d go to support me but not him, when he’s the one actually related to you,” you pointed out.

“That’s because I like you more,” she said. “Not too crazy.”

“What happened to being nice to him on his graduation day?” you reminded her.

“Sorry,” she said automatically. “It had to be said, though.”

“Whatever,” Tabito said. “I don’t care if you’re there or not.”

“Wow, I see how it is,” she said.

“Just keep me posted,” you said. “As long as I’m not busy, I’ll go for sure.”

“I’ll tell you the moment I make the team. You’ll be the first person to know,” he said.

“Not even our parents?” Yayoi said.

“Obviously I wasn’t counting them!”

Either he was more talented than he let on, or more determined than the rest of his classmates, but regardless, mere months after the next school year began, you picked up a phone call that came from Yayoi’s phone but was made by another person entirely.

“Hello?” you said.

“Hello, Y/N? It’s Tabito. I’m using Yayoi’s phone to call you because I don’t have one of my own,” he said.

“Hi, Tabito. What’s up?” you said, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder as you filled out a worksheet for your science class.

“I made it onto the soccer team,” he said. The tone was casual, but there was energy brimming behind it, so you knew he was likely rocking back and forth on his heels in excitement.

“No way! As just a first year?” you said.

“Yeah, I’m the youngest member of the team. The others are all second and third years,” he said.

“That’s amazing! I knew you could do it,” you said.

“I was pretty nervous, but I just did the best I could at tryouts, and I guess they thought I fit in well with the team,” he said.

“Of course you do,” you said.

“So,” he said. “Our first game is in two weeks. On Saturday. Are you busy that day?”

“I don’t think so. I’m usually free on Saturdays, especially if I’m good about doing my homework on time,” you said.

“Will you come?” he said, spitting it out like it was something boiling and acidic on his tongue.

“To your game? Yeah, I already promised I would, didn’t I? Just send me the address and I’ll be there,” you said.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “See you later. And seriously, you should be proud of yourself. Getting into the club at your age is awesome.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll have Yayoi send you the address so you can meet her there. Um, but only if you want to.”

“I do want to,” you assured him. “Promise. Bye, Tabito.”

The day of the game was brisk and windy, almost like winter but not quite as punishing — the kind of weather where you could still just as easily grow too hot as too cold. All of the trees lining the street were bursting with colors other than the typical viridian, their leaves glimmering in the afternoon sunlight like ruby-studded crowns of gold which cascaded through the air with every passing breeze. There was a hint of loneliness in the piles of browning foliage littering the sidewalk, which meant that, in short, it was Tabito’s favorite kind of day. You hoped that it was a good omen for his first game.

Yayoi was waiting for you by the bottom of the bleachers, playing with the frayed ends of the pale blue scarf wrapped around her neck. She was wearing a cable-knit sweater, a pair of jeans that were loose around her ankles, and once-white shoes which had long ago been ruined by purple ink and too much free time.

“Sorry I’m late,” you said. She glanced up at you and then smiled slightly in greeting.

“No worries, you’re not late at all. I just came early because I walked with Tabito and he had to be here in time to warm up,” she said.

“If you get here so early every time, then I can see why you get bored of watching his games,” you said.

“I guess maybe that’s on me,” she allowed. “Where do you want to sit? If we’re closer to the field, we can see better, but there’s a greater chance we’ll get hit by a stray ball.”

“How about three rows back? That should be enough of a buffer that we don’t get hurt, but we’ll be able to see everything that happens,” you said.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said.

The metal benches were icy when you first sat on them, and you pulled your cardigan tighter around you to ward away the chill which seeped through your entire body from the point of contact. Yayoi, who was nearly as observant as her brother, offered you her scarf when she noticed, but you shook your head in a silent rejection.

The two of you talked about random, mindless things while you waited for the game to begin — how your classes were going, the latest gossip at your school, which high schools you were planning to apply for, and other such topics. They were the same subjects you went over every time you hung out, and for a moment you forgot that you had another purpose for meeting beyond just enjoying one another’s company.

Then the referee blew the whistle, effectively cutting off your conversation and bringing the impending game back to your collective attention. The gathered spectators, who were mostly parents and other students that attended Tabito’s junior high school, broke into applause as the teams took the field for the kickoff. You did the same, though both you and Yayoi made sure to applaud extra hard when Tabito jogged up with the others.

“Do you know what position he plays?” you said.

“Back in elementary school, he was the striker, but I doubt they’d give that role to a first year,” she said. “He’ll have to work up to it, I’m sure. He’s probably in the midfield for now.”

“I don’t really know what that means,” you admittedly sheepishly.

“I guess you could think of midfielders as the in-between men? Before, he was on pure offense, so his job was to stay up and score whenever possible, and then of course there’s players who prefer to be on defense, which means they aim to stop the opposite team from making goals. Midfielders have to be fluid, though, since they’re responsible for the middle portion of the field — ah, hence the name. Depending on who has the ball, they have to either go on offense or stay back on defense, which means they need to be equally as skilled at both,” she said.

“But then why would they put an inexperienced player in such a spot?” you said.

“It’s a pretty forgiving position, surprisingly. If you mess up as a midfielder, you have a buffer of offensive and defensive players on either side of you, so it’s likely that someone will be able to recover for the error, but if you’re up on top at offense or near the goal on defense, then there’s no one beyond you, so mistakes are more costly,” she explained.

“I get it now,” you said. “Sorry if that was a dumb thing to be asking so many questions about.”

“Not at all,” she said. “It can be confusing, especially when you don’t know much about the game. You should ask Tabito to explain everything to you if you plan on becoming a soccer fan; he can go on and on about it. My knowledge is pretty surface level and also entirely dependent on whatever he’s told me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said.

“Ooh, look, they’re starting!” Yayoi said, pointing at the field, where indeed the game had exploded into action, players darting back and forth, shoving one another aside as they reached for the ball. As she had predicted, Tabito stayed towards the middle of the field, surveying the players fighting over the ball, and though he wasn’t anywhere near the thick of things, you found yourself far more interested in him than the others.

What did he see when he was on the field? It was something you’d never really get to understand. What was it like in the heat of a match, where every single movement was the difference between win or lose — in essence, between life or death? You wondered what kind of person he became when he played soccer, if it was the sort of experience that changed one’s character or if you were just ascribing fantastical aspects to it because you couldn’t live through it yourself.

The game went on at a breakneck speed, and frequently, by the time you asked Yayoi what was happening, the play had ended and a new strategy had already been implemented. It was difficult to keep up with but no less exciting for your lack of comprehension, and at least it was easy to keep track of the score, for the goals needed no explanation.

By the time that the second half was all but over, the score was tied. You thought about asking Yayoi what’d happen if it ended like that, but based on the way she was leaning forward in her seat and biting her nails, you doubted it was anything good.

Entirely by chance or perhaps by choice, the ball rolled to a stop at Tabito’s feet. For the entire game, he had been flitting around the action, never cutting in despite how he must’ve ached to, and now he was being given a chance to prove himself, a chance to change the course of the match entirely. Your heart pounded, though nowhere near as fiercely as his own must’ve, and somehow your hand sought out Yayoi’s, the racing pulse in your wrist crushing against hers, which was equally as quick.

In the moment that the side of Tabito’s foot brushed against the ball, there was a rebirth which occurred. He came alive in an instant, like a hawk which had finally swooped upon its prey, talons digging into a tender neck and rending through the soft flesh, wings spreading in an ominous shadow over the unassuming creature that he was bound to devour.

The other team did not stand a chance. He cut through them in a way that almost felt mocking, slamming his hands against their chests to push them away, keeping them at an arm’s length as he flew past, his eyes constantly scanning the area around him, trusting his feet to take care of the ball, which stayed by him with the loyalty of a hound. It was a terrible and yet beautiful thing to take in, the cruelty of his play-style; you could not reconcile it with the sweet boy you knew, yet neither could you tear your eyes away from that sly, vicious force as it darkened the field.

His goal was punctuated with the whistle of the game’s end. For a moment, he stood there alone, staring at the ball rolling out of the net, sending up sprays of turf when it bounced against the ground, and then he was tackled by his teammates, all of whom were shouting praises as they piled atop him.

“I can’t believe he scored the winning goal!” Yayoi said, tugging you to your feet. “Come on, let’s go congratulate him!”

“Are we allowed to?” you said.

“Mm, not if this was an actual game, but considering it was just a practice match between two middle schools, no one will care,” she said, vaulting over the short fence separating the field from the seating area and helping you do the same.

“If you say so,” you said.

All of the players were congregated by their coach, who was delivering an inspirational speech about their teamwork and how wonderful they were, so you and Yayoi hung back until they were dismissed. After that, you snuck up on Tabito, who was taking off his cleats, and Yayoi thumped him on the back.

“Boo!” she said. He squealed, and it was a high-pitched, girlish sound which had Yayoi cackling with laughter as she squished his cheeks together in one hand.

“Yayoi!” he said, though his voice was muffled, his mouth resembling a fish’s. “Let go of me!”

“I can’t bear to! My baby brother, the hero of the match,” Yayoi said. “It’s unbelievable. As exciting as if I was the one to score the winning goal.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t,” he said, using his shoulder to get her off of him so he could tie the laces of his sneakers.

“Wow, way to take away from my fun,” she said. “And here I was, trying to be proud of you.”

“Whatever,” he said. “What did you think, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, two of Tabito’s older teammates, one of whom was wearing a captain’s armband, appeared behind him. They were probably your age, towering over little Tabito, with handsome faces and the beginnings of sleek muscles swelling in their arms and legs.

“Hi,” the captain said to you. “You’re super pretty.”

You had never been approached so boldly, and certainly not by anyone so good-looking. Your cheeks warmed, and you fought back a smile.

“Hi,” you said. “Thanks. You played really well.”

You couldn’t quite remember how he had played, actually, for you had spent most of the game looking at Tabito, but you assumed it wouldn’t hurt for you to compliment him back, and mentioning the game was a safe enough way to do so. He seemed to appreciate it, laughing loudly, though you hadn’t said anything particularly funny.

“I’m glad you thought so!” he said. “We tried out a new strategy, and we weren’t sure it’d work, but thanks to Tabito here, it ended up for the best.”

“That’s great,” you said, directing your words to both of them, though the other teammate, who seemed to be less outgoing than his captain, was too busy staring at Yayoi to notice.

“How d’you know this shrimp, anyways?” the captain said, throwing an arm around the disgruntled Tabito’s shoulders. Tabito’s expression, which had already soured with the captain’s arrival, only warped more at the friendly display, his lip curling like he had tasted spoiled milk.

“He’s my little brother, and she’s my best friend,” Yayoi offered, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“We came to support him at his first game!” you said. “He’s been super excited about getting the chance to play, so there was no way we couldn’t come.”

“As far as first years go, he’s definitely one of the best. I’m confident he’ll be taking my spot once he’s old enough for it,” the captain said. “I can’t name a single kid his age who’s as talented or hardworking.”

“He gets it from his older sister,” Yayoi joked. The captain grinned at her.

“I’m sure he does,” he said. “Look, I’m going to be plain with you: my friend and I were wondering if we could get your numbers and maybe—”

“We have to go now,” Tabito said, cutting off the captain, who gave him a surprised look. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he crossed his arms at you and Yayoi. “My mom will get mad at us if we’re late.”

“No, she won’t,” Yayoi said, furrowing her brow. “Since when has she cared about how late we are getting home?”

“Yes, she will!” he insisted. “She told me before we left that we have to be back before sunset or else we’ll be in big trouble.”

The captain raised his hands in the air. “No worries. Come to another game and we can catch up then, alright? There’s no point in risking getting in trouble.”

“Sure, that sounds cool,” you said.

“Nice meeting you,” he said.

“Yeah, nice meeting you,” the other teammate echoed, speaking for the first time, his face immediately turning bright red when Yayoi glanced at him.

“See you around,” she said. You thought that you heard the boy squeak, but you couldn’t quite tell. “Alright, Tabito, let’s go, then. Since apparently we’ll be in such big trouble if we’re not on time. Whatever that means.”

She didn’t roll her eyes, but it was implied in the rise and fall of her voice. Tabito ignored her, trotting off towards the exit, forcing you both to follow after him without further delay.

Once you were all on the road towards the Karasu household, Yayoi pulled out her phone, holding it out to her younger brother threateningly.

“I’m going to call mom, and if it turns out you were lying, I’m — I’m — I’m going to be really upset! You made us miss out on a chance to get dates, so if you were just making stuff up, then I’ll kill you for sure!” she said, speeding ahead of you so she could talk uninterrupted. Tabito shifted closer to you, a small frown on his face, not bothering to respond to Yayoi’s threat. You waited for him to say something; he confided in you often, expressing things to you which he dared not discuss with his sister, and you did not doubt that he would take advantage of the moment of solitude to speak his mind to you.

“You didn’t tell me,” he said after a moment of walking at your side.

“Tell you what?” you said.

“What you thought,” he said. “You told the captain he played well, but what about me?”

“I assumed it would be a given,” you said. “Of course, naturally I thought you were wonderful, Tabito. You were the best player out there.”

“Better than the captain?” he said. You beckoned him closer, cupping your hands around his ear.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you whispered. He nodded eagerly. “I don’t really know how the captain played. I just said that he was good to be nice to him, as he was nice to me, but the truth is that even when you didn’t have the ball, I couldn’t help but watch you the entire time.”

“Really?” he said.

“Really,” you said, nodding at him quite seriously. “I came to support you, didn’t I? Why would I bother with the other players?”

Any traces of his earlier vexation vanished in an instant. As you had suspected, he had been upset that you and Yayoi had ignored him in favor of the charming older players when he had been the one to invite you in the first place. Thankfully, he was easy to read and easier to placate, and anyways he never held grudges for very long, so he quickly cheered as if he had never been angry at all.

“Y/N, can I ask you one more thing before Yayoi comes back?” he said, looking over at his sister, who was speaking quite furiously to who you could only imagine was their mother.

“You can always ask me anything,” you said. “Go ahead.”

“Your phone number,” he said.

“What about it?” you said, puzzled. He avoided your eyes, kicking apart a pile of leaves and gazing at them as they plumed into the air.

“I want it,” he said. You gave him an amused look.

“You don’t even have a phone, Tabito. What would you do with my number?” you said.

“I’ll remember it,” he said, picking up a leaf and tearing it apart into many small pieces.

“Is that so?” you said. It was a ridiculous request, and you doubted he’d be able to follow through on that kind of promise, but you figured there was no harm in telling him. So you listed off the digits of your phone number, slowly and carefully, as he nodded along and told you he really would never forget them.

“Tabito!” Yayoi shrieked, sprinting towards you two at full pace. Tabito yelped and hid behind you as his sister, who was hardly ever so intimidating, came closer and closer, her countenance dark and a malevolent aura rolling off of her in waves. “Explain yourself, punk! Why’d mom tell me she said nothing like the crap you were spouting earlier? What’s the big idea, huh?”

“Oh, it’s alright, Yayoi,” you said. “I’m sure it was weird for him to watch his own teammates flirting with his older sister and her friend. That has to be some kind of murky territory or something. What if it didn’t work out and then they bullied him because of that? I don’t blame him for trying to get out of the situation.”

She huffed. “You’re lucky Y/N’s here. One day she won’t be there to defend you, and then you’ll really be sorry!”

Tabito stood on his tiptoes to peek over your shoulder and stuck his tongue out at her. Scowling, she returned the gesture in kind, blowing a raspberry at him before grabbing your hand and yanking you away with her.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s leave this loser to walk by himself.”

You chuckled and freed your hand from her grasp, which was a Herculean feat given that she had a grip made of iron, and then you looped your arm through her own.

“Alright, Yayoi,” you said. “Let’s do that.”

Later that night, as you wrapped up the last of your homework for the weekend, your cell phone lit up with an incoming call. Setting down your pencil, you picked up the phone and saw it was from the Karasus’ home phone — which was odd, because ever since Yayoi had gotten a cellphone of her own, she had called you from that, so it had been quite some time since you had seen that particular contact pop up.

“Hi, Yayoi,” you said. “Did your phone die or something?”

There was a pause. Then: “This isn’t Yayoi. It’s Tabito. I told you I’d remember your number.”

“Tabito?” you said. “Well, good job with that.”

“I wrote it down as soon as I got home,” he said. “Once I get my own phone, I’ll make you my first contact.”

“Me? Not your parents or Yayoi? Or one of your other friends from school?” you said, snickering. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I want it to be you.”

“I appreciate it,” you said. Maybe in some way, your friendship with Yayoi had transferred to him; after all, you had been the first number she inputted once she got a new phone, and you were also the first person she gave her personal number to, so maybe that kind of tradition had stayed with him and, in a typical sibling manner, became something he wanted to replicate. “You do that, then. And you can text me directly when you have games so I can come to them.”

“Actually, I also wanted to tell you that you don’t have to watch any more games where I’m not doing anything. When I’m in high school and I’m the captain of a really good team, then you can come,” he said.

“I don’t mind if you’re not doing much. The game today was fun. I got to hang out with Yayoi and meet your teammates,” you said.

“I don’t want you there anymore, so don’t come!” he said.

“Goodness. I won’t, then,” you said. “But that means you really have to work hard, because even if you invite me, I’ll only attend if you’re the captain of the team.”

“Good,” he said. “I’ll be a way better captain than the one I have right now.”

“Sure,” you said.

“Okay,” he said. “Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye,” you said, hanging up, finding a great humor in his competitive mindset, which even reared its head against his own captain, who he was meant to respect above all else.

Somehow, by chance or by fate, both you and Yayoi had the same top high school, and furthermore, you both received offers of admission despite how selective it was. The only other person from your middle school who was accepted was Aoyama, which you only knew because he told you one day during art club.

Both his artistic skills and his appearance had improved markedly since the two of you had first met; though he had never managed to master calligraphy or watercolor painting, he had discovered a talent for making scenes come alive with the use of a simple pencil. It was admirable, that with solely shades of gray he was able elicit images of color, and as he had grown older, he had also mellowed into someone you did not mind speaking to, so when you discovered that he was going to high school with you and Yayoi, you were surprised to find that you were actually a little happy about that fact.

Despite his obvious aptitude for sports — he was tall and sturdily built, with long limbs and a wide torso — he had denied every athletic club which attempted to recruit him, staying loyal to the art club despite how hard he had to work at keeping up with the rest of you. And because you and he had been in the same club for years upon years and the same school for longer, you supposed that it was inevitable for some kind of relationship to blossom between the two of you, which was why it was all but a foregone conclusion when he asked you out, the winter of your first year of high school.

It wasn’t the most romantic proposal. In fact, it was rushed and harried and fumbling, altogether messy and unplanned, but endearing in a way. You had been walking home from an art club meeting when you passed by the park where he had had a birthday party, so many years ago, and then he was pulling you over to the slides and sitting you down at the foot of one. You were motionless as he paced back and forth, trying to muster up the courage and the words to say to you, and then finally he just spat it out, all in a jumble. Will you go out with me?

You saw no reason to say no, so you said yes. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, and his lips were cold like the weather, but you did not complain, because he could not help it. And then he sprinted off and left you sitting there, at the edge of the red plastic slide in that desolate playground, the wind pushing the empty swings the way you had once pushed Tabito.

Aoyama was a fine boyfriend, or at least you thought he was; you had no experience with any others, so of course you could not say for certain, but in your opinion, he did as well of a job as he could be expected to. He held your hand when you walked together and took you on dates and kissed you in private — never in public, though, because you hated the idea, even if he would’ve liked to very much.

“I don’t get what your problem is,” you said, pressing a button on your controller to send a red shell flying. It connected with Yayoi’s character, and your own avatar, Princess Daisy, pumped her fist in celebration as you shot past the dismayed Rosalina.

“Don’t have one,” she said, shaking her remote in a futile effort to reawaken Rosalina. The character remained stunned for a second more before rejoining the race.

“Every time I bring up Aoyama, you stop talking and get all standoffish,” you said. “You obviously do have a problem. Is it because I keep talking about my boyfriend? I’m sorry if I’ve been doing that. I don’t want to be one of those people.”

“You don’t talk about him a ton,” she said, using a power up to speed through a shortcut, ramming your character out of the way to snag first place at the last minute.

“Okay, but something about him annoys you. What is it? I can’t fix a problem if I don’t even know it exists,” you said.

There was a set of thudding footsteps, and then Tabito, freshly showered from a game, peeked his head into the living room, batting his eyelashes at you in an attempt to seem sweet and innocent.

“Are you guys playing Mario Kart?” he said.

“What’s it to you?” Yayoi said.

“I want to, too,” he said. “Can I?”

“We were kind of talking about something,” you said. You weren’t sure if Yayoi would discuss the subject in front of her little brother, but it had been bothering you for long enough that you wanted to get things out in the open once and for all.

“It’s fine,” Yayoi said. “You can play with us. Just don’t be a pain.”

This was an absolute role reversal, and Tabito must’ve picked up on that, but he did not mention it, only plodding over to the TV and connecting his own set of controllers before settling on the floor in front of you, leaning back on your legs instead of attempting to squish between his sister and the armrest of the small couch.

“Are you seriously going to be Waluigi again?” you asked him with some disdain, wrinkling your nose as he selected his typical character.

“He’s my favorite,” he said.

“Gross,” you said. “But back to the original topic, Yayoi, don’t think you’re getting out of things just because Tabito’s here. You still have to explain what’s up.”

“Did something happen?” Tabito said as you selected a cup at random and the first race began.

“No,” Yayoi said.

“Yes,” you said, at exactly the same time.

“…Okay, then,” Tabito said.

“It’s about Aoyama,” Yayoi said. “Her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” he said.

“It feels like Yayoi has some issues with him, but she won’t tell me what those issues are, exactly,” you said.

“Is he a bad boyfriend?” Tabito said.

“I don’t think so,” you said. “No, he’s perfectly alright.”

“Look, I don’t have anything against Aoyama. I liked him, all of the way back in first grade, so obviously I don’t have a problem with him,” she said.

“Is that it?” you said. “I didn’t even realize you had a crush on him at all.”

“No, why would I care about a crush from when I was so young? To be honest, I just don’t think he deserves you,” she said.

“Why not?” you said.

“That’s my duty as your best friend,” she said. “To me, you’re the most amazing person ever, so how could someone like Aoyama ever be worthy of dating you? Besides, it doesn’t seem like you like him very much.”

“What are you talking about? Obviously, I like him, or I wouldn’t be going out with him,” you said.

“You should break up with him if you don’t like him,” Tabito suggested.

“I do like him, and I’m not breaking up with him,” you said. “Yayoi, why would you say something like that?”

“Dunno,” she said. “Forget about it. Maybe I was just seeing things. If you say that you like him, then you definitely do.”

“Right,” you said.

“What’s so great about him, anyways?” Tabito said, shifting so that he could be more comfortable. “For you to want to date him. Why do you like him? Does he even do anything of note?”

You snorted. “Not everyone’s a soccer ace like you, Tabito. Aoyama could’ve been an athlete, but he’s stayed in the art club with me since elementary school. That’s a long time; it would’ve been impossible for me not to grow fond of him over the years, and by the time he worked up the nerve to ask me out officially, I suppose I was fond enough to say yes.”

“That’s stupid,” Tabito said. For emphasis, he released a blue shell, which hit you right before you crossed the finish line. “Anyone could join the art club, and you’ve known other people longer than you’ve known him. That’s not enough of a reason to date somebody.”

“Rude,” you said, kneeing him in the head playfully, for you had come in fourth due to his intervention. “You know, you don’t really need a reason to date someone. You can date them just because. Maybe it’s true that hanging out with you two is more fun than being with Aoyama, but isn’t it normal to get along better with your friends? And especially when the relationship is so fresh. We’re still getting to know one another right now.”

“That’s fair,” Yayoi said. “Don’t expect me to be outright hospitable with him or anything, but for your sake, I’ll be polite. As long as he knows that I’ll make sure he regrets hurting you, if ever he does.”

“I’ll pass the message along,” you said.

“And you have to like me — us more,” Tabito added. “You’ve known us longer, so you have to like us better.”

“I’ll always like you better,” you said, reaching down to pinch his cheek. Already, his face was losing that round quality from his youth; you expected it’d be entirely gone soon, and you mourned the imminent loss of his doll-like appearance, vowing to adore it for as long as it remained.

Surprisingly, he did not slap your hand away. He only hummed in pleased agreement, and that was that. The conversation was finished, and it was the last any of you spoke about the matter for quite some time.

High school flew by faster than you had anticipated, certainly far faster than middle school had, though they were the exact same length. You divided your time between your club activities, studying for exams, hanging out with Yayoi as well as your other friends, and going on dates with Aoyama, so you hardly had a moment in which you could be bored. You almost missed the feeling of lethargy and inertia you had at least experienced once or twice in junior high, but yet you could not bear to give any of those aspects of your life up, so you managed the demanding schedule as best as you could and somehow made it work.

As he had attended a different middle school than you and Yayoi, so, too, did Tabito attend a separate high school. He chose it because their soccer club was well-known, but when he was in his first year, he was scouted to join the youth team of the prestigious J1 League football club Bambi Osaka, so it ended up mattering little. When he had reached such a point, why would he concern himself with school soccer clubs? There was no higher peak that he could reach with them than the one he already had achieved, especially not at his age.

It was rare for someone so young to consistently give such excellent performances. After all, he had been chosen as a starter for his junior high team as only a first year, albeit as a midfielder instead of his preferred position as a striker, and now, at the beginning of his high school career, he had already been selected to play for Bambi Osaka. Even Yayoi had to admit that her little brother had something to him — she claimed it to be an intrinsic talent, for that meant she had a chance at inheriting it as well, but Tabito was far more modest than she and always countered these declarations, arguing that it was nothing more than constant practice.

“Don’t tell anyone this, but I’m not that good,” he told you one day, when you were watching one of Yayoi’s badminton matches together. You were sitting on his black camping chair; he had offered to you and sat on the ground instead of making you do so, though you had never complained about it.

“There’s no way you’re not,” you said. “Ask anyone, and they’ll agree with me.”

“It’s true,” he said, shrugging like it was a fact he had accepted long ago and which consequently did not bother him anymore. “Some people are handed everything, but I’m not like that. I’m not a prodigy in any sense of the word. It’s easy to seem talented when you only pick on a person’s weak spots.”

You rested your hand on his shoulder. He was taller now, and growing more by the day, so you no longer had to lean down very far to do so, though he was on the ground and you were not. Exhaling through his nose, he bent his neck so his cheek could rest on your fingers, which were perpetually cold and must’ve felt nice in the summery heat of the midafternoon.

“If you seem like you’re talented, then you really must be,” you said. “I don’t think faking things like that is as simple as you believe it to be.”

“It’s simpler than you think,” he said. “Anyways, please don’t bring it up again. I just wanted one person to know the truth of who I am.”

“And it had to be me?” you said. You couldn’t see him smile, but you felt his cheeks grow fuller as his mouth curved into the wry smirk he donned more often than not nowadays.

“Of course, it had to be you,” he affirmed. “Who else would it be?”

Who, indeed? In some ways, you were as close with her little brother as you were with Yayoi herself, though it was a different kind of relationship there. As an only child, you supposed that all-consuming affection must’ve been what one felt for a younger sibling, so you put it down to that. After all, you had known Tabito for long enough that he could probably be considered your brother as well as Yayoi’s, so what else would it be? And the way he treated you was how he would’ve treated Yayoi if she were gentler with him, so although it was definitely preferential, you never saw anything wrong with it nor felt any need to correct his loving behavior.

The end of entrance exams, which was the culmination of the many months of hellish work that you had all put in, came with bittersweet news. For the first time, you, Yayoi, and Aoyama would split ways, each of you accepted to different universities. Those two, whose steady presences at your side you took all but for granted, had paths which diverged from yours, and you wondered if ever they would converge again.

Your path took you to Tokyo, to the exact university that your parents had met at. They wept when they found out, for though they loved where they were now, their hearts still beat for the bustling city where they had spent so much of their lives.

Your only consolation was that Yayoi, too, was going to the capital city. She would attend a different school, and thus would live in a different part of the megalopolis than you would, so the distance between you would not be small, exactly, but at least it was manageable. At least your paths would not be so separate. The same could not be said for Aoyama, who was going to Kyoto for university. You would be hours apart, and as the date of your graduation grew ever nearer, this took a toll on your relationship.

The ceremony itself was beautiful, exactly the kind of celebration that was shown in movies. The choir sang your school’s anthem and the president of the school board personally handed you each your diplomas; everyone was dressed in their best clothes, and the click-clack of heels against wood echoed around the hall as students and parents alike bustled about, congratulating one another and wiping away tears at another milestone crossed.

As always, as ever, your parents were sitting with the Karasus. You knew because you sought them out when it was your turn to receive your diploma. At first, they were impossible to find in the crowd, but then, like a miracle, you saw Tabito in the back, towards the left entrance, his pensive expression vanishing the moment he realized you were looking at him. Just as he had when you had graduated elementary school, he grinned at you, and then he waved, but unlike back then, he wasn’t at all shy about it. Also unlike then, you beamed at him with no care for propriety, cameras flashing in your eyes as you clutched your diploma in front of you with one hand and used the other to wave enthusiastically back.

“What a sweet photo,” your father said when all of you rendezvoused after the official ceremony, showing you his phone. The picture was of you on stage, your face radiant with delight, your arm raised mid-wave, the gold lettering on your diploma legible thanks to the power of the zoom on his camera. “You’re so beautiful, dear. I can’t believe you’re so grown up already.”

“She’ll always be our baby,” your mother said, not even attempting to disguise the tears wetting the shadows under her eyes.

“Can we get a picture with our two graduates?” Mrs. Karasu said.

“That’s a great idea,” your father said. “It’s so special that the two of you started school together, and now you’ve graduated side by side.”

“It only happens in the movies,” Mr. Karasu said, taking a pack of tissues out of his pocket and blowing his nose with a great honk. “And yet we have an example right here in front of us. Go on, girls, get together.”

You and Yayoi did not need to be told twice, pressing your shoulders together, so close that they rose and fell in tandem. You fancied that if one was to listen to your heartbeats at that moment, they would’ve been keeping the same rhythm, for you had lived more of your lives together than not, and so even your most basic systems were familiar with one another.

“How about one of Yayoi and Tabito?” Mr. Karasu said. “Let the L/Ns take a couple with Y/N, too.”

Your parents took turns posing with you and taking photos before your father flagged down a random classmate of yours, entreating the confused boy to take a picture of the three of you together. You could already envision exactly where they were going to hang that particular shot — in the living room, framed by something gaudy and likely near the vase of false, ever-blooming flowers your mother kept on one of the tables.

The Karasus were still taking family photos, for there were quite a few more of them than there were of you, so you decided to take the moment to look for Aoyama, who had been separated from you and Yayoi in the rush of people leaving the ceremony hall. It would be nice to take a picture or two with him, too, after all.

It was not hard to find him, not given how tall he was — in the crowd, there were few who were taller, and of those few, only the lanky Tabito was one you recognized. His mother greeted you exuberantly; she had always loved you, perhaps even more than her son did, and she immediately pushed the two of you together so that she could take a million photographs which she promised she would send to you at the earliest possible convenience.

“Do you ever think that this might be the last time we’re like this?” Aoyama said, his hand resting on your hip, a politician’s grin on his square face. You hummed in agreement.

“It is the last time we’ll be like this,” you said. “You’ll be off to Kyoto soon, and I’ll go to Tokyo sooner.”

“That’s true,” he said. “We should savor it, then. While we can.”

You knew what he was hinting at, but now was not the time to consider it. Now, you were meant to be happy, so you mirrored that smile of his and posed with him as if nothing was wrong, unsure of whether, in two weeks’ time, you’d be able to look at those particular photos at all.

At some point while you were you were with Aoyama, Tabito appeared, his arms crossed over his chest. He stood a respectful distance away from Aoyama’s mother, and it was only when you stepped away from your boyfriend and left him to his family that he hesitantly approached you.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, yourself,” you said. “How’d you manage to find me? There’s so much going on.”

“You’re pretty hard to miss,” he said. You weren’t sure what he meant by that, but he didn’t bother with explaining himself. “You’re probably all photographed-out, but if you don’t mind…can we also take one? I don’t want you to forget that I came, too.”

“You only came for Yayoi,” you teased him. “It’ll hurt my feelings less if I don’t remember you were here at all.”

“I came for you, too!” he said earnestly, showing you both of his hands to prove he wasn’t crossing his fingers behind his back. “Really, I did.”

“So you would’ve come even if Yayoi wasn’t graduating, too?” you said.

“If you invited me, I would’ve,” he said. “I’d even skip soccer practice for it.”

“Wow, you hold me in higher regard than soccer practice? I feel like you’ve bestowed some great honor upon me,” you said. “That’s worthy of a picture, I’d say.”

You handed your phone to a nearby classmate of yours, a pretty girl who you had sat by in your Maths class. She understood quickly what you were asking of her, accepting the phone and waiting for you to get in position.

“Say, L/N, I thought you were dating Aoyama?” she said as Tabito wrapped an arm around your waist and you leaned against his side.

“I am?” you said, confused at why she had brought it up. She furrowed her brow, taking a couple of photos before giving you your phone back to ensure you approved of them.

“Who’s this, then?” she said, nodding towards Tabito. “He’s awfully cute.”

“Huh? Oh, he’s just Yayoi’s brother, it’s not like that!” you said. “But he is so cute, isn’t he? He reminds me of a baby version of Yayoi. It makes me nostalgic sometimes.”

“Yayoi…ah, Karasu! I had Modern Literature with her,” she said, snapping her fingers in recognition. “Wow. I didn’t realize she had a brother. Sorry for making a weird assumption about the two of you! I guess you’ve known one another for a while, so it makes sense that you’d be close.”

“Exactly,” you said, confused about how she had even arrived at such a conclusion in the first place when there was nothing between the two of you to hint at a relationship that was anything but platonic or familial. “Hey, thanks so much! These are awesome.”

“Anytime!” she said. “So, Karasu’s little brother. How old are you, exactly?”

“Um…” Tabito glanced over at you for help, creeping imperceptibly closer as if you were some last line of defense between him and the curious girl.

“He just finished his first year,” you said, taking pity on him and answering. The girl wrinkled her nose.

“So you’re barely a second year? Ah, that’s a bit young for me at the moment. Maybe in a little while, yeah? Call me once you’re in college and then we can talk,” she said, winking at him and fluttering her fingers in a wave before vanishing in the crowd.

You tried very hard not to laugh, but when you turned and saw Tabito’s bewildered expression, you could not help it. When he realized you were laughing at him, he turned a vermillion shade that only he was capable of becoming.

“I’m — I’m sorry she said that. I wouldn’t have agreed with her if I knew she was calling you cute in that way,” you gasped out. “Oh, my poor Tabito. I really didn’t expect that at all, or I would’ve asked Aoyama to stay and take our photos instead.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’d like it — um, I’d like it better if you thought of me as cute like that instead of like a baby.”

“But you are a baby,” you cooed.

“I am not!” he said. It was another rendition of the same argument you both had had in the past, and though calling this particular example an argument was certainly a stretch, you did not want to sully the night with even a joking disagreement. So instead of refuting his childish rebuttal, you embraced him tightly.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” you said. “You know I have no siblings of my own, but unlike most with that affliction, I am lucky enough to have met Yayoi, and through her gained a brother of my own.”

He shoved you off of him with a grumble. “I’m not your brother, either.”

“Alright,” you said, raising your hands in the air. “You’re not a baby, and you’re not my brother. Anything else?”

“No,” he said. “Let’s go back to our families. Your parents were looking for you. I think they all want to get dinner together.”

“Lead the way, then,” you said. “I call sitting next to you.”

He glanced at you shyly. “Okay. I don’t think you’ll have much competition there, though, so you don’t have to call it.”

“I just want to be certain. These are the final few weeks I’ll get to see you, aren’t they? I’ll miss you while I’m gone, so I have to stick to you like glue for as long as we have left,” you said, throwing a companionable arm around his shoulders for emphasis.

“Yes,” he said, bending his elbow so he could intertwine his fingers with yours, which dangled loosely by his collarbone. “Stick to me. Until the day you have to leave for good, stay by my side.”

The month in between graduation and the beginning of university was a whirlwind of receiving congratulations from random relatives, packing to move into your new apartment, and visiting your friends from high school, who you might not see for many months or perhaps ever again, now that you were all going in your separate directions.

More than anywhere else, you spent your hours at the Karasu residence. You never did anything particularly special, and neither did you bring up the ever-nearing date of yours and Yayoi’s departures; when the three of you were together — for Tabito insisted on accompanying you no matter how much Yayoi protested — you pretended like it was a normal break, like at the beginning of April you’d all once again return to your respective high schools and things would be exactly as they always had been.

You’d go to your favorite restaurants or run to ice cream shops late at night, laughing and teasing another as you licked at your cones and wandered around the streets. Sometimes you’d all go to the playground and pretend like you were children, sliding down slides that were only twice the length of your bodies and climbing across monkey bars with your feet brushing against the mulch. You’d sit on the swings and make Tabito push you as payback for the many times you had done so for him when he was younger, though he never viewed it as a punishment, and Yayoi would build castles in the sandpit, the grains digging into her skin and standing out in bright red patterns against her pale knees. Other days, if it was raining or any of you were particularly tired, you’d play video games, Tabito laying against your legs as he always did and Yayoi perched on the armrest like a gargoyle.

It was simple and wonderful and easy, but the same could not be said for your relationship with Aoyama. There was a tension between you both which had never been there before, and though he had claimed at graduation that he wanted to savor the last few weeks of your time together, you found yourself thinking more and more frequently that you wished you had ended things when you were still happy with one another.

You fought with him about random things, so irritable were you with one another. He accused you of spending all of your time with Yayoi, even though you’d be so close to her once the next year began, and ignoring him completely. You bit back with ten times the force, telling him plainly that you loved her first, and that even though you’d be nearer to her than him, the two of you would still be apart in a way you never had been, not since you both were six years old. And what of Tabito? What of the boy you had known since he was so young, that boy you had grown up alongside? You would leave him behind for good, and you could not bear the thought.

But in turn, this only angered him further. You like him, Aoyama accused you. You like him more than you like me. You weren’t sure how to respond to this. Of course you liked Tabito more than you liked Aoyama. You liked him more than you liked just about anybody, excepting his sister. Yet when Aoyama said it, it didn’t seem as innocuous as you knew it to be. It was the same thing that that girl from your math class had brought up, that there was something else between you and Tabito. You found it so distasteful that your words turned to poison.

You can’t say that, you’d snap, over and over, however fruitless it always was. He’s a kid. You can’t say that.

Aoyama would laugh bitterly, burying his face in his hands. Sometimes, he’d seem so tired and hollow and sick of it all that you’d regret it, regret whatever had happened between you two that had made you end up like this, but then he’d look up at you again and you’d know that this was the inevitable outcome.

It’s only two years. He’d remind you of that fact every time, and what could you say? It was the truth, and the same thing Tabito always insisted to your deaf ears. Two years or maybe less. 

It’s different, you’d huff when you could not think of anything else. Aoyama would sigh and then one of you would apologize: sometimes you, sometimes him. After that you’d kiss, and things would settle into a distorted version of your old comfort, but each time you ran through that fight or one that was similar, it became a little more difficult and your relationship fractured a little more.

There was no one great mistake. You couldn’t pick out a single moment when everything went wrong, when one of you committed a grave and unforgivable sin. It was just the accumulation of many small grievances, the stress of both of your impending moves as well as the knowledge that the end for you both was near, that blew up into an enormous fight, the kind of confrontation that was only frightening when it was finally over.

You both shouted about everything and yet nothing. The relationship, in its best days, had never had anything worth complaining about, and so it was difficult to find something to genuinely be upset over. He insisted you were cheating on him, or that, if you were not already, you soon would. You spat insults at him that you were not proud of, calling him controlling and cruel and stupid, even if he wasn’t really any of these things, and definitely not in the great quantity you insinuated he was.

I joined the art club for you. That was the last thing he said, when it was officially over and your fist was clenched around the doorknob. I could’ve been a national champion at any sport. Soccer or basketball or baseball or whatever. I could’ve been great, but I stayed in the goddamn art club because I wanted to be with you.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, stepping onto his doorstep, the rage leaving you in a minute, replaced by a deep sense of shame, but also, peculiarly, of freedom. Do you wish you had made a different choice now? Now that it’s come to this, I mean.

He laughed bitterly. Nah. Somehow, I can’t seem to regret it.

A lump formed in your throat, but bravely and surely, you swallowed it back. If you cried now, then you were afraid you’d never leave him. I see. Well, good luck in Kyoto.

Good luck with wherever your life takes you, he said. Tell Yayoi I said the same to her. 

I will, you promised.

Tell that brother of hers, too, he said. And tell him you love him while you’re at it.

There was no merit in responding to that final statement, which was as much an assertion of his perceived correctness as it was a heartfelt attempt at reconciliation. So you turned around, allowing your tears to fall when you heard the door shut behind you, the streetlights guiding your way home as you cried silently to yourself.

You never did see him again. It was probably for the best, anyways. A few days later, you were off to Tokyo, with an entire life ahead of you — a life that had no longer had a place for the dalliances of your past.

You and Yayoi, as well as your parents, took the train to Tokyo together. Tabito stayed at home with his grandmother, though he bemoaned the turn of events; he was about to start his second year of high school, though, so how could he justify tagging along? He did come to the station, however, pretending to be nonchalant and ever-so-cool, like he didn’t care one bit that you and Yayoi were leaving for good.

“I hope you’re not considering a career in the film industry, Tabito,” you said. The three of you were sitting on a bench together, yours and Yayoi’s suitcases at your feet, your parents waiting in line at the window to receive your tickets.

“Why not?” he said stiffly.

“You’re horrible at acting,” you said, your arms going around his firm bicep, your forehead pressing to the curve of his shoulder. “It’s okay for you to be sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he said, his voice a dull, trained monotone.

“I am,” you said. “We’re not going to be like this again for a while. Not ever, in one sense of the word. I think it’s natural to be sad about that.”

“Hmph,” Yayoi said, from Tabito’s other side. She was like her brother, but with marginally more of an aptitude at theatrics. Still, there was a curious sheen to her eyes, a dampness to the typically fiery irises. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” you said. “Things will be different no matter what. I don’t think it’s a bad development, but it’s a true one. We’ll — we’ll be apart, Yayoi, and we’ll have to take taxis to visit each other instead of being close enough to walk.”

“You’ll still be able to visit each other,” Tabito said, his face stoic but his voice trembling. “I won’t even get that. I’ll be hours away and all alone.”

“You have your friends and your soccer team,” you said.

“They’re not you,” he said. You weren’t sure if he meant it for the both of you or you alone. Selfishly, you wished for it to be the latter, though you could not say why and had no claim to him for it to be the case. “Nobody could ever be you.”

“If our mom got pregnant again, someone could be like us,” Yayoi offered with a wavering, half-hearted laugh. “You’ll have another sister then. Name her Ya-Y/N and it’ll be like we never left.”

“I’ll be older than her,” Tabito said. “She’ll be a crying, whiny baby.”

“Sounds like you’ll get along well, then,” Yayoi said. He scoffed and smacked her on the arm. She yelped in dismay and rubbed the sore spot, glaring at him all the while, which did inject some levity into the atmosphere.

Your spirits immediately plummeted once again when the train arrived with a rushing, roaring wind, coasting to a stop, the doors heaving open with a sigh. There was a looming emptiness in every car, mirroring the pit in your stomach and the jagged, frayed tears in your heart, which widened with every step you took towards the edge of the platform.

“See you around, bro,” Yayoi said, doing an elaborate handshake with Tabito. “Good luck with soccer. Call me if our parents are being annoying; I’ll talk to them. You can count on it.”

“Thanks, bro,” he said. “Stay safe in Tokyo. Maybe try to get a boyfriend or something, if you can manage it.”

“Shut up, you little twerp. I definitely can! I’m going to end up dating a model, just you wait and watch!” she said, punching him in the arm lightheartedly and then leaping onto the train without a backwards glance, leaving you and Tabito alone. Your parents were waiting inside with your luggage, and you knew Yayoi would probably be confused about why you hadn’t followed her, but for some reason, you found yourself hesitating.

“You’ll be able to get home from the station by yourself okay?” you fretted.

“Yes, of course,” he said, the corners of his mouth curving up in amusement. “Despite what you and Yayoi seem to believe, I’m not a baby, and besides, my house isn’t that far from here. It won’t be a long walk. I’ll be okay — I’ve had to do worse exercise in practice.”

“Okay, but just be careful,” you said, shifting from foot to foot uneasily, playing with your fingers. “You have people who can help you if something happens and we’re not there, right?”

“I do,” he said.

“And — and stay away from pools,” you instructed him firmly. “Because you suck at swimming and I won’t be there to look out for you anymore.”

“I would’ve done that even if you didn’t tell me to,” he said. “Quit nagging me, Y/N. It’s seriously annoying. Don’t you have to go? You’ll miss the train if you don’t hurry up.”

On cue, the train let out a warning whistle. You swallowed and then nodded, but you didn’t move. You didn’t want to leave him. That was what you realized in that very moment: it wasn’t your entire life that you cared about abandoning. There wasn’t anything much you’d miss about your hometown, and certainly nothing you’d miss more than him. Tabito, your Tabito — because he was yours in a way you were loath to share with even Yayoi, who was his actual sister, and you were suddenly so certain that it had always been so and you had just never discerned it.

“Go on,” he said after a second, nudging you towards the train. “Really, you’ll be in trouble soon.”

You thought that you should tell him, but there were not words enough to describe it, so you did not. You could not. You only forced a smile and then stepped onto the train, clutching the metal bar and facing the platform so that you could gaze at him one final time. The train whistled again, and then Tabito’s expression changed into something strict and determined as he raced forward, skidding to a stop on the painted yellow border right in front of you.

“Did something happen?” you said. He shook his head, motioning for you to come closer. Still holding onto the metal bar for balance, you brought your face to his, thinking he might want to whisper one final secret in your ear before he no longer could. Yet he did not; instead, he pressed his lips to your cheek, one of his hands holding the other carefully, so gentle despite the roughness of his calloused palms.

“Bye, Y/N,” he said. “Don’t forget me while you’re in Tokyo.”

The doors closed and the train shot off as you took a step back, too stunned to shout out a final farewell until it was too late and all you could do was watch as his waving form receded into the distance.

[squidpedia]

HI I’M PEDIA, MASTERPOST DOWN BELOW BUT HOLD ON REALLY QUICK READ MY FAQ:

Boundaries on reposting, dubbing, and pfp’s?

Please ask for permission in my messages/inbox before reposting my work or dubbing it! PFP’s don’t need permission, just include credit in bio please. Most likely I’ll be ok with it so please don’t be shy! it’s just a boundary I like having respected. Also cmon girl if you make a dub of my work I want to see🥺

Do you like [other show/video/series]?

Maybe! All my my non utdr fanart goes to @squidpedias-fanart so maybe check/ask there?

I sent you an ask a while ago/tagged you in a post but you never responded, did I upset you somehow?

NOOOOOOOOOOOO I’M JUST AWFUL AT RESPONDING TO ASKSSS OR TEND TO MISS A LOT OF NOTIFICATIONS I’M SORRYYYYYY YOUREE FINEEEEEE. ITS YOU AND LIKE 150 OTHER PEOPLE I PROMMY IM JUST TERRIBLE. don’t be afraid to rb it and tag me in the rb again, sorry for that!

I liked this drawing concept you made. Can I make fanart, redraw it in my style, or make something inspired by it?

YEAH!!!! Flattered and happy I inspired you in that way!! Just 1) tag and credit me, because I would be so sad if I didn’t see and would love love love to rb it and 2) if it’s a redraw, try to link back to original post if possible (but I forget to mention that a lot so that second part isn’t as big of a deal)

What about writing fics?

A FEW OF YOU ARE WILD FOR THAT BUT YEAH GO OFF. Still let me know, give credit, tag me if possible, and check out this other post I made too regarding fic writing and overall boundaries about my fallen kid oc’s. If you still have questions after reading that and there’s anything I didn’t go over, reach out and ask in my inbox or dm’s! I’d be happy to elaborate on anything!

What other socials do you have?

I have a Youtube, Twitter, Bluesky, and a Switch (SW-2670-2211-5056) (thats not a social but you should friend me on there anyways and crash my splatoon lobbies lmao).

Do you have any oc’s or personal works?

@an-unconscious-effort-comic and @dragontry-comic (neither stories are connected to each other and are their own projects)

Pronouns?

Please refer to Frisk, Chara, Kris, and any of my fallen human designs with they/them strictly here (or Chara by they/it) (This includes Lilac). Clover also uses they/them my take too (well they/she actually but I usually just refer to her by they they/them in posts because,,,,,nervous)

Oh wait you meant me. Any👍

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UTDR/UTY COMICS MASTERPOST

(uty comics are highlighted in orange if you’re more interested in the strictly undertale comics)

Clover’s Memories (ongoing - i prommy)

(10/12 update - the voices………….theyre telling me to work on it again………………..meanwhile i got a big project due at midnight and have to study for a test tomorrow, some halloween related ask doodles, and commissions from both sides of my family for their individual family businesses IM GONNA EXPLODEEEE)

Silence | Memory 1 | Memory 2 | Memory 2.5 Coming Soon | Sound | Memory 3 | Discrepancy | Memory 4 | Static

Clover’s Hat (post revive au)

Part 1 /// Part 2 /// Bonus

Kanako Integrity Duo (really short mini doodle comics)

Reconciliation // Introductions // Ceroba // Chujin

Miscellaneous:

Kris and Clover Interaction // Clover’s Sacrifice // Frisk vs. Clover’s POV // Clover Tells Martlet a Secret // Who’s Your Friend? // Pipe Down // Family Visit // Unwell // Letter // Humor // Gamer // They // Kicked Out // It Keeps Happening // What’s In A Name

TAGS:

#Happily Ever After and Then Some -> everyone lives au (based on the events of undertale and uty) including chara, flowey/asriel gets his body back, fallen kids, where i offer very limited explanation for why or how because it simply makes me really self-conscious to try to come up with reasoning and really i just want to imagine these characters in fun and interesting scenarios. Theyre all alive, just go with it and have fun. Note this is not a comic series or anything, i just like doodling the scenarios sometimes

(It doesn’t really have any posted content to it’s name yet,,,other than maybe revived clover au content ig,,,and im just not even sure how hard i’ll commit??? But i think and doodle about it often enough to justify it being mentioned for now. i think)

#Phantom integrity au -> someone sent an ask once about what if clover’s narrator was integrity. It’s a fun idea to explore and where I got the concept of Lilac’s design for! It’s not something I think about very often plotwise but I like drawing ghosty lilac

#Lilac -> yes they deserve their own tag. My integrity design that i like to draw, they have diseases i love them

#Pedias art

#Other peoples art -> you should check them out please 🥺

[slytherinboysappreciation]

SMUT REQ LESGOOOOO

Male reader and Tom are from the Wool's orphanage and they grow together, so ofc it would be natural for Tom to think that they would end up together, right? To have reader standing beside him as he becomes the Dark Lord? Wrong. Reader never considered him more than a best friend or a brother that should be protected. So when there's a rumor abt reader dating someone Tom was furious, he went to search reader to confirm the rumor (which is not true) but alas, he's too furious to listen so he fuck him dumb, and Tom started speaking parseltongue while getting it on

Bruh idk how to explain this lmao, English is hard 😔 But hey u can make the setting for this one when Tom was alr a Dark Lord (daddy) or when he's in the 7th year.

Rumor - T. R. x male!Reader

A/N: I’m so sorry for taking so long to get to this 😅 My writing motivation has been a little skewed lately. However, I did it! And I hope you like it!

I changed the parseltongue part to him speaking it when he gets angry enough because it just helped the story along more. I hope that’s okay.

It’s unedited with no use of Y/N. I think I tagged everything, but let me know if I missed something please! 💛

And of course, this fic contains explicit sexual content so ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS!!!!

CW: Possessiveness; mentioned failed love confessions; angst; a mention of horcruxes; anger, lots of anger; murder mention; Tom gets a bit physical with reader; dubcon touching; dubcon sexual content, (consent is there, but not referenced); handjob; doggy style, I think?; Tom ties reader’s hands with a belt; anal sex; anal penetration; no lube mentioned; dirty talk; aftercare; slightly fluffy ending; also, this takes place after Hogwarts so Tom and Reader are both of age!!!!

1676 words

You were Tom Riddle’s best friend.

Everyone knew it. He’d made sure of it as soon as your friendship had been born. You were his friend. First and foremost, above anything else.

You were his. His friend. His follower. Almost his lover even.

Not anymore.

From as far back as he could remember until his seventh year of school, you’d been by Tom’s side. The two of you grew up together. Shared classes together. Practiced dark magic spells together.

And then graduation came and ruined everything.

He hadn’t meant it to. When he’d confessed to you, he’d thought you’d felt the same. Thought you’d felt the spark between you. The feverish heat that came with late night talks and too long glances.

But no.

You hadn’t seen Tom as anything more than a friend. Even worse, you’d called him your little brother. It had made him sick, to think that all that time he’d been pining after you, you’d never even looked his way.

So he’d cut you out of his life. Carved you out of his heart and left a bleeding hole there instead.

It hurt every day you weren’t there.

But he’s stronger now. He has Abraxas and Bellatrix to take your place.

He never finds himself clutching his chest, gripping so hard his knuckles turn white from how strong the pain is of missing you. Never. Not even once.

Not even making a horcrux hurt as badly as missing you.

But Tom was content. He was fine. He had other followers who were just as loyal as you’d been. He didn’t need you anymore.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

It all changed the moment your name fell from Abraxas’ lips.

Tom’s head snaps up immediately, eyes cold and intense. “What did you say?”

Abraxas blanches, as if realizing his mistake. “My Lord. I just— I didn’t mean—“

“What did you say?” Tom’s voice is low, almost a hiss of warning.

“I— I said that Lestrange saw him out with someone. A— A woman, it looked like.”

The fury is slow building, but its intensity could’ve fueled countless more murders. Tom rises slowly. He stands, his aura sucking the life out of the room.

“I will return.”

With that, he sweeps out of the room, a cold blaze of fury and betrayal following in his wake.

Neither Abraxas or Bellatrix try to follow.

He finds you in your house. Whether he knocked or not, you’re surprised to see him all the same.

“Tom?” You stare in bafflement, maybe even awe.

He’s not surprised. Tom’s been told many times of his physical beauty, something that only heightened over the years. And it’s been many years since he’s seen you.

You look… very much the same as ever. New hairstyle, perhaps. Your face has matured a bit, making you look a little older. But you’re still you.

“Hello.” He spits out, barely able to hold back the rage and flood of feelings that fill his mind. Anger, betrayal, hurt; as if the rejection had been mere moments ago.

“What are you—“

“Who was she?” Tom demands, interrupting you. You blink.

“Huh? Who was who?”

Tom grabs your shoulder, his fingers digging into your shirt. “The woman you were with.” His voice is venom, pure anger in his tone. His voice shakes with it as he speaks. “Lestrange saw you with someone. Who. Was. She?”

You blink, visibly confused. Then your expression clears. “Oh. Her? She’s just a friend.”

“I don’t believe you. Who. Is. She?” Tom grabs your other shoulder, barely holding back from shaking you.

“A-Aurora Greengrass,” you stammer out, looking even more startled by his anger. “I swear, we’re just friends—“

‘Just friends.’

That’s exactly what you’d called Tom’s relationship with you. A ‘just friends’ thing.

He doesn’t even listen to the rest of your words. Blind to everything but the fury in his veins, he starts rummaging through your shirt pocket. Looking for something. Anything to prove you wrong.

He only finds a pack of cigs and an old lighter.

He tosses them to the side and hauls you over to the nearest wall. Slamming you against it and holding you firmly in place with one hand. “Who is she to you?”

You stammer, unable to form words. Tom grips your shoulder tighter, pressing closer to you. “Answer me!”

“I— I can’t understand what you’re saying!” You cower in the face of his anger. “I can’t understand— Ahhh!”

You yelp and shudder as Tom’s hand grazes your groin. He ignores your reaction and digs into your pants’ pockets, looking for anything at all. There’s nothing but fabric and a single money bill.

Still, his hand continues to search, roaming from pocket to pocket like something will appear. Nothing does.

It only heightens his anger, makes his jaw clench with fury. His words coming out in a hiss. “Is she your lover? Your wife? Or is she just another useless little toy for you?”

You let out a pathetic little moan, hips jolting a bit. Tom’s vaguely aware that his hand has stopped wandering where it’s supposed to be. But he can’t be bothered to look.

“Answer me!” He spits out. “Who is she to you, really?”

“I can’t—“ Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine. “Tom, please! I— I can’t understand you!”

Your hips jolt again and Tom finally looks down. He’s groping you, hand wandering across your half-formed hard on. Unconsciously feeling you up.

And you’re not pushing him away.

In fact, you’re stifling a moan, resting your head back against the wall. Eyes half closed. As if you’re… enjoying this.

A plan forms in his mind. A wicked, wicked plan. If you’re not willing to answer him… he’ll just have to fuck the answer out of you.

“Couch,” he hisses, “Now!”

He yanks you after him, relishing the way you stumble. You don’t deserve his kindness right now; what you need is to be fucked dumb.

Tom pushes you down against the couch and reaches for your belt. You don’t even protest. You just whimper softly and let him do what he wants.

He pulls your cock out, sliding his thumb along the tip. You moan and arch up, precum coating his thumb.

“T-Tom!” You gasp as he fists your cock, gripping tight enough to make you see stars. Your hips thrust up automatically, fucking into the sweet pressure of his hand.

“Shut up!” Tom hisses, eyes narrowing. He starts to move his hand and you choke with pleasure.

“I can’t— fuck!” Your head is thrown back against the couch, hands gripping the cushions tight enough to make your knuckles white.

You moan and writhe under Tom as he guides his hand along your cock, shifting and changing the pressure until he finds what makes you gasp.

And then, he pulls back.

Making you almost sob from the loss.

You reach for him, voice cracking pathetically. “Tom, please…!”

He bats your hands away, manhandling you until you’re kneeling on the couch. Pants around your ankles.

You grip the back of the couch tightly, practically clinging to it as Tom undoes his own belt. He grabs your hands, looping the thick leather around them. Pinning your hands together. You’re tied up now, unable to free your hands.

Tom frees his own cock, lining himself up with your asshole. You shudder and whimper, face flushed red. “Please!”

“Needy little bastard,” Tom hisses. “Can barely even wait for me.”

You just moan and press back against him. “Fuck, that’s so hot…”

Slowly, Tom sinks into you. Inch by glorious inch, he slides his cock into your greedy little hole. You clench hotly around him, making his breathing stutter.

You feel divine.

Hot and tight and perfect.

He bottoms out, cock buried deep inside you. He grips your shoulders, resting his forehead against your back in an effort to keep from cumming on the spot.

You’re a moaning mess, soft pleading babbles mixed with whimpers and gasps. Tom can barely understand you, you’re so incoherent.

It’s exactly what he wants. You fucked out enough that you forget how to speak.

Finally, he starts to move. In and out, each thrust getting faster and more aggressive. Slowly building up until you’re sobbing underneath him, mindlessly whining with pleasure.

You look glorious. Perfect.

It’s like a dream come true, you underneath him finally, just like it was always meant to be.

The thought makes his hips stutter and he grips your cock. He won’t last long like this; you’re clenching around him too tightly.

With a couple good firm strokes, you’re spilling onto the couch, cumming with a loud cry.

Not even moments later, Tom thrusts into your ass, filling you up with a gasp of his own. He shudders and leans against you again, struggling to catch his breath.

Slowly, he pulls out of you, absently rubbing along your back. The rage is gone from him, leaving him feeling tired and drained.

“Are you…” Alright doesn’t seem like the right word for the situation.

But you just moan softly. Roll over onto your back and gaze up at him with dreamy eyes. “Fuck yeah…”

Tom chuckles softly, almost tenderly. He can’t help it. It’s you.

Gently, he undoes his belt around your hands. They flop uselessly to your sides, as boneless as the rest of you. You just melt into a puddle of dreamy gazes and soft smiles.

He literally fucked you dumb.

As you continue to bask in the afterglow of your fucking, clarity starts to return to Tom. This is his opportunity. His chance to look around and see what you’ve been doing with your life since he cut you out of his.

But…

Gazing down at you…

Tom settles himself on the couch next to you and pulls you into his arms. You happily snuggle into him, burying your face in his neck.

Snooping can wait.

It’s been forever since he had you all to himself like this.

And he’s planning on taking advantage of every moment he can get.

[cantstoptheimagines]

Hunger (Carmy Berzatto | The Bear)

Summary — Things boil over between you and Carmy.

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Smut (including a lowkey ‘Chef’ kink, Reader being referred to as ‘good girl’, also like one mention of birth control); Carmy mentions never having a girlfriend, so I’m rolling with that (aka Never-Been-Kissed!Virgin!Carmy is upon us!!); a little bit of angst on the side; mentions of childhood trauma and resulting body insecurities (Carmy); cursing (especially the canon-typical ‘Fuck!’); coworkers to lovers with a touch of idiots in love; some typical Original Beef arguments in the kitchen (including Carmy getting put in his place after being extremely mean); Reader accidentally gets burned by hot food; Reader is a waitress with an attitude; my attempts at casual, non-flowery, awkward, quiet conversation between Carmy and the Reader, so please don’t come after me if it sucks, lmao.

Notes ➳ Word Count is 7,942. This is a slow, slow, slow burn! Enjoy it, baby! ➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her). ➳ This is slightly inspired by the chaos of Season 1, Episode 7. I also want to add that this draft was started before the release of Season 2, so absolutely no spoilers in this one!

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Everything was a complete mess. An expected lunch rush had sent everything and everyone at The Beef into chaos.

You had a line of customers waiting on takeout orders while others were hoping for a table to open up. Some had immediately turned around at the door after seeing the crowd.

Richie stood behind the counter, trying his best to keep up. He gave you a nod as you cleared another table. The fake, ‘customer service’ smile on your face fell as soon as you left the dining room and entered the kitchen. Angel and Manny were both instantly by your side, taking the dishes from your arms. 

Your sigh of relief, however, didn’t last long. As soon as you turned, you were met by Sydney, who shoved a dish at you, shouting, “Hands! Once that’s out, I need you to come back for a sandwich and a salad!”

You barely caught the plate, replying, “Heard!” 

The plate was warm against your hands. The food, however, was burning hot when it flew off the dish and onto your exposed skin as someone interrupted your cry of, “Corner—!”

The plate shattered once it hit the floor, covering the tile in a mess of food. Sauce dripped down your clothes and practically seared your flesh. Amidst the hectic kitchen, only Sydney seemed to notice. She stared at you with a shocked expression as tears welled up in your eyes from the pain.

“—fucking going?!”

You blinked, clutching your blistering hand. You could already feel your skin becoming overly tender. Tears began to slide down your cheeks. Nearby, Tina had paused to see what the commotion was about with concerned eyes.

In front of you stood Carmy. Out of everyone who worked at The Beef, he was the person you were closest to. However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t an asshole sometimes, especially when the restaurant was busy like today.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and then you quietly asked, “What?”

The flaring pain you were feeling made it almost impossible to focus on what anyone was saying or doing. Carmy’s words, on the other hand, were loud and clear as he took a step closer and shouted, “I asked if you can watch where you’re fucking going?!” 

Your cheeks were wet with tears, which you couldn’t stop from falling, no matter how hard you blinked. Carmy was toe-to-toe with you. He was so close that you could see the sweat on his skin and the red flush of his cheeks. His teeth were gritted as he stared at you with fiery eyes. 

“Carmy,” you took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment, “don’t yell at me.”

He came even closer, shoes nearly slipping on the sauce that covered the tile. You avoided meeting his gaze as you continued holding your injured hand. Thankfully, the other one wasn’t as bad, though it still ached. 

“Why the fuck not, huh?!” he continued. “Open your damn eyes next time—!”

“Carmy, stop!” you demanded. “I’m hurting right now and you’re not helping—!”

“Maybe you wouldn’t be if you used your fucking brain!” he snapped, taking two fingers and harshly tapping them against your temple.

You tried to take a step back, only for him to follow. You pressed your lips together in an effort to contain yourself. Sure, you were used to Carmy’s regular outbursts, but this was on a whole other level.

His nose brushed against yours with how close he was standing. Sydney reached out, placing an arm between the two of you, though it wasn’t much help. Tina was slowly coming closer. Everyone else in the kitchen had stopped working to cautiously watch the scene. Even Richie had paused service in the front to stand in the kitchen doorway, ready to step in if he needed to.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that, Carmy—!”

“I’ll do whatever I fucking want—!”

Richie finally spoke up, “Hey, cousin, leave ‘er alone, alright—?”

“I’m gonna fuck you up if don’t get outta my face—!”

Sydney was beginning to sweat, “Chef! Please calm down—!”

“If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of my fucking kitchen—!”

SLAP!

“¡Ay, mierda!” exclaimed Tina, mouth agape as your uninjured hand suddenly struck Carmy’s cheek.

The silence that took over was almost deadly. Carmy licked his lips and clenched his jaw. His cheek was already turning bright red with your handprint. A million thoughts ran through his mind as he stared at you.

“If you don’t have anything nice to say to me,” you glared, “then don’t fucking talk, Carmen! You can fuck off instead!”

Carmy kissed his teeth, refusing to open his mouth. Instead, he watched as you whipped around and stormed away from him. You were once again holding your injured hand, in which the pain was only growing worse by the second, as you disappeared around a corner without looking back.

Carmy closed his eyes and ran his hands over his face. He didn’t even need to look at the expressions of his coworkers’ faces to know that he had fucked up big time.

His eyes met Sydney’s as he tugged at his thick hair. She, however, only turned away and returned to calling out orders after shaking her head. Richie, meanwhile, gave him the finger before going back to the front to continue lunch service. Everyone else in the kitchen either gave him harsh glares or stares of disappointment.

“Chef!” he called out, gaining Sydney’s attention. “I’ll be back in a few!”

Sydney slowly nodded, “Heard!” 

Carmy glanced down, looking at the mess that covered the kitchen tile, along with his work shoes. Pieces of the shattered plate were spread about as well.

“I’ll clean this up when I get back,” he said, gesturing to the floor.

“Heard!” repeated Sydney, though Carmy could tell she wished he would just leave already.

“Thank you, Chef,” he muttered.

As he passed by Marcus, the usually kind pastry chef glared at him, “You’re a real mess, Berzatto.”

Carmy sighed, slowly making his way around the same corner you disappeared behind only moments ago, “Tell me about it.”

Ebra shouted after him with a bark of laughter, “We don’t have to! You’re gonna find out when you go back there!”

Carmy rolled his eyes, turning the knob on the door that led to the back lot. That was where everyone, including you, disappeared whenever they needed to be alone.

He immediately spotted you sitting on the ground with the restaurant’s first aid kit in front of you. The injury on your hand was now covered with some burn relief gel.

You barely even glanced in his direction when the door closed behind him. The air outside was rather cold and Carmy could see the chills that covered your skin.

He nervously wrapped his hands in the hem of his apron, and then cleared his throat, “I’m sorry.” 

“Whatever,” you shook your head.

He paused, unsure of what he should say next as he blinked a few times. Finally, he licked his lips and stared down at his shoes, “Are you—uh—are you okay? I mean, you’re good?”

You scoffed quietly, shaking your head with a sardonic smile as you finished wrapping your injury with some gauze, “No, Carmy, I’m not good. Fucking asshole.”

Carmy took a deep breath, nodding slowly, “Yeah, yeah, alright. I deserve that. You—uh—gonna go early? Home, I mean? Go home early?”

You slammed the first aid kit closed, the latch snapping into place with a click! Standing up, you shoved it into Carmy’s arms, causing him to grunt at the impact against his chest. 

“Yes,” you said, “I’m going fucking home early.” 

He groaned as you pushed past him to go back inside. He slowly trailed behind you, watching you collect your coat and keys. He grimaced at the loud SLAM! of your employee locker. He knew everyone in the kitchen secretly had their ears open, each of them trying to figure out how badly Carmy had messed things up with you.

As you tried to slip past him once more, he reached out to place an arm across your front. He remained facing the empty room of employee lockers while you were facing the kitchen, forced to endure the cautious eyes of your coworkers.

With a sigh, you finally turned your gaze to him, unsure of what to make of his actions, “What?”

“Go to the doctor, alright?” he muttered, eyes gliding over your features.

Everything was much calmer now. Everyone in the kitchen seemed to have finally cleared out some of the crowd, leaving only a few stragglers. Each of them took an occasional glance at the two of you.

You bit your bottom lip. You couldn’t help but be fully aware of the way Carmy’s startling blue eyes suddenly dropped to focus on your mouth. And you definitely couldn’t stop your own gaze from doing the same, admiring the soft pink shade of his lips.

Maybe it was wrong to be so attracted to your boss. But when your boss was Carmy, you didn’t really care. And there were times, like now, when it felt as though he didn’t care either.

Sure, he could be a real asshole sometimes, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t easy on the eyes. Your eyes, more specifically.

“Yo, cousin, we’ve got—! Oh!”

Carmy finally tore his stare away from you, and said, “Just a sec, Richie.”

“Yeah,” nodded Richie, tossing his hands into the air. “Yeah, sure. Didn’t mean to interrupt... whatever this is.”

Carmy rolled his eyes before finally returning his attention to you. His stare softened and his fingers dug into the clothing that covered your hip with a gentle squeeze.

“Doctor,” he whispered, “‘kay?”

You finally muttered, “Okay, Bear.”

Carmy gave you a nod, heart pounding when he heard his nickname fall from your lips. Your hip received a few pats and a gentle rub before his arm disappeared from your path. As you walked away, he finally turned to face everyone in the kitchen, all of whom had their eyes on him.

“Well,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “get back to fucking work!”

At the same time, he could hear you ordering Richie, who had followed you to the front, to ‘shut his fucking mouth’.

You unlocked the back entrance of The Beef. It was way past closing time and each of your coworkers had already gone home. In fact, you had only come back to get the tips you had left behind after your argument and semi-reconciliation with Carmy.

You flicked on one set of smaller lights before making your way through the kitchen and into the front room. Richie always cashed out your tips for you before his shift over and tonight was no different. On the counter, right next to the register, you found a wad of cash and a sticky note with your name on it.

Unfortunately, you were too focused on counting out the money to notice someone appear in the doorway. That is, until they spoke, “Hey.”

You gasped in surprise, clutching at your chest in a failed attempt to stop your pounding heart, “Fuck! Are you trying to kill me?!”

Carmy smiled down at his feet as he leaned against the kitchen’s door frame. He watched you shove your tips into the pocket of your heavy coat. He nodded towards your hand, and asked, “Rent due?”

You nodded back, “Yeah. Tomorrow morning.”

He hummed quietly, “See a doctor?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Gave me some stuff to put on it. They said it should be good in a week or two. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was gonna be.” 

“Right,” he said, twisting the hem of his apron around his hands.

He watched your eyes drift to where his fingers wrapped themselves in the blue fabric. The realization that the two of you were alone, without the stress of your loud coworkers or a line of customers, overwhelmed him.

“You do that a lot, ya know,” you said, gesturing to his hands, “when you’re nervous and stuff.”

He shuffled awkwardly, shook his head, and then shrugged, “Hard not to be. We cool?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. One of Carmy’s hands rose to his lips, allowing him to anxiously bite his nails, while the other disappeared into his pocket. The soft glow coming from the back of the kitchen made him look like an angel.

A tired, fidgety, nervous wreck of an angel.

It was hard for him to breathe when you suddenly moved closer and closer until you stood mere inches away from him. He stared at your hand that untucked itself from your coat pocket. Yet, it wasn’t until you gently wrapped your fingers around his forearm, tugging his hand away from his nail-biting habit, that he knew it was over for him. 

“Carmy?”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”

His mind flashed back to all the times Richie had caught him staring at you and made fun of him for doing so.

And how after Sydney had first met you, she turned to him after you had walked away and quietly asked if you were his girlfriend.

And the way Tina almost beat his ass earlier for shouting at you so viciously after everyone else had left for the night, leaving him to wallow alone in his office.

Or the way he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to your lips while your hand gently rubbed his arm, listening closely as you whispered, “We’re cool.” 

“Good,” he muttered.

Your lips parted with a soft, shuddering gasp. Slowly, Carmy had tilted his head and began leaning in. Your grip on him tightened just as his free hand untucked itself from his pocket. His palm slid under your coat and landed on the same hip he had held earlier that day.

His nose brushed against yours. His fingers dug into you, splayed out against your clothed waist. His eyes slowly fell shut as did yours. After that, it didn’t take long before your lips met his.

You could feel the warmth of his cheeks when you placed your palms against them. You pulled him closer until you could wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, intertwining your fingers in his hair.

Carmy’s lips moved against yours tentatively. His other hand slowly slipped beneath your coat to caress your back. He groaned at the feeling of you gently scratching his scalp as your fingers ran through his hair.

Slowly, he pulled away, but only slightly. Your hands dropped to his shoulders and then traveled along his strong arms before finally wrapping around his waist. His apron loosened when you tugged at the strings.

Carmy felt his cheeks warm as he allowed you to remove the blue fabric from his body. He watched it fall to the floor and then made an effort to copy your movements, gently pushing your coat off your shoulders before letting it join his apron.

He sighed softly when you pressed your lips against his in a series of short, gentle kisses, “I’ve—uh—I’ve never…”

He trailed off quietly, feeling slightly embarrassed. Richie had always given him shit for being a virgin. But Carmy had gone through life without friends, let alone girlfriends.

“Carmy?”

His lip quivered when his eyes met yours again. He was surprised to find your gaze void of judgment. Instead, you gave him a small smile and gently pressed your hands into his lower back. He hummed quietly when you repeated his name.

Glancing at his lips, you murmured, “Do you want to?”

Despite the millions of thoughts running through his mind, he was still very clear, albeit quiet, with his answer, “With you? Yeah.”

You nodded silently. One of your hands gently pushed some of his thick, messy hair behind his ear. His eyes fell closed at the feeling.

“Was that your first kiss?”

“You gonna laugh at me if it was?” he asked.

You smiled at the way his cheeks flushed with red, and replied, “‘Course not. It’s like that for lots of people.”

He licked his lips, opening his eyes. His fingertips went deeper into your hips. Fuck, you were being so nice to him.

“It was,” he confessed. “That was my first kiss. I’ve never done any of it. Dates, girlfriends, none of it.”

“Okay,” you said, still allowing your fingers to trace through his hair. “You still want to?”

He paused, eyes exploring your features, “Yeah.”

“We can stop any time you want,” you said. “Don’t be afraid to tell me if you’re uncomfortable.” 

Carmy licked his lips again, hooded eyes drifting to your mouth. Slowly, he nodded and pressed his forehead against yours. His eyes closed and your noses brushed. He could his heart pounding in his chest, briefly wondering if you could as well as he collided his lips with yours once again. 

His fingers delved deeper into your hips. Your hands, meanwhile, tugged at his thick hair, forcing a grunt out of him. He was surprised by how much he liked the feeling. 

Pulling away, though not far enough to avoid the kisses that were now being pressed onto his jaw, Carmy quietly gasped for air, head tilting back as he asked, “Can we go to my office?”

He felt you nod against him in response. He then tugged you along in the direction of his office, biting his lip at the feeling of your mouth on his warm skin. He turned the two of you so that he could see where he was going. Not that doing so was much help since his eyes began fluttering at the feeling of a gentle bite sinking into the flesh of his neck.

One of his hands left your hip momentarily. His palm gripped at one of the metal counters in the kitchen, barely steadying himself. He was nearly tripping over his own feet, distracted by the pleasure you were already sending throughout his body. 

His hand quickly left the countertop. It found a new place on the back of your neck, but only after the two of you finally made it into his office, where he immediately pulled you into another kiss.

Slowly, your hands disappeared from his hair, opting to slip beneath the fabric of his shirt and gently scratch his back instead. You smiled against his lips, nearly breaking the kiss, upon noticing him shiver at the feeling. He practically arched into you, both of his hands moving to your cheeks in order to deepen the kiss.

His white shirt complimented the golden chain around his neck. It was something you had seen him wear plenty of times. And for Carmy, he wasn’t sure if he wanted that to change just yet.

He paused when you began to slide his shirt up, obviously preparing to remove it from his body. He gently wrapped his hands around your forearms to stop you. His lips then moved away from yours. His head ducked as he cleared his throat, avoiding your concerned gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, eyes beginning to burn. “I’m—uh—It’s just—I don’t—I don’t think—! Shit, I’m sorry! Sorry! Sorry—!” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” you interrupted, gently wiping away any tears that had started to make an appearance on his cheeks. “It’s okay. You’re okay, Carmy.” 

He sniffled, cheeks warming with embarrassment, upon having felt your hands withdraw from underneath his shirt. His breathing had quickened, along with his heartbeat.

Carmy hid his face against your neck when one of your arms wrapped around him. You softly rubbed the space between his shoulders. Your other hand gently stroked the back of his head, fingers running through his hair once more. Meanwhile, his hands had dropped to your ribs in an effort to steady himself again. 

“We can stop—”

He interrupted you within seconds, shaking his head as he finally met your eyes, “No. I don’t want to. I—uh—I’m just—my childhood wasn’t the best, ya know? Parents were always fightin’ over stupid shit. And sometimes, my dad—well, he—uh—he’d take some of it out on us—”

“Oh, Carmy,” you whispered, leaning your forehead against his.

He continued, caressing your ribs with his thumbs, “He didn’t do it a lot, but, ya know, my back’s kinda, like, got scars and stuff.”

Pulling him closer, you nodded, still allowing him to lead the conversation, “Okay. Okay.” 

“I promise I wanna do this,” he sniffled again before taking a deep sigh, “but I wanna keep my shirt on. For now anyway. For this time.” 

You nodded again, giving him a small smile and lightly tracing the variety of small freckles on his cheeks, “Of course. Anything you want.”

Carmy hesitantly met your eyes. The startling ocean blue sent chills down your spine, especially when he muttered, “God, you’re so fucking sweet.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to reply. Instead, his hands traveled to your back and pushed you against him in a quick, unwavering motion. He groaned at the feeling of your fingertips imprinting themselves into the fabric of his shirt. His lips moved against yours in yet another heated kiss, though this one was much more desperate than the others had been. 

In that moment, as your hands wandered along his clothed back, venturing to the waistband of his pants, Carmy could picture himself falling in love with you.

In the space between your kisses, gasps of air escaped your throat, “Let me make you feel good, Bear.”

Carmy nodded. His lower back gently collided with the edge of his desk. He watched as you slowly undid his pants. He groaned and his cheeks flushed red at the sight of you lowering to your knees. One of his hands shifted to grip his desk while the other raked through his hair.

Before he knew it, his pants were pooling around his ankles and his hard-on was showing prominently through his briefs. His head tilted back and his gaze met the ceiling as your fingers delved into the waistband of the fabric covering his throbbing cock.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, closing his eyes.

“Carmy?” your quiet voice cut through the tension. “You still okay?”

“I’m fucking perfect,” he whispered. “Please keep going.”

Your amusement was obvious. Carmy hissed when your smiling lips met the flesh of his stomach. He slightly tugged up the hem of his shirt in order to give you more access to his briefs, trying to prepare himself for his first blowjob ever.

The hand that had been in his hair quickly entangled itself in your own. His briefs were slowly being removed with every kiss you gave his skin, your movements trailing lower and lower with every passing second. You stopped at the last possible moment, pulling away and giving a final tug at his briefs.

At last, they fell, finding their place around Carmy’s ankles, alongside his pants. He couldn’t help but watch as his cock sprang free, nearly slapping against his stomach. You eyed it for a moment, licking your lips at the sight of the dark vein on the side and the way it curved slightly to the left. 

Carmy took your pause for negativity. His thumb softly caressed your temple as he murmured, “You alright—? Oh, shit!”

He was suddenly on cloud nine. Fire burned in his chest. Both of his hands moved to tightly grip the back of your neck. One of your hands grasped onto his tense forearm while the other held his cock. Your tongue traced over the vein that you had been admiring. 

His eyes closed and his head tilted back. He could feel you smiling as you pressed a kiss against his cock’s mushroom-shaped head. Your lips trailed along his length until you reached his balls. 

“Fuck!” he groaned, mouth falling open.

The way your tongue lapped at his balls while your hand stroked his swollen length set his stomach on fire. He could feel a layer of sweat beginning to appear on his forehead.

You were a fucking god. And Carmy felt ready to worship you.

Suddenly, you were at the head of his cock again, slowly taking him into your warm mouth. Carmy looked down to watch it happen and nearly came at the sight of you.

Your lips stretched around him. His hands moved to be on either side of your face, gently caressing your temples with the pads of his thumbs. Both of your palms wrapped around his bare thighs.

Carmy hissed at the feeling of his cock disappearing into your mouth as you began bobbing your head along his length. Though when he felt you fondle his balls with a sudden squeeze, he couldn’t stop an abrupt buck of his hips. 

You gagged when the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. He furrowed his eyebrows, concerned, as you pulled away, gasping for air. He wiped away the saliva that had built up at the corners of your lips, “Shit! You okay? I didn’t—I didn’t mean to do that!” 

You sniffed, laughing as you brushed off the small tears that came from your eyes, “Yeah, I’m good.” 

Unsure of what to say, Carmy nodded silently. He continued tracing your temples in an effort to comfort you, trying to ignore his cock, which continued to throb between his legs. Meanwhile, you rubbed at his thighs, still trying to catch your breath. 

“Hey, hey,” he muttered, tilting your head upwards to meet his gaze, “you sure you’re alright?” 

Your eyebrows rose, your fingertips dug into his flesh, and then you smiled, “I’m fine. But Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re fucking huge.” 

And in yet another wave of shyness, Carmy couldn’t stop the blush that appeared on his face. You chuckled, leaning forward to kiss the space above his pelvis, slowly wrapping a hand around his cock once more. Your eyes remained on him as his lips fell open and moans escaped his chest.

“Hey?” you muttered. 

He watched as you leaned against his stomach, resting your chin atop the fabric of his shirt to stare up at him. He shivered at the way your pupils grew. They nearly overtook your irises, leaving only a sliver of their nature shade. 

“Yeah?”

Your teeth dug into your lower lip. Carmy admired the glow that had overwhelmed your skin. He shuddered when your hand tugged particularly hard at his cock.

“Can you fuck my face, Chef?” you whispered. “I want your cock down my throat ‘til I can’t breathe.” 

“Fuck,” he muttered, thumbs softly caressing your cheeks. “You sure? I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you breathed. “I want you to feel good, Carmy.” 

He hissed at the sudden feeling of your tongue once again tracing over his length. The head of his cock was then repeatedly kissed in a soothing pattern. One of his hands moved to tightly grip the edge of his desk. The other continued smoothing over the skin of your cheek as you took him back into your mouth.

With a hand on his thigh and the other shifting to wrap around his forearm, you slowly dragged his hand to the back of your neck. Carmy panted heavily at the feeling of his hard cock sinking deeper into your throat. He successfully held back his quivering hips, not wanting to accidentally choke you a second time. 

His fingers dug into your skin, his mouth fell open, and heat rose beneath his skin. He looked down to find you with nearly his entire cock in your mouth. The sensation of your tongue swirling around him made him want to cum on the spot. And he nearly did so when your lips finally met the base of his cock. 

Your nose dug into his pelvis. He then felt the mushroom-shaped head of his cock reach the back of your throat, only you didn’t pull away for a fresh burst of air this time. He caressed the back of your neck in an effort to ease the tension. 

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes, soaking your eyelashes. You were doing your best to breathe through your nose. His grip on you tightened when your eyes suddenly looked up at him.

The sight of you staring at him with tear-filled eyes and your lips stretched around his cock made him curse. Both hands quickly returned to your face so he could brush away the glistening tears. After admiring your flushed appearance, he muttered, “You ready?” 

He took the moan you let out around his length as confirmation. The vibrations of it, along with the way your fingers were now tightly grasping at the backs of his thighs in preparation, made him hiss with pleasure. 

He groaned at the wet sounds of your mouth as he began gently thrusting in and out of your throat. He cursed repeatedly, especially when you continued to moan around him. Upon seeing you shut your eyes, however, he patted your cheek to bring your focus back to him.

He smiled down at you when you met his gaze, “Eyes on me, alright? You’re makin’ me feel so—ah!—good right now. Oh, fuck! You’re fucking amazing, ya know that? Oh!” 

Heat was growing in the pit of your stomach when you realized how much pleasure you were giving him. You could feel yourself becoming wetter and wetter by the second. 

You couldn’t help but gag around him when he suddenly gave a rough thrust. You were sure his thighs would have finger-shaped bruises by the end of the night with how strong your grip on him was. 

Carmy’s thrusts were picking up pace. He tossed his head back, eyes shut tight and his mouth agape with silent moans. You wanted him to fuck your face? Then he would do exactly that. 

He repeatedly shoved you down to the base of his cock. With every thrust of his hips, he felt his balls slap against you. The sounds of you practically gasping for air as you choked on his length made him shiver with a blissful expression.

“Fuck!” he groaned. “So fucking good! You’re perfect, ya know?”

His moans continued. The echoes of his cock pumping in and out of your mouth caused warmth to slowly build up within the pit of his stomach. With a few final thrusts, he pressed himself as deep as he could into your throat.

You choked around the sudden release of cum that flooded your mouth. Your eyes squeezed shut as Carmy pressed you further onto his length. Your nose dug into the skin of his pelvis and you were slowly losing the ability to breathe.

Carmy grunted, now gazing down at you with heavily lidded eyes, as his cock released thick, white ropes of his cum. He huffed in an effort to regain his breath. You, however, made that difficult with each and every time you swallowed around him, taking in all of his cum without a second thought. 

His cock was still hard when you finally pulled away. Your tongue ran over the tip while one of your hands moved to stroke his length. Before you could send him tumbling into overstimulation, Carmy tugged you upwards. 

His lips met yours in a searing kiss, barely able to keep hold of you between heavy pants. You could practically feel his confidence finally starting to bloom within him. 

Twirling in order to switch your positions, you tugged him closer, urging him to help you onto his messy desk. He quickly did so after reaching out to shove aside what seemed like a million unorganized papers. They fell to the floor, some even crumpling beneath his shoes as he stepped on them. 

His large, tattooed hands slipped beneath your shirt as he moaned at the feeling of your lips against his neck. He grasped onto the back of your bra and tugged... to no avail. Thankfully, you didn’t seem to notice. 

His face flushed red, especially when your clothed thighs squeezed closer to his hips. His cock began to throb as it met the covered space between your legs, desperate and eager for what was to come. 

Carmy furrowed his eyebrows and tried a second time to unclasp your bra. When it refused to budge, he couldn’t help but curse. And he nearly let out another when your affections came to a pause. 

Your kisses slowed. Pressing one against his ear, you whispered, “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied. 

You tried not to laugh when you felt another tug, “Carm? D’you need help?” 

He cursed a little louder. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to conceal a grin as you tucked your face into the crevice of his shoulder. When he confirmed your suspicions, you leaned away and did your best to give him a warm, comforting smile. You unhooked your bra and removed it from beneath your shirt with ease, tossing it aside. 

Carmy’s expression shifted into one of frustration, though his eyes shined with a bit of awe, “How the fuck did you do that?” 

Your hands ran over his shoulders as you asked, “Really wanna have that conversation right now?” 

He paused for a moment, seemingly taking some time to think over your words, “Fuck no.” 

You allowed yourself to laugh that time, “Then come here.” 

Carmy found it difficult to breathe when you tugged him closer. The scent of your shampoo fogged his mind as he hid your face against your neck. Your hands guided his, leading them beneath your shirt. He let out a deep sigh when his palms met the warmth of your skin. 

As his hands began tentatively exploring your breasts, he tried to ease his nerves by layering a series of open-mouthed kisses against the column of your throat. Meanwhile, you busied yourself with undoing your pants. 

“You have big hands, Carm,” you muttered, leaning your cheek against his messy head of hair as he indulged him in his affections. 

Big, warm, tattooed hands. His thumbs ran over your nipples occasionally as he gently squeezed you. His fingers dug into the plush of your skin. 

Despite having little room with the way Carmy was leaning against you, you managed to push your pants off your waist, shifting your hips in order to do so. As he continued palming at your breasts, he flushed a deeper shade of red, thankful his face was still hidden from your view. 

“Is that a good thing?” he questioned. “Big hands?” 

He felt you nod in response, “It’s hot.” 

In more ways than one, he believed, due to the heat building up in his stomach. His forehead had developed a thin layer of sweat as well. He followed your lead when you directed his hands to your hips instead. When his fingertips met the hem of your underwear, he inhaled sharply. 

“Think you can get these off without any help?” 

He stopped pressing warm kisses against your neck to meet your gaze. With narrowed eyes, he tilted his head at your teasing tone, licking his lips with an amused grin, “Shut up. What happened to the nice, sweet, good girl from before?” 

Holy shit. 

His comment made you pause. Your semi-arrogant smile fell, becoming one of shyness instead. Carmy’s, on the other hand, brightened. He had somehow managed to turn the tables. Seems like it was your turn to be embarrassed. 

He ran his hands over your thighs, gently pulling you closer. He continued to smile as you avoided his gaze. 

“Hey,” he muttered, placing a hand on your cheek and encouraging your eyes to meet his, “d’you like it when I call you that?” 

His smile was softer now. His body language, however, was giving off a newfound confidence, something you didn’t get to see very often. But with the way he caressed your skin, palms rubbing you soothingly in a steady pattern, you could tell he genuinely wanted to know. 

He furrowed his eyebrows when you offered a mumbled reply, “Hmm?” 

With shivers running along your spine and an affirming nod, you repeated yourself, “I do. Yes.”

“Yes, who?” he asked, cursing himself only seconds later for the question.

You couldn’t stop yourself from taking a deep breath in surprise. Your eyes fell to his lips, thinking about feeling them on yours again. Carmy watched you carefully when they did so. His cock throbbed heavily between his legs as the head gently bumped against your clothed entrance with every move he made. 

You met his eyes again when his fingers delved into the flesh of your thigh. Admiring his blown pupils, you answered, “Yes, Chef.” 

Both of his hands came to your hips. His fingers sunk into the hem of your underwear as he whispered, “Can I?” 

He slowly slid the fabric down your legs when you gave him a whispered confirmation. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you pulled him closer. His lips hovered over yours with a groan as your free hand wrapped around his cock.

“Are you sure?” 

Carmy’s eyes, which had been squeezed shut, slowly fluttered open. They flew over your features before he finally nodded, “Yeah.” 

Your lips met his in a soft kiss before your forehead came to rest against his. With your hand gently stroking his length, Carmy couldn’t stop himself from letting out a gasp. He looked down to watch your movements with desperate, hooded eyes. 

You ran the mushroom head through your wet folds. Carmy would’ve been embarrassed by his fascination at the way his cock glistened with your wetness if he wasn’t too busy groaning in pleasure. 

“Gotta go slow, okay? I’ll have to adjust,” you said, and then a quiet laugh filled the air between the two of you. “Like I told you, you’re big.”  

Carmy was sure his skin was cherry red by now, due to a combination of the growing heat in his stomach and your compliments. His mouth fell open and his eyebrows furrowed when your hand eased the head of his cock into your entrance. He couldn’t stop his fingers dug into your skin, creating indents on your thighs. 

Arms encasing your lower back, he pressed himself closer, furthering the reach of his cock. His chest met yours, both of your shirts rubbing against the other. He could both see and feel your hardened nipples through the fabric. 

Your hand that had been guiding him moved upwards, threading through his thick, unruly hair. He didn’t even need to move for you to start letting out a series of gasping moans. The sheer size of him was enough. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you nudged him as close as you could. His warmth melted into yours. His skin was aglow with heat, effort, and sweat. His length sinks deeper, stretching you wide and open for him. You hiss at the feeling. 

Oh, yeah. He’s definitely the biggest you’ve ever had. 

You kiss the bridge of his nose as you adjust to his size. Carmy quickly raises his head so his lips can meet yours. It’s a struggle, given how difficult it is for either of you to properly breathe at the moment. 

Carmy’s cheeks are flushed red entirely. He’s burning on the inside with a newfound desperation for you. His cock throbs inside your walls and he feels as though he’s being drowned in your body by the pressure. Meanwhile, you can hardly focus on anything besides the noises he continuously lets out. 

He hisses and groans with every shift, not expecting the feeling to be so tight. You’re dripping with so much arousal that it’s nearly soaking his pelvis and thighs. As his hands traveled under the fabric of your shirt to practically claw at your back, he can’t help but think about how the feeling of you around him is infinitely better than that of his own fist. 

In that moment, Carmy knew you had ruined him for anyone else. He was completely, without any doubt in his mind, yours. And fucking proud of it too. 

“You can move,” you whispered, strengthening your grip around his shoulders and tugging at his hair. 

One of his arms curled further around you. His palm landed between your shoulder blades, slowly gliding over your skin that was hidden beneath your shirt. The other wrapped around your lower back. 

His cheek leaned against yours as he gasped heavily into your ear after the first roll of his hips. Your hand continued to pull at his dark strands of hair, the other tangling itself in his shirt. 

Slowly, he rocked into you, the pace starting off easy and unhurried. Given his size, you could already feel the head of Carmy’s cock gently bumping against your cervix. You gasped heavily with each of his movements. Your body writhed against him. 

“Faster,” you muttered. “Carmy, go faster. Oh, fuck, please.” 

Carmy melted at the way your moans echoed throughout his office. He huffed repeatedly with effort as his thrusts steadily increased. The slapping of skin, along with the slick sounds of your wet entrance, filled the room. Carmy couldn’t help but curse when your teeth suddenly sunk into the crevice of his neck. 

“Shit!” he exclaimed. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good! Could stay inside you forever! Damn it! Wanna stay, wanna stay!”  

Your mind felt empty of anything besides Carmy. His warm breath hitting your skin as he rambled on and on. The way he clawed at you desperately, trying to bring you impossibly closer. How his balls were repeatedly slapping against your dripping arousal. 

“Carmy!” you whined, trying your best to redirect his grip on you, which was rather difficult due to his lightning pace. “Here! Touch me here! Make me cum! Make me let go on your cock! Oh, shit, you’re—ah!” 

You guided his fingers against your clit. Despite his state of pleasured delirium, Carmy seemed to understand what you wanted from him. He massaged the bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves down your spine. 

The tightly wound cord within you finally snaps. You cry out, gripping onto Carmy in order to gain at least some sense of stability. He continues to rut in and out of you like no tomorrow.

The only inclination that he knows you’ve finally cum is the pitchy moan he lets out when your walls constrict his cock with every wave of release. His hand is covered in your cum and he can’t stop himself from pulling his face out of hiding.

With one arm still around you and his hips still slapping loudly, he’s quite the vision when he suddenly brings his fingers to his mouth. It’s then, as he gets a taste of you, that he decides you’re his new favorite meal. In just one night, you’ve made him insatiable.

His hand goes for another round, trying to collect more of your wetness on his fingertips. Meanwhile, you’re beginning to collapse into overstimulation. You take to pressing your forehead against Carmy’s shoulder, panting and huffing as his throbbing length continues to delve deep into your dripping hole. 

Carmy’s trying his best to take in every bit of you that he can, repeatedly collecting your release to press against his tongue as he pounds into you. He rubs at your clit with reckless abandon, craving more of the taste. 

“Please, please,” he begged, distressed at the very idea that you might not cum again. “Wanna keep tasting you! You’re so fucking good!” 

He’s unaware that your moans are no longer coherent. The only thing that continues to tumble from your lips is the sound of your uncontrollable gasps for air and an occasional curse.

Given it was his first time, you hadn’t expected him to have so much stamina. His thrusts seemed impossibly fast, pistoning in and out of you at lightning speed without a second thought. 

Sinking against him, another orgasm washed over you as your mouth fell open in a silent scream. Carmy groaned at the feeling of your walls tightening around his cock, “Fuck, I can’t—! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum, fuck, oh—!” 

His entire lower half rolls into you. He can feel crescents forming in his skin with how deep your nails are digging into him. He thrusts again, once, twice, and then a third time before he’s spilling into you. His cum seeps out around his cock, forming a white ring at the base. 

Despite hardly being able to breathe, he pulls you into a kiss. His lips move against yours in gentle movements. It’s a stark contrast to the way he had been pounding into you only seconds ago. His length is beginning to soften inside you, which you’re slightly grateful for. You weren’t entirely sure you’d make it through another round of that. 

“Are you okay?” he muttered, lips haphazardly meeting yours as his cock leaves you. “Shit, I didn’t mean to cum inside. I’m sorry.” 

You shook your head, “I’m on birth control. And I can get a morning-after pill.” 

He nods in response and then his eyebrows scrunch up. You almost laugh, wanting nothing more than to smooth out the ridges between them. Your hands glide over the fabric of his shirt, tracing over his chest absentmindedly. 

Pressing another kiss against his jaw, you ask him just to make sure, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, hands slipping beneath your shirt in order to rub your back. “It’s just—uh—I don’t know, it’s stupid—”

“I’m sure it’s not,” you interrupted, not wanting him to lose the confidence you had seen in him only minutes prior. “What is it? You can tell me anything.” 

His eyes quickly darted to the side. Although they only did so for a split second, you still noticed. Following the direction of his glance, your gaze lands on your discarded bra.

Carmy lets out a quiet curse as he zips up his pants, realizing that he had been caught. He ignores your smirk while he pulls you off his desk and helps you do the same. Even though helping you put your clothes back on is something no one else had ever done for you after sex before, you knew it was at least partially meant to distract you from your new revelation.

You quickly decide, however, that you can’t help yourself. With a smile, you quietly say his name in an effort to bring his attention back to you. 

“Hmm?” he muttered, trying to ignore the way your hands trace gently over his shoulders while he rebuttons your pants. 

You slowly tilt his head, leaving him with no choice but to meet your eyes. You repeat his name in a sing-song voice, “Carmy!” 

He grasped your hands in his and pulled them away from his face. He quickly distracts himself by playing with your fingers. After a moment, he sighed before looking at you with softened eyes. 

“Can you teach me the bra thing now?” 

Your face brightens with an amused laugh. Carmy instantly groans in embarrassment, throwing his head back and swatting gently at your backside with a muttered, “Stop that! I told you it was fucking dumb!” 

“No, no,” you shook your head, still chuckling as he rolled his eyes. “Pass it here, Berzatto. Then you can keep it as a homework assignment.” 

He muttered a curse under his breath, which only made you fall into another fit of laughter. He then picked your bra up from the floor and handed it over. With an arm on either side of your hips, he rests his palms on his desk that sat behind you. All his weight leans onto them and you can’t help but smile at how close he is while he stares intently at your hands, waiting for you to begin your lesson.

[marlenesluv]

heyy i was wondering if u could write a max, daniel, or carlos x super southern (like from the DEEP south/not texas) dallas cowboys cheerleader (kleine powell fc plz shes so gorg) smau and everyone is surprised that theyre together. or alternatively same premise but with an lsu tiger girl (fc darah haidet) and shes a lot younger. us southern girls get no rep lmao and ily

Unexpected. (DR)

hi! thank you sm for the request. i absolutely love this sm!! i went with daniel for this one, he’s too cute. i genuinely never see any southern girl stuff, so i hope you love this! and ily too!!also, y/n is a dcc, but she’s from louisiana. i never mention a state tho so you can imagine a diff one!!

pairing: daniel ricciardo x dcc!reader

fc: kleine powell

warnings: none!

note: i went ahead and made this not a soft launch (im limited with photos lol) also age gap is 8 yrs in this one!

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: y/n.user, pierregasly, and 1,872,055 others

tagged: y/n.user

danielricciardo: hiked a bit, and picked up this pretty lady along the way

view comments…

landonorris: you have a girlfriend? i never thought i’d see the day

|> danielricciardo: you’re talking??

y/n.fp: is that our girl?? our cowgirl is dating a man that makes cars go vroom!?!?

|> f1.fp: when worlds collide

y/n.user: wouldnt have wanted to hike those 12 miles with anyone else :)

|> danielricciardo: :)))

dcc.fans: does this mean daniel is gonna come to games?

charles_leclerc: is she converting you full cowboy?

|> y/n.user: of course i am🙃🤠

yourbsf: awwww, you guys are so cute. pls let me meet him

|> y/n.user: soon, honey🫣

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liked by: danielricciardo, francisca.cgomes, and 862,274 others

tagged: danielricciardo

y/n.user: who’s going to tell him that these are not the dcc colors….💙🤍

view comments…

fanpage.dcc: UNEXPECTED RELATIONSHIP

|> y/n.fanpage: LOVE IT THO??

danielricciardo: sugar, it’s texas’ colors…..

|> y/n.user: i’m not from texas daniel, we’ve been over this😐

|> danielricciardo: let me grab my blue and white before the game

|> y/n.user: thank you, hun☺️

pierregasly: have fun with his annoying ass

|> danielricciardo: HEY. she loves my ass, thank you very much

|> y/n.user: 😇

formula1fp: this was not on my bingo card for this year. i’m not mad about it tho

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twitter:

Formula 1 Wag News @formulaonewags • 2d

New Wag: Y/N Y/L/N has been posted by Daniel Ricciardo recently, saying that he “picked up this pretty lady” referring to Y/N. She is a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader, at 26 years old. They have yet to officially announce their relationship, but with both posting, daniel going to games, and not denying their friends, we have strong reasons to believe they are dating.

|

DCC Updates @dccupdates • 2d

We think thet have been seeing each other or talking for a while. Y/N has stayed away from guys at parties (via her friends posts) and Daniel has been posting a lot at home. Maybe this has been going on for a while?

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.user, carlossainz55, and 2,109,240 others

tagged: y/n.user

danielricciardo: first date, kinda nervous. do you guys think she likes me? 🙁

view comments…

y/n.user: i do i do i do🫠🫶

|> danielricciardo: i like you too🤭🫶

dallascc.updates: pls pls this is way too cute but i’m shook

|> f1updatepage: aren’t we all?

georgerussell63: theres no way you’re dating a dcc-

|> carmenmmundt: they’re so cute!!

|> georgerussell63: yeah, but how?

|> danielricciardo: im very charming

yourbsf: actually adorable asf. i’m soso glad you’re both so happy together :’)

|> y/n.user: thank you, babes🙁🫶

maxverstappen1: i hope you guys had a good date!

|> danielricciardo: we did ☺️

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liked by: y/n.user, oscarpiastri, and 1,982,140 others

danielricciardo: another hike, another race sunday

view comments…

y/n.user: you’re gonna do so amazing ☺️

|> danielricciardo: wear my cowboy hat?

|> y/n.user: i’ll be there with the hat and boots on 🤠

|> danielricciardo: 😊

f1.wag: new y/n content? yes plsssss

carlossainz55: i’m still confused on how you got a girlfriend

|> maxverstappen1: we’re all confused

dcc.posts: our favorite hikers 🥾

y/nfanpage: i livveeee for them

_______________________________________________

liked by: landonorris, danielricciardo, and 1,027,174 others

tagged: danielricciardo, landonorris

y/n.user: p2 for daniel = proudest gf today. although i would be proud no matter what. thank you for being such a sweet, funny, supportive, and entertaining bf. i am not thanking you for bringing lando on the same plane, jk

view comments…

landonorris: those tension headache pills didn’t help?

|> y/n.user: nope

|> landonorris: oops 🫣

f1.updates: trio we needed

danielricciardo: my favorite cowgirl❤️

|> y/n.user: my favorite cowboy❤️

|> wagsof.f1: i’m actually so lonely i’m sobbing

formula1.page: you😭 guys😭 are😭 adorable😭

lilymhe: cutestttt

|> y/n.user: you’re too sweet💓

|> lilymhe: 💓💓

y/n.fp: i am never getting over this relationship. f1!driver and southern cheerleader? k. my life is complete

yourbsf: MY PARENTS

|> danielricciardo: oh dearie

|> y/n.user: 😳

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(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[carlsangel]

you owe me (g.i.t.w, ch.7)

carl grimes x fem!reader

tags: normal jazzzzz probably fluff

masterlist here!

read chapters 1-6 here!

(if you want more chapters send a req! well… when they’re open again LMAO)

After everything you chose to move into Alexandria. It was a new adjustment, that’s for sure. With everything that’d just happened, Alexandria’s walls being breached you never really got the opportunity to see it in its true form. The first week you stayed there it was all about cleaning. Getting rid of the bodies and putting them all down. It wasn’t necessarily ideal, but you had shelter.

During that week and extended into another few, the community focused on rebuilding. The wall was put back up soon after it all but things like houses needed to be fixed and refurnished. A lot of houses were covered in things like human blood, walker blood, walker guts, etc. Everything needed a nice scrub. Not to mention the newly infested pond.

Between all of that, you’d actually sort of interacted with the people of Alexandria. Or tried to at least. Everything was always awkward; every conversation you had made you wish you never spoke to Carl. Not because you don’t like Carl, but just because it was so embarrassing. You didn’t realize what it was like to interact with people again. Not everyone was going to be like Carl or your sister, Paige. You learnt that the hard way.

Regardless you met almost everyone. The most intimidating was Carls family. They knew you and appreciated you. They thanked you for saving his life but it was still terribly uncomfortable for you. The thought that you might mess it up terrified you. Your sister did her best to help.

Speaking of Paige, you actually were able to stay in an apartment with her which was something you never imagined possible. You dreamed about living together and what it’d be like when you believed she was dead, but you never thought your dream would come true. You got your own room which, again was unfathomable. You didn’t have much to decorate with but you did have Carl over for some inspiration. After PT of course. He couldn’t get up for a while after losing his eye.

“I think it’s nice.” He tells you, looking around the room and swiping the dresser of its dust. You’re sat at the edge of the bed. “I dunno…is yours decorated?” You question. He lingers by your bag in the corner, sort of just staring at it. “Not really. It had some posters before we moved in. Ron gifted me some vinyl…you know before everything.” He explains. You’re not sure how to respond, so you just nod. “Some of the records have posters in them. If you want them.” He looks down at you and smiles a little. “No it’s alright you should have them.”

You’re so comfortable with him but also so awkward. You couldn’t explain it. “I think…I’ll give them to you. You can get them tonight. At dinner.” The way he says things makes them sound so set in stone. Like he’d planned this and it was a sure and definite plan. “Dinner?” You repeat. He sits beside you and nods, still taking in the empty space of your room. “My dad invited you and Paige for dinner. Since everything is settled down, he thinks it’d be nice to get to know you. Since you saved my life and all.” That’s true. You did save his life but regardless you didn’t think you were ready.

You shake your head. “N-No I don’t think I’m ready, I mean-” You put your hands out almost defensively which he sees as a good opportunity to comfort you. He takes your hands in his and closes them together, squeezing them together. “It’ll be okay. I’ll monitor my dad almost to know what and what not to ask. Besides he always liked your sister. You’ve started on the right foot.” You process what he says but also at the same time you’re equally focused on how warm his hands are.

You trust him, however.

─── ⋆⋅ ꒰ა 𐚁 ໒꒱ ⋅⋆ ───

That night you got ready in the nicest clothes Alexandria had to offer. Paige had left a couple minutes before you since you had some extra tasks to do before you left, but you were incredibly tempted to just ghost them. No pun intended. (get it? cause she’s the ghost in the woods—yeah ok.) You took one step off the stairs of your apartment and you turn to walk left to go to Carl’s house.

The walk there was almost hell. You overthought every scenario, every sentence you planned on saying, etc. It really was dreadful, you almost didn’t go. Until someone stopped you. Aaron. “Hey.” He stopped you from the porch of his house, you didn’t notice he’d been sitting there watching you contemplate going or not. Aaron knew you, he knew some of your interests and would bring you supplies when you lived in the woods.

“Oh.” You pause in your steps and let your hands fall away from each other, you hadn’t realized you’d been picking at your skin. “Hi.” You say shortly, not mentally prepared for the conversation. “I heard you’re scheduled for a dinner.” He tells you, almost smiling. Although he’s trying to contain it. “I just…I want you to know how often I looked for you. It seemed I was always looking in the wrong places. But I’m glad you came out of hiding.” You tilt your head a little at his explanation, something you sort of got from Carl. Although you watch him for a moment and realize how nervous he seems.

“I care about you. I understand that may be weird since you don’t even really know me…but I do.” You try to process his words, you didn’t quite realize what that felt like in the moment. All you can do in that moment is nod. “Thank you, Aaron.” You obviously have manners though. He gives a content smile and pats your shoulder. “Well don’t be so nervous. The Grimes family, well they’ve been through it all as you can tell. Michonne, well she’s a civil woman. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Except maybe Rick. He’s a bit aggressive. He punched me the first day we met.” He says in an amused tone, although that kind of makes your nerves spike.

You sort of give him a strange look. “Oh..he’s not gonna punch you or anything—you’ll be fine.” He smiles. Right, you’ll be fine. Plus Carl will be there.

Although when you got there and it came to knocking on the door you were frozen. Carl saw you approaching before you’d even got there so he opened the door regardless of whether you were ready or not. “Hey.” He seems so excited, he practically drags you inside. You hear a bit of commotion from the kitchen but Carl makes sure you’re okay first. He faces you directly and takes your hands in his. “It’s gonna be okay. They’re glad you’re here.” He explains, soon dragging you over to the kitchen. You see Michonne with Judith, just keeping her busy while your sister and Rick grab plates.

“Oh there you are. Thought you got lost.” Paige teases, drawing the attention of both Rick and Michonne. You sort of just stare, unsure of what to do. You’ve sort of met them before, when helping around you took instructions from them, but you’ve never spent real time with them. “We’re glad to have you.” Rick smiles and nods, something you’ve learnt is a Grimes thing. You remain silent. “Jesus say thank you or something. Did the apocalypse make you forget your manners?” Paige remarks.

“Right. Thank you. For inviting me.” Rick smiles a bit at your response, glancing back to Michonne who had the identical smirk on her face. It was so obvious how nervous you were. But that didn’t matter. It was dinner time now, you helped set the table with Paige and be for you knew it, you were sat down in awkward silence with the Grimes family.

You poked around your food and took bites, completely unaware of the fact that everyone was glancing your way every so often to see if you’d actually make eye contact with any of them. Which you didn’t. So, Michonne took initiative.

“Rick actually has something he wants to say to you.” She forces a smile and looks over to Rick who finds it amusing. You look up at him and he waits before explaining. “I know we didn’t really get off on the right foot.” He starts, Carl and Paige already know where this is going so they look at each other and smile. “I sorta…you know—”

“Threw her to the ground?” Michonne interrupts. He chuckles. “Yeah, I did. I guess I should apologize, but I need you to know where I was comin’ from.” He explains. But you already knew, therefore he didn’t need to say anything else. “That’s fine. I get it. A strange girl who lingered in the trees is a bit alarming. I don’t blame you. But you owe me.” You smile. You can hear the others giggle at your claim and Rick raises his eyebrows. “I owe you?” He says unserious. “You know what, you’re right. How can I pay you back?” He sets his fork down and rests his arms on the table to take you seriously.

“Well, when yanking me to the floor I fell back on a lot of my belongings. My walkman being one of them. It basically shattered and I’d like a new one.” You propose. Rick looks to Michonne who nods. “Sounds like a good deal. Her forgiveness for a walkman?” She says. Everything about this conversation seemed so playful to you. You knew they were being serious, but they were acting so official and it was funny. You were comfortable.

“Well I guess I should since you helped us. Not to mention you’re of great importance to my son over there.” He smiles. You look over to Carl who was already looking at you. Your sister would tell you later when you got home that he’d been staring at you this entire time. But anyway, back to your deal. You both shook on it and the dinner went on.

Real soon, you’d have your walkman back. With it, you’d get a mixtape from Carl.

Since he’d be the one you’d be using the walkman with.

a/n: yall gotta forgive me for being absent for so long IM SORRY MANNNN I AM I PROMISE look i just simply have been incredibly busy with school, being a senior is not for the weak trust <//3 also writers block has me in a chokehold BUT IM ON IT I PROMISE

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