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elliewrites77 · 2 months ago

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Uncle!Sukuna Part 7

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6.5, 7

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Uncle!Sukuna who stood in front of Yuji, who was standing with his small hand on his chin like he was analyzing an important sample. Sukuna rolled his eyes at the sight, a small smirk on his lips.

Yuji hummed, looking at Sukuna's chosen outfit closely. Sukuna already knew he looked good, his suit crisp and perfect. He hadn't even asked for his nephews' opinion, but as the boy stood there looking, he couldn't deny he was waiting to hear Yujis thoughts.

"What is it, brat?" He grumbled, fidgeting because of how long the kid stayed silent.

"Is this the best you can do? Choso says miss y/n is going to dress up real nice." Yuji replied, looking up at his tall uncle.

Sukuna huffs, fixing his sleeves as he looks away from Yuji and back to the mirror. His brow furrowed as he looked at himself again, wondering if he did look as good as he knew you would. He had told you it was a fancy place and to dress up to fit it. But now that Yuji had said something, he could feel himself start to doubt if "his best" was really enough.

"Oh! I know what you need!" Yuji suddenly said, quickly rushing past Sukuna and out of the bedroom. Sukuna watched the doorway as he waited for him to return, brow raised in curiosity when he heard rushed movement from Yuji's room. He quickly came running back, a small white flower in his hand. Sukuna is confused, wondering how he planned to use that as well as where he even got it. It was slightly squished, but still whole and pretty.

Yuji pulls Sukunas arm, indicating that he wanted him to bend down. Sukuna does so, silently crouching till he was more even to Yujis height. The boy grins as he tucks the stem of the flower into the chest pocket of Sukunas fitted blood-red suit jacket. He pulls back once the flower is in place, his grin growing as he looks at his work. Yuji was clearly pleased with the result. Sukuna simply looks down at the flower which contrasted completely with his dark clothing. It stood out, but wasn't bad looking per say. When he glanced up to Yuji again, the proud grin on the brats face was enough of a reason to keep it there.

Sukuna sighs, feigning annoyance as he stands. He straightens out his clothes again before looking down at Yuji.

"Better?"

"The best!"

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You stood in front of your bedroom mirror, once again analyzing your makeup. You were nervous, Sukuna had said it was a fancier place, and you had chosen your best dress, and spent almost two hours perfecting your makeup. But still, you were worried that something wasn't perfect. You tried telling yourself it was just 2nd date nerves, but that didn't help much to actually help you feel better.

With 30 minutes left before Sukuna was going to come to your door to collect you, you were starting to panic just a little. You even contemplated redoing your makeup but knew you would have no time. So instead, you paced your living room, silently telling yourself positive things to help. It wasn't until you saw a small gift box on your kitchen island, just out of the corner of your eye, that your attention actually moved to something other than your worries.

You moved to it, confused because it hadn't been there before Choso left, the last time you were in the kitchen. You opened it, brows raising when you see a beautiful necklace with a pendant that looked to be a red rose. There was a small paper folded underneath it that you opened first.

For your date. Mr. Sukuna is cool. Love Cho.

You smiled at the words, loving how thoughtful your son was. You knew there's no way he could've gotten a piece of jewelry like this without help, but you figured you could ask him later about that, when he was home. For now, you took the necklace out and put it around your neck, moving your hair out of the way to latch it. Once it was on, you moved to look at yourself in a hallway mirror, your heart warming when you see how good it looks in contrast to your white dress. It was beautiful.

It was also exactly what you needed in order to ease your nerves. No longer feeling like something was missing or imperfect, you spent the last bit of time making sure you had everything you'd need and that the house was locked up.

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Sukuna was already crossing the street to your house before Toji could fully drive away with his nephew. He gave himself a moment to take a breath, calming his nerves before knocking on your door. He hears the sound of your heels on your floor, feeling his heart pick up as he hears you get closer to the door. He unknowingly holds his breath when you open the door, feeling speechless (again) as he takes in your appearance. You look radiant, even more so than usual. Sukuna released a breath, giving you a smirk that you returned with a smile.

"Hello, beautiful." He spoke, his gruff voice giving you butterflies. He grabs your hand as you greet him and step out, shutting your front door behind you. Giving your hand a kiss, he waits for you to lock up before leading you to his car, opening your door for you.

Once the two of you are on the way to your destination, which is still unknown to you, the ride is pretty quiet. The silence between you is peaceful, nice. It feels natural and easy, which is a relief to both of you.

Sukuna is silently going over his plans for the evening, wanting to make sure everything went smoothly. He didn't want to rush things, knowing you hadn't been in a relationship since Choso's father, and he himself hadn't felt this way about someone before in his life, so he wanted to take things slow. He wanted this to work out, whatever this was.

You were thinking about how the evening would go as well. Last time, it ended with a kiss - one you still thought about - and you couldn't help but wonder if tonight would be the same. Not that you would be against something...more...happening, but the idea still made you nervous. You knew there was something between the two of you, knew that whatever it was had developed faster than any other relationship you've been in, but you had reservations about moving too quickly. It had been so long since you even considered being in a relationship, and the last one you were in had been a horrible one. And being a mother, you knew you couldn't rush into things no matter how strongly you felt about Sukuna. You felt like he had been in your life for much longer than he has, but you had to remind yourself that it had only been a few months. So while you liked him, a lot, and you wanted to let whatever was between you two grow, you knew slow and steady would be the best route to take with the pink-haired man.

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"Please tell me you kicked them out? That's just ridiculous." You said, covering your mouth as you laughed. Sukuna took a sip of his drink across from you, smirking.

"Nah, I just let them fight. Got the crowd pretty excited, and it was free entertainment. Plus I wasn't gonna be the one to clean up the blood." He said with a chuckle. Despite the mention of blood and his comfortability with violence, you weren't perturbed. You simply chuckled with him, shaking your head in amusement.

You both had been at the fancy restaurant for hours already. After you ate dinner, neither of you wanted to leave, so you ordered a dessert to share and continued to talk. Despite seeing each other pretty much every day, and spending most of your time together, conversation came easy, and neither of you ran out of stuff to talk about. He had plenty of stories being the owner and bartender of a bar, though he tried to avoid mentioning the more gruesome ones. You had stories too, of parents you've had to deal with during your time as a vice principal, memorable students, and of amusing memories with Choso. Time slipped away from you both as you swapped stories, laughing so hard at times that you got looks from other customers. Sukunas booming (and rare) laugh gave you goosebumps every time it filled the room.

As the dessert slowly disappeared from the plate, so did the customers from the restaurant. More and more tables emptied out, and you noticed the looks from the employees as they passed by to clean them. It made you glance at the time, your eyes widening when you see how late it was. Sukuna noticed, glancing at the time as well. You two then agreed that it was time to leave. The check was quickly delivered, as if the staff were on stand-by waiting for Sukuna to request it. He wouldn't even let you see the total, narrowing his eyes at you when you even suggested paying for your part.

His hand landed on your back as you walked out of the restaurant, the valet already waiting with his car at the front. In the car, his hand took place in yours. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, seeing the slightest tint of pink on his ears. You smiled, looking to your side window to hide it.

As you looked out of the window, you started to see raindrops slowly appear. A little confused, since the weather hadn't predicted rain, you looked forward. It started to rain harder, quickly going from a trickle to a steady stream of rain. Sukuna had to turn his wipers on, grumbling in annoyance at the unexpected storm. He was glad you weren't too far from home, since it was difficult to see in the dark through the rain.

As soon as he pulled into your driveway, he grabs the blanket he keeps in his car for you, before getting out and running over to your side, holding the blanket over his head. He opens the door, using the makeshift 'umbrella' to keep you from getting wet as you quickly get out. You both run up to your door, quickly unlocking it and rushing inside. You shiver at the temperature difference, happy to be in the warm house. Thanks to Sukuna, most of you was still dry, but all of you was cold.

You turn on your hallway light, rubbing your arms. Sukuna takes off his suit jacket, the back of it having gotten soaked.

"I can put that in the dryer, give you some clothes to wear too." You offer, feeling bad that he took on most of the rain just to keep you dry. He just nodded at you, taking off his shoes. You walk away, going to your room. Rummaging through your drawers, you manage to find an old, large pair of sweats and a button up. You change your own clothes before going back out, putting on warmer, more comfortable clothes.

Sukuna doesn't say much when you hand him the clothes, mumbling a thanks before going in to your guest bathroom and changing. When he's done, he goes back to the living room to find you, now barefaced and hair down, on a phone call. He doesn't interrupt, simply sitting next to you and leaning his head back.

"Okay baby, I'll see you tomorrow. Be good for your aunt. I love you, Cho." You speak softly into the phone, a smile on your lips that Sukuna has quickly become addicted to seeing.

You hang up, putting your phone away as you turn to look at him.

"That the brat?" He askes, his voice low and tired. You nod with a small chuckle. "Thought you were an only child?"

At his words, you look away, smile fading slightly. You look a bit embarrassed and uncomfortable, which makes Sukuna open his mouth to reassure you that you don't have to say anything if you don't want to. You speak before he can.

"I am...he's with his paternal aunt." You mumble, picking at a loose thread on your pants.

Sukuna raises a brow, surprised to learn that any of Choso's paternal family is still in his life. You notice his curiosity.

"She's nothing like his father. Or the rest of his family, really. She loves Choso, and she's been there for me through so much." You explain. Sukuna listens, nodding slightly to show you he was. "After I had Choso, I cut his father's family off completely, but I couldn't do that to her. Not that I could get rid of her anyway, she's a stubborn one." You joked lightly, making Sukuna smirk a bit.

He can see you're uncomfortable, not used to talking about Choso's father or related people very often. Sukuna knew little about the man, not that you owed him (or anyone) any information. He couldn't deny that he was curious, but he wouldn't push. Instead, his hand moves to grab yours, connecting them and resting them in your lap.

"M'glad you have her then." He says, making you smile softly. You squeeze his hand.

"So am I." You look down at his painted nails, playing with his large fingers a bit. "She travels a lot, so when she comes around, she tries to take time to spend with Choso. He loves it, ends up talking about everything they got up to for a week." You say. You feel awkward, not sure what to say so you just allow your mouth to move, feeling that's better than silence.

Sukuna hums in acknowledgement, smirking because he can tell you're about to start rambling because you feel awkward. He's amused by it, your yapping being one of his favorite things, but he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable. So he simply tugs your hand, pulling you into him and using his other to cup your jaw. Your eyes widen slightly, and you can feel your breathing get a little shallow at the proximity. His thumb rubs against your cheek as he takes a second to just admire you, his eyes running across your face.

"Beautiful." He practically whispers, talking to himself more than you. His words, as well as the look in his eyes make you feel giddy and shy at the same time. You can't think of a thing to say, too flustered by how soft he was being. He doesn't let the silence linger though, pulling you closer to kip your lips gently.

Instantly, you melt into him, eyes fluttering closed as your heart beat raises (to an unhealthy level, you're sure). You hand moves to his chest, for stability or just to touch him you aren't sure, but neither of you care. The kiss is long and soft, but when he pulls away so that you can both breath, you see the look in his eyes that tells you one isn't enough. You can barely react before he pulls you back, his hand releasing yours to move to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. This one is far more passionate, more desperate as if he had been waiting forever to feel you like this. To him, it felt like he had been waiting forever.

Sukuna adjusted your position, not breaking the kiss as he moved to lie down on your couch, pulling you to lay on top of him. His hands hold you gently, tongues moving against one another's in a passionate dance. Your hands grip his shoulders, holding on as if you'd wake up from this fantastic dream if you were to let go. Because surely something as simple as a kiss could only feel so good in a dream.

Eventually, due to the unfortunate human need for air, you both pull away, panting. His eyes open, staring at your flushed appearance and the way your lips are parted. He feels your heart beat against his chest, beating at a speed that he's sure matches his own. It's silent for a moment, only the sounds of you both panting filling the living room. But then you smile, bright and bashful, dropping your head to rest against his chest. He smiles too, the type of smile that's unfamiliar on his face, uncomfortable for his bones to adjust to at first. He kisses your hair, arms wrapping around you to hold you better, closer. Neither of you speak, content with holding each other for a little longer. You listen to the sound of his heart, while he listens to the sound of your breathing.

If this was a dream, neither of you ever wanted to wake up.

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You wake up to the smell of bacon, the sound of pans and things being moved around coming from your kitchen a few feet away. It takes a moment for your mind to catch up, slowly remembering the events from the night before.

You had fallen asleep in Sukuna, which explains why you were on the couch still. It seems he had woken up first, somehow getting out from underneath you to sneak away.

After stretching a bit and rubbing your eyes, you slowly stand. Glancing out the front window, you can see that it's still early, likely around 7. You don't bother looking for your phone, just making your way towards the noise and surprisingly delicious smell.

You pause though, when you see the bare back of the tattooed, pink hair man that already occupies your mind. You are hypnotized by that way his muscles move as he cooks, his tan skin somehow looking rough and smooth at the same time. You could watch him for hours you're sure, but unfortunately your show is interrupted when he turns around to grab something, noticing you.

Sukuna smirks when he sees you, watching you blink as if to wake yourself from a trance. He puts down the container he was holding, moving towards you smoothly. Grabbing your waist, he kisses you sweetly.

"'Morning baby." He says, his gruff voice and the pet name making you shiver.

Sukuna pulls away, going back towards the stove. You can see now that he was making eggs and bacon, probably one of the few things he knew how to make.

"Morning. You didn't have to make breakfast." You say, moving to stand by the counter next to him.

"Yeah well it looked like you might be asleep for a while, and I wasn't exactly willing to starve myself just so you could keep drooling on me." He smirks at you as he teases, making you scoff and narrow your eyes at him.

"I was not drooling." You insist. Sukuna chuckles, shaking his head.

"Sure you weren't."

You smack his arm gently, making his smirk grow. Rolling your eyes playfully, you don't bother giving another reply. You grab a strip of bacon that's done, taking a bite. You hadn't realized how hungry you were until you took a bite, your stomach rumbling as a sign for more. Sukuna chuckles again.

"It's almost done, if you wanna go ahead and grab some plates." He says. You do so, grabbing two plates and some utensils for you both. "And the brat called, well his aunt. Said an emergency came up with work so she has to bring Choso home a few hours early. They should be here by noon." He informed.

"Oh, thank you. I didn't even hear my phone ring." You say, looking around for the device. It was either in here or the living room.

Sukuna sees you searching, nodding to the counter behind you. Your phone is on the charger, making you smile at how thoughtful he was. He didn't have to do that, didn't have to answer the phone call either, and he didn't have to make breakfast. But he did, and even something so small made you giddy.

You check your phone, responding to some messages and checking your email while Sukuna finishes up, making your plate before his own. Then as you sit side-by-side at your kitchen table, talking about the day's plans and such, you can't help but realize how badly you want everyday to be like this. Of course the inclusion of Choso and Yuji would make it a hundred times better, but still. The idea of spending every morning with Sukuna like this, sharing kisses and flirty remarks, especially if the two boys were running around your house like usual, it made your chest feel lighter, happier.

You could only hope every day would be like that eventually (soon), and unknown to you, Sukuna hoped the same.

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am i happy with this? not entirely. do i have the energy/time to rewrite it more than i have already? not at all.

i'm not sure if it's just my lack of motivation recently, or how busy i am with life stuff, or what. But i've been working on this part for a while, and idk why but no matter how much i rewrite it, i'm just not entirely satisfied with it. i can't explain why, but I do hope it's not actually complete shit.

so please tell me what you think! despite my feelings on it, i do hope you guys like it, and if you don't please lmk. I want to improve and feedback/constructive criticism always helps :) if there's something wrong with the pacing, the dialogue, wording, literally anything, pls feel free to let me know your thoughts.

thank you to everyone who's read this story, and any of my other works. i appreciate each and every person who's taken the time to comment, like, reblog. I hope you all know how much your support means to me <3

barely proofread

i hope everyone has a wonderful day! ✨

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nanivinsmoke · 8 months ago

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✩ Take Care .

✩ logan ‘wolverine’ howlett x mutant!femreader

hate is a strong word, but not stronger than the feelings you have for him.

✩ tags: sexual tension, enemies to lovers (?), mentions of blood, you and Logan both get hurt, passionate sex, creampies, logan has nightmares, rough sex, etc…

note: nightmare scene heavily inspired by the first x-men movie with rogue and logan. cr: plutism for divider <3!

“Did you hear? Ms. Y/N slapped Mr. Logan in front of her whole class!”

“I heard that he called her a bitch. I don’t know, that seems deserved.”

“Those two are definitely in love with each other. I don’t even have to use my powers to know.” Professor Xavier shook his head as he wheeled by a group of students, talking about his two hard headed staff members; who can’t seem to get along. At least that’s what they’ve been trying to claim.

Being a telepath has its perks, but it also has its disadvantages, and right now the professor wished he couldn’t read people’s minds. As he rolled into the science class, he wasn’t surprise3: to see the two of you there—keeping distance from one another.

“I’ve been hearing a lot about you two.” Charles announced, causing the two of you to look at each other, an eye roll from you while Logan groaned. Using his telepathy, the professor closed the classroom door; rolling closer to you both.

“Why are we here, Charles.” Logan spoke, getting ready to light his cigar—however you swiped it out of his mouth, using your powers. He shot you and look and the two of you began to bicker, but that immediately ended as the Professor got into your heads; silencing you both.

“Sorry professor..” You mumbled and the old man nodded his head.

“This is the third time the two of you had got into a fight, not counting the ones off school grounds. You two are teachers, adults better yet, and you two are setting a bad example for the kids.” Even though he didn’t look angry as he spoke, it was evident that the Professor was. It was hard for you both to look him in the eyes, he was disappointed with you two.

“If the two of you don’t clean up your acts and realize the truth behind your feelings for each other, then I’m going to put you both on leave; until I deem fit.” The Professor turned and wheeled himself out, not bothering to hear an explanation from either of you—since he made himself clear.

You turned to look at Logan, his hazel eyes on yours before he turned away—following after the professor’s steps, leaving you alone. You sighed and began to clean up your classroom, Xavier’s words replaying in your head; especially what he meant about your feelings. ‘Did you actually hate Logan?’

That question played in your mind for the next couple of weeks, wondering what were your true feelings for him. The two of you stayed out of each other’s way, taking the Professor’s words seriously; you two couldn’t afford to get into another fight.

The only time you two saw each other is during x-men meetings or as you passed each other in the hall way. It was for the best and everyone could see the change, especially Charles.

However, things took a turn during one night in the mansion…

It was real late in the night, almost everyone was asleep; except for you. You had just got out of the shower, a silver colored towel wrapped around your nude body—excess water dripping off of you as you rummaged through your closet for something to sleep in. Settling for an oversized t shirt, you slipped it over your head, tossing your towel on your vanity’s chair—before climbing into your bed, getting comfortable.

And as you reached over to turn off your lamp, your ears perked up to this low groaning, followed by some yelling. You rose an eyebrow and climbed out of bed, slipping on your slippers before coming out of your room, checking to see where that noise was coming from.

And as you followed the sounds, with it becoming louder as you approached, you found yourself outside of Logan’s room. With a soft knock, you entered and tip toed inside—the room covered in darkness, yet you could see the man writhing in his sleep. You frowned at the sight, it wasn’t uncommon for mutants to have nightmares about their pasts. However, seeing him like this hurt you and you walked over to the bed, lightly tapping him to wake him up from this terrible dream.

He continued to shake and mumble, his hands clenching the sheets below him and when you reached over once more—tapping him, he shot up from his bed; yelling—claws unsheathing and piercing your skin. You were stunned, mouth agape like you were going to scream, however nothing came out—you couldn’t.

And as Logan slowly came to, he had realized what he had done, his hazel eyes still wide like saucers—claws retracting back into his knuckles.

“Mr. Logan? Oh my—im going to get Ms. Grey!” A student who happened to hear everything, appeared in the room—shocked by the horrifying sight. You gasped and kept your eyes on Logan, before responding to the student, “No need, just go back to bed. I’m fine.”

Your healing factor had now kicked in and your wounds slowly started to close, the pain fading away as well. You turned your head and gave the student a smile, reassuring them once more. “I’m okay, really! You can go back to bed.” The kid looked over at you once more before nodding, retreating back to their room and leaving you two alone.

Turning back to Logan, his eyes had softened and he had grabbed your waist—staring at you.

“I’m sorry….I didn’t mean—“

“I know. You were just having a nightmare.” You cut him off and gave him a smile small before he pulled away, getting up from his bed and grabbing a t-shirt from his dresser—tossing it over to you. “Since i ruined yours…”

You smiled once more and turned in your heels, headed for the door before you felt his hand on your wrist, pulling you back.

“Stay with me….if that’s alright with you?” His voice was soft, just like his eyes. There was something about this that made your heart swell, so you nodded your head and dipped into his adjoining bathroom—changing out of your bloody t-shirt, into the clean one that he had given you—which smelled like him. Warm and musky, with hints of spice. It was comfortable.

Reappearing from the bathroom, you saw Logan lying on his bed, looking up at the ceiling until his eyes fell onto you. You gave him as soft smile, before climbing into bed with him, creating a distance between you two as you stayed on one side of the bed.

It was quiet as you laid there, trying your hardest to sleep, however it was just too cold. You shivered and tucked yourself further under the blanket, yet it still wasn’t enough. You looked over at Logan, his hazel eyes closed, and scooted over towards him—his body heat radiating off of him and warming you up. He felt you next to him and he didn’t protest or push you off—instead he pulled you closer and wrapped his arm around you, relaxing into his spot.

And after a few minutes, you could hear him snoring, sound asleep once again. You sighed and closed your eyes, drifting off to sleep in the comfort of his arms.

From that day on, everything changed for you.

You had found yourself in his room almost every night, sleeping in the bed with him, arms around each other; having the best sleep of your lives. He didn’t mind it either. You would find him awake every time, almost like he was waiting to fall asleep with you.

And in the afternoon, during your breaks, he would treat you to lunch. Sometimes you guys would eat at the academy, other times he would take you for a ride into the city, buying you something to eat out there.

Almost like your perception of each had changed and you weren’t going to question it. You liked it and deep down you knew he did too. But, there was something about this that had your heart thumping and skipping a beat. Is this what the Professor meant? Was the truth behind the hatred really something else?

Those questions scrambled in your mind and as you entered Logan’s bedroom, your heart caught in your throat. The sight that was plagued upon you was shocking, Logan and another woman in his bed—kissing each other. “Oh.” You let out, startling the two.

The woman parted from him and excused herself out of his room, brushing past you as you stood near his doorway. You kept your eyes on him, a million emotions running through your body as his demeanor changed, standing up and coming close to you.

“Look, I don’t need a fucking babysitter and im damn sure not your boyfriend. You’re fucking suffocating me!” His words were harsh and eat one felt like a personal slap to the face. You could feel your eyes watering and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop your tears from falling. After all the things the two of you said to one another, this was one of the worst.

“You’re a dick. Go to fucking hell!” You stormed out of his room, tears falling down your face—head tense from thoughts of him; and you soon realized what Charles meant. Without using your powers to connect with the Professor, you knew he was listening to your thoughts anyway—shaking his head as he listened to your heartbroken mind. He was disappointed, especially in Logan.

Days turned into nights and nights turned into days as time went on, the two of you never interacting with each other. You passed by each other like two stranger’s on the street and evens thought the two of you worked together—that didn’t mean you needed to interact with one another.

You did your best to avoid him, during team missions you made sure to be paired with someone else and if you were paired with him; you would handle the mission practically on your own. When it was real late at night and you went into the mansion’s kitchen for a snack, and saw him there, you would quickly grab whatever you were looking for and headed to your room—never acknowledging him.

You even went as far as getting a set of ear plugs so you wouldn’t hear him at night. You were done with him. You focused on yourself, your teaching and trainings—riding him of your mind.

As you sat in your class after the last one, grading papers, Charles entered, catching your attention. You smiled at him, but from the look on his face you knew something was wrong. Using your telepathy powers, you listened to his thoughts, your facial expression changing by the second.

You shook your head and stacked your papers together, “He can go to hell and back, Professor. I don’t wanna hear about him.” The older man wheeled closer to you, and placed his soft hand onto yours, a half smile on his face.

“I’ve read his mind, he thinks about you a lot. He’s been miserable with out you, ever since that night.”

“Yeah? Well that his problem, im not the one pushing people away. Im not the one who’s scared of letting people in! Im not the one who’s not scared to admit how they feel!” You yelled, heart thumping out of your chest; overwhelmed with emotions.

“And how do you feel?” Charles inquired and your eyes widened, but before you were able to respond a cloud of blue smoke appeared in the room; allowing Kurt to pass through—a frantic look on his face.

“Professor! Come quick, Logan’s been hurt! He isn’t regenerating and he’s not waking up!” The sound of his voice along with the news, made your heart drop to your stomach. You quickly grabbed onto Xavier’s chair and teleported with both him and Kurt, appearing in the academy’s infirmary. Your eyes widened once you laid sight on him, his half naked body hooked up to wires and machinery, while Jean and Hank worked on him—trying to find anything to get the male up.

Your eyes were filled with tears as you ran over to the table, looking at every wound he had, heart breaking by the second. You cupped his face and sobbed, at that very moment you weren’t afraid to admit how you felt. You were in love with him. Deeply in love with, Logan.

“Fix him! Please!” You begged Jean and Hank, watching them trying to repair his body; but the wounds were deep and without his regenerative factor—nothing would heal.

“We’re trying, but he doesn’t seem to be there either. Like his mind isn’t conscious—I can’t connect with him telepathically,” Jean spoke, patching his bloody body with gauze, hoping to soak up everything.

By now, tears poured out of your eyes as you looked at his lifeless body, “How did this happen?” You asked, eyes never leaving Logan’s body.

“He was on a mission. His car flipped multiple times—totaling everything, injuring him gravely.” Charles explain and you blinked out tears, cupping his face, before you turned back over to the Professor. “Have you tried to tap into his mind?”

“I have, but it’s like he’s not letting me in…I think you should give it a go.” Charles suggested and you took a look at Logan, leaning down to kiss his temple—taking in his musky scent before placing your hand onto his forehead and closing your eyes.

‘Let me in Logan’ You whispered, before you heard his voice in your mind.

‘Princess, is that you?’ His deep voice asked, the nickname making you melt, before you continued.

‘It’s me. I need you to wake up for me okay?’

‘I fucked up, Y/N. I hurt you….fuck im such a dick’ The hurt in his voice made your heart pang, while more tears left your closed eyes:

‘I know baby, but you have to wake up for me. Okay?’ You didn’t hear a reply back, however you were quickly shot out of mind, hearing him groan out in pain as he finally returned back to his body. His wounds started to close up, stopping his crimson red blood from pouring out. Logan’s hazel eyes connected with yours and he started to pull out the wires in his body.

“Wait Logan! You shouldn’t—“ Hank was cut off when he seen the wolf like male reach over and pull you into a kiss—a deep and passionate one.

“I think we should give these two some privacy.” Charles suggested, with everyone agreeing and following him out of the infirmary. The two of you stayed just like that, kissing each other, lips melting onto one another’s—making your heart swell. And as he pulled away from your addictive, plump lips, a spit trail followed; which you happily slurped up.

Logan pulled you close, ignoring the soreness in his body, arms wrapping around your waist—while his head lied on your shoulder, “I fucked up, I ended up hurting you twice…all because I couldn’t say I Love You.”

You were quick to pull back from him, scanning his face for any misconceptions, however his face remained the same; and you kissed him once more—hand reaching up to tug on his hair, eliciting a growl from him. His huge hand traveled from your hips to your ass, giving the fat a nice squeeze through your skirt, making you whine.

“Could smell you the moment I kissed you. I should’ve known how needy you’d be~” You whimpered as his hand trailed under your skirt, ghosting your soaked panties—eyeing you like you were his prey. “Please…Logan~”

“Please what, princess?” He began to rub you through your panties, your slick seeping through and onto his digits. You moaned softly, looking at him with low lidded eyes, “Please, fuck me.” A smirk etched on his face, pulling you into a kiss before he pulled your panties to the side and started to toy on your clit.

His fingers worked numbers on your swollen bud, pinching it and rubbing it in circular motions, making you whine in the sloppy kiss he was giving you. He pulled away from your lips, thick fingers now inside of your aching hole—pumping in and out of it; stretching your walls.

You were in pure bliss, you had yearned for this for some time and now you were getting your wish fulfilled. “Don’t tease me, Lo’~”

“Gotta prep you. Need you to take all of me, princess.” He pulled his fingers from your pussy, a whimper escaping, before he tore your button’s off your top and pulled your skirt off—eyes glued to your navy blue matching set; his favorite color.

You watched him, hunger in your eyes while he undid your bra; your plump breasts falling—nipples standing at attention just for him. The more you watched him take his time with your body, undressing you, the more needy and impatient you became; causing you to take matters in your own hands.

Using your powers, you pushed his back onto the infirmary’s bed, catching him by surprise; eyes locked on your body as you climbed onto of him; hovering right over his crotch. You moved the white blanket, mouth watering at the sight of his heavy cock—cunt becoming more slick with arousal when you grabbed it at the base and eased it into your entrance.

He was just as big as he looked, fatter too, as he stretched your pussy to fit around him—clinging to him like a glove. “Fuck, would’ve been an idiot to give this up,” Logan cursed, big hands clinging to your hips—pushing you all the way down on his length; filling you to the brim. You didn’t bother to try and get used to his size, instead you began to grind and bounce on his dick—tension building in your core; a whine slipping from your lips.

“Slow down, princess. Don’t want you hurting yourself.” You shook your head and continued your movements, tip rubbing against your sensitive spot.

“Need to cum on your cock right now.~” your lewd words, along with the squelching from your cunt, had Logan bucking his hips up to match your movements—allowing a louder, sexier moan to escape from your mouth. “Right there, bub. Sit there and take it.” He pushed your back down, closing the gap between you two and proceeded to drill your pussy.

You were a moaning mess, face on his hairy chest, drool spilling out the sides of your mouth and the coolness form his dog tags stabilizing your body temperature—while he proceeded to make it rise with each stroke.

You were taking it like a good girl, the bubble im your stomach at its peak, seconds away from bursting—you craved the pending orgasm. “G’na cum! Please please please—I love you!” Lips crashing onto one another, his cock twitching; craving a release as well.

“Cum for me….” His tone had came off like a beg and you couldn’t hold it anymore, your walls clung onto him—spasming like crazy, creaming all over his fat dick. Logan watched as you came undone, the pretty mewls and moans were a perfect melody to his ears, perfect enough to help him cum—buckets—into your womb.

He let out grunts, thick ropes of cum pouring inside of you—filling you up while you rode out your high. Your legs shook while he continued to thrust underneath you, bottoming out into your cunt.

And just like earlier, as Charles sat outside the infirmary’s doors, he shook his head—wondering why out of all the mutant powers in the world, he was stuck with telepathy. He unfortunately heard everything, including the two of you going for round two.

However, he was happy the two of you finally got together—his two favorite mutants.

#wolverine x mutant reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #xmen wolverine #logan howlett x you #logan howlett xmen #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #Logan howlett x mutant reader #wolverine x female reader #xmen logan #xmen

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back2bluesidex · 4 months ago

Text

To Be Popular - JJK [Chapter 1]

Pairing: Social Media Influencer! Jungkook X Marketing Manager! Reader ft. Yoongi

Summary:

You love everything about social media - apart from the ever-growing number of social media influencers. You don't understand how these people gain followers and admirers just by installing a camera and doing very basic things in front of it. And you despise how some of them can do anything to gain fame, to be popular - even if it includes uploading their bedroom scene in pornsites aka people like Jeon Jungkook. But when your company launches a new product and your department head tasks you with signing Jeon Jungkook up as an endorsement partner - you have no choice but to chase him like the corporate slave that you are. However, things turn worse when you embroil in a dating rumor with him and have to keep the game going for the sake of everything. is it really for the worse or things will turn in a way you never expected it to?

Theme: Strangers to lovers au, fake dating au, kind of enemies to lover au, angst, smut, fluff.

Full Series Word Count: 26k

Chapter word count: 5.8k+

Warnings: tiny flirting, argument, that's all.

Masterlist | Patreon (For access to the complete series)

Taglist requests are open.

Minors, I am not responsible for what you consume online. So, act more rationally and stay away.

Chapter index: -

Or read the full series right away on Patreon!!

Thanks to the every possible gods out there, you are capable of keeping your poker face even when your insides are burning with rage.

Like right now.

First of all you landed in a proposition with one of the people you don’t even like, that too, with the most insufferable one in question.

Secondly, your superiors are treating him as if he has won a gold medal or something.

Min Yoongi - the man who is known for his nonchalance and quiet wisdom, can’t seemingly stop giving his gummy smile to this guy, Jeon Jungkook.

Mrs. Lee, who is probably double the age of the guy, is ogling him as if it's a zombie apocalypse and she hasn’t seen another male for thirty years or so.

When they both turn to you, you realize they are probably waiting for you to react the same way as them.

Too bad, you are not even the least bit amused.

After greeting both of the superiors, Jeon Jungkook looks at you - with those big ass googly eyes. A kind smile plays on his lips.

He extends his hand with a soft “nice to meet you.”

Well. definitely not the same. You scream internally but you compose yourself and return his smile, somewhat half-assed, as you wrap your small hand around his big veiny ones (the same hand that does those dirty deeds with others of his stature).

“Nice to meet you too.” you murmur only because Yoongi is giving you those eyes you absolutely love and hate at the same time.

Yoongi gestures to Jungkook to take the seat, “So, Mr. Jeon. I assume you have gone through our proposal already?”

“Umm.. yeah. My manager did go through your proposal and briefed me.” Jeon Jungkook says with a voice that doesn’t match that gruff, breathy one from the video.

Why the fuck do I keep thinking of the video? You inhale a long breath.

“Okay so.. Is there any question in your mind? Or do you want me to go through it all once again?” Yoongi adds good naturedly.

“Umm no actually. I came here to decline your offer.” Jungkook drops the bomb. If you are low-key happy then you don’t let it show on your face.

“W-what? Why? Is there any part of the offer that is not up to your liking? We can revise it anytime you want.” Mrs. Lee butts in.

“Uh. no not that. I personally don’t like to use the devices that your company manufactures. All of your laptops are so bulky, the chassis is always too old-fashioned. It’s not something Jeon Jungkook would use, you know what I mean?” Jungkook reasons smugly, as he leans on the backrest of his chair and crosses his legs.

You hear blood rushing to your brain and before any of your superiors can say anything you start speaking, “oh really? Must be tough to carry our laptops to a pornset or something, huh?”

You see Jungkook’s eyes going comically wide as he tries to register what you have just said.

“What? What are you talking about?” he semi-screams. His attention is now trained only and only on you.

“You know very well what I am talking about, Mr. Jeon.” you lean on the table just as smugly. Under the table Yoongi kicks on your shin but you dodge his attack at the right time.

Jungkook laughs. A big, thunderous laugh, “I don’t see it being any of your business to question what I do in my free time, is it?”

You smirk. If he thought you are going to back off that easily, he was wrong, “it definitely is not. But the fact that we chose to offer you this endorsement deal despite your current public reputation, tells a lot about our dedication towards charity.”

“Oh.. so this is a charity huh?” Jungkook narrows his eyes at you, “sorry to tell you but Jeon Jungkook doesn’t need any charity.”

With that Jungkook stands up and gales at you for one last time before he storms out of the room.

Yoongi slams his head directly on the table making you wince at the loud thud.

“Y/N! What do you think you did?” Mrs. Lee screams in horror.

“What?” you shrug in nonchalance, “he was going to say no anyway.”

“Y/N” Yoongi finally says, probably after struggling not to punch himself in the face for inviting you to the meeting, “we could have negotiated if you chose to stay silent.”

“But I only said what’s true. This collaboration could have saved his face. He was the one who chose to be an ass- I mean, inconsiderate.” you argue.

“Oh really? Then why don’t you show him what’s right?” Yoongi says in a sugary voice, one that’s not really good news.

“What do you mean?” you question, suspicion landing on your brain.

“You need to bring him back if you love the year-end appraisal or you can kiss your promotion goodbye.” he says in a collected voice.

“What? Yoongi! You can’t do this!” you stand from your seat, and Yoongi only smirks at you.

“Oh I definitely can. I can also submit a formal complaint against you calming that you have messed up an important deal. Do you want that?”

You stay silent, questioning your life choices, your career choices. Cursing at the every god above for making you a human when you could have been a worm.

No job, no money issues, no Min Yoongi, no Jeon Jungkook - only soil and dirt.

You sit on the chair again, cover your face with both of your hands and curse “fuck everyone”.

Your eyes zero on your phone this time. The insta handle is burning too bright for the darkness of your room. Honestly, tapping the name is currently hurting your pride.

But what can you even do - you are a corporate slave after all. And the crush you have on your direct superior, prevents you from being rebellious.

But more than just that - you know you were wrong.

Your hate towards the social media influencers clan is pretty much ridiculous and apparently has no reason.

Is it due to your underlying insecurity? Is it because you believe you are inferior to them? While they make hundreds of dollars per hour, you make a dime?

You probably hate Jeon Jungkook because he is the same age of yours and yet has everything you don’t? - like an amazing sex life.

As you tap on the story, it takes you into a video with all colors of gleaming lights. Clearly a club. Loud music blares through your phone speaker, almost paralyzing your ears.

You can’t see Jeon Jungkook on the screen, obviously because he is the one recording the video. But you can hear him whooing in the background. There are some girls around him for obvious reasons.

Suddenly you feel jealous of him again.

He is of your age and he is enjoying a night out at a posh club while you are on your bed, with your ugly pajamas on and you can’t go out because you have work tomorrow.

As soon as the word “work” registers in your mind, you remember you have been tasked with bringing Jungkook back.

You look at the screen again. He has added the location, which means you can find the club, find him and apologize (oh god no!) and beg him for another meeting.

Yes. That's a nice plan. You can then mourn for your dead self-respect with a bucket full of ice-cream.

You have picked the shortest possible dress you own.

It’s a shimmery black bodycon that reaches your mid-thigh. The noodle strap of the bodycon dress gives a tempting view of your collar-bone and cleavage.

You have let your hair lose - you look the best like this. A touch of makeup and you are all ready.

You know you are attractive but will that be enough for the bouncers to let you inside that posh club? You pray it’s enough.

When the taxi drops you in front of the well-known club in Gangnam, you spot the line. And thankfully, the queue is not at all terrible.

Since the clock hasn’t hit 10:00 pm yet, the entry is free.

When you reach in front of the bouncers, they give you a once-over, then look at each other. Your hands feel clammy because they have rejected almost everyone before you. If you are not wrong then only two of the visitors were let in.

But then one of them brought the stamp out and held it in front of your face. You gave him your wrist with a squeal of joy.

You let yourself go blind and deaf with the glaring lights and loud music. Wherever you look, you see people attached to people. Some are dancing, some are drinking, some are making out, some are just standing and talking with drinks in their hands.

You don’t think you have seen this amount of strangers all year.

You will admit - you feel alive.

But no! No Y/N! You are here with a motive, you can’t let yourself be distracted!

In the story, Jungkook seemed to be close to the bar island. Even though that was more than an hour ago, you still start looking for the bar island.

“Why are there so many bars?” you mumble to yourself as you scan the entire floor. There are at least four bars here, there must be more on the upper floor.

You start feeling helpless at once. All these strangers around you, wrapped in wealth, some giving you long looks - trigger your social anxiety.

Bad decision. It’s a bad decision. You should probably just run away.

But when you are about to take an u-turn, you see him.

You see Jeon Jungkook on the dance floor, grinding on a red-headed pretty looking girl.

He looks - like a fucking wet dream.

A black baggy jeans, a black t-shirt, some bulky golden chains, his dark hair gleams under the lights. His lip ring shines directly on your eyes and you snap back.

Great. Now that you have found him.. You can proceed with your plan - which is to beg him.

Without a second thought, you start stepping on the dance floor.

There are not a lot of people, so you easily get past everyone and stand there behind him.

Your eyes drop on his ass, then his hands, his veins and you question your life choices.

Somebody just crashes on you making you lurch forward.

Your body slams against Jungkook’s back. You are about to apologize when he reaches behind with his hand and grabs your side. He grinds his ass on you without even looking at your face.

You feel nauseous. This is the second time you are meeting him and the proximity is very scandalous.

Placing your hand on top of his, you break free from his hold.

“Jeon Jungkook, can I please talk to you for a moment?” you scream in his ears.

He doesn’t stop moving, but you know he has heard you.

Jungkook slowly moves on his feet while vibing and then turns to face you.

His mischievous eyes bore into yours as he takes you in slowly. He shamelessly eyes your cleavage then looks back up your face.

“What?” he screams over the music.

“Not here. Can we go somewhere quiet?”

He smirks at you, “oh? Already? Wait- have I seen you before?”

Your blood turns cold, “no. I mean yeah. Actually-”

“You- that obnoxious employee from Techtonic? Right?” his eyes go wide.

“Obnoxious? I am obnoxious? Then what are y-” you inhale, “Yes. I am Y/N. You are right. I am from Techtonic. Can I please have a word with you?”

“No? Why would I spare my precious time on you? So that you can insult me again?” he frowns at your figure before starting to walk away.

You grab onto his hand, “Please. I am here to apologize. I promise.”

He looks back, takes a look at the place you are touching him and then looks at you, “if I give you a chance… What will you give me in return?” Jungkook challenges.

What in the world did you get yourself into?

You don’t have a single drop of alcohol in your veins.

I repeat - you don’t have a single drop of alcohol in your veins then what is making you feel so lightheaded?

If it’s the spicy citrusy smell that Jeon Jungkook’s emitting then you won’t admit it even if you end up dying.

“Tell me, Y/N. What will I get if I give you another chance?” he challenges again. This time his tongue pokes out of that perfectly small round mouth and plays with the glinting lip ring.

You don’t understand the science of hearing him clearly despite the sound of loud music and the loud beating of your heart.

“I- anything. Anything you ask for.” you choke out, uncertainty lacing your voice.

“Anything I ask for?” Jungkook comes impossibly close to your body.

You can see long fingers with even longer nails circling around his torso. The red-headed girl is clinged around him.

“If- If I can afford that.” you choke out again.

“Oh.. you definitely can.” he smirks like a devil. All the smug pride drains from your body at the thought of what he might be asking from you.

“Come with me.” Jungkook whispers briefly as he takes your hand and guides you through the crowd towards the upper floor.

The piece of skin, where his fingers are holding your wrist - burns.

You are ashamed, nervous, afraid - all in all you want to die.

Just a week ago you were scoffing at your laptop watching this guy make fame out of a porn video and now he is leading you god knows where to do god knows what.

Before you could take in your surroundings, Jungkook slams you on the nearest wall. He wastes no time in locking you between his arms.

“You really came here only to convince me? You had no other intention, huh?” He asks with the lowest possible voice. A shiver runs down through the path of your spine.

“No. What intention would I even have? I fucked things up at the meeting so my superiors are making me clean the mess.” Your voice comes out firmer than what you thought you could manage.

“Oh? Really? But I think there is something else to it.” Jungkook comes closer to your body. His chest touches yours. You take a sharp inhale but keep the eye-contact intact.

Jungkook’s eyes dip down to your chest again as he continues, “you want what you watched in that video, don’t you?” he wets his lips once those vile words come out of his mouth.

Your jaw hits the floor almost, “what the fuck? What makes you think I want you?”

Jungkook invades whatever was left off of your personal space and whispers right into your ear, “If you accept it nicely, tell me the truth whether you got turned on or not, I will give your company a chance.”

You gulp at his offer.

If you say you were completely unaffected after watching him fucking his partner so well, then it will be a lie for sure.

So… if you swallow your pride and tell him that he indeed had some kind of effect on you - he will be up for another meeting?

“And what if I tell you the truth?” you question, looking deep into his chocolate eyes. All you see there is mirth.

“I will schedule another meeting with your company. But I will be declining you all again.” Jungkook adds nonchalantly.

You scoff at that, pushing him away and making some space between your bodies, “so you are just going to use my confession and insult me in my workplace?”

“Oooohhhh… You are not dumb, I see?” he muses, stumbling back from your body.

“Wh-what? Dumb? You thought I am dumb? Mind you, Jeon Jungkook, I get paid for doing actual work and not because I keep hollering at a dumb computer screen in front of camera.” anger flares through every vein in your body.

“And yet you came here to beg me?” he shrugs smugly.

“You know what? Fuck you and your stupid followers who feed your stupid ego!” screaming at his face, you take steps away, stomping on the floor even if your heels are killing you already.

This was a bad idea. Indeed a bad idea.

You don’t get paid for dealing with these scumbags. So it’s not your responsibility. It’s better to have your appraisal compromised than falling in the trap of Jeon Jungkook.

You imagine Jungkook’s face in the place of the ice cream tub as you stab your fork in it with as much fierceness as you could find in yourself.

Yes, you are eating ice-cream with a fork, so that you can imagine Jungkook’s face and stab in it.

“Fucking nutjob! What do you even think of yourself!” stab stab stab “Karma will hit you back very soon! You fucking asshole!” stab stab stab.

As if granting your prayers, the cosmos sends a notification to your device. You take the phone to see Yoongi's instagram handle that has sent you a text.

You start blushing instantly.

“Is this the universe’s way of making up for today’s trashy encounter?” you murmur to yourself as you open his text.

It’s a link so maybe it’s one of those cat videos he sends you the links of.

As you tap on the link, it takes to a post that has been made just an hour ago. The post - a video, containing proofs of Kim Doona (the influencer Jungkook fucked) being a high school bully. The video has texts sent by Doona to the victim, threatening her not to reveal anything.

Looks like Karma mistook the address. It should have been Jeon Jungkook!

You go to the comments.

All of their followers are going crazy, it’s just the same shit in different sentences. So you scroll past it all.

But there are two comments that catch your eye, actually one comment and its reply.

Commenter: Can’t believe Jeon Jungkook chose her out of everyone? A class bully? Really Jeon? You could do better.

Reply 1: What are you even saying? Jungkook probably didn’t even know and mind you, none of them confirmed if they were together or not. Reply 2: but girl, they f*cked on camera! Reply 3: How does that confirm their relationship? Reply 4: Jeon Jungkook has a girlfriend, I caught them at the club just a few hours ago. The proof is in my story.

Eh? Kim Doona isn’t his girlfriend? That was a rumor? He has another girlfriend who was with him at the club?

But you were at the club too, you should have seen them. Is it that red-head girl?

All of these questions swirl inside your head as you tap on the person’s story.

The video is taken amid a mass of bodies, trying to be discreet, but you can recognize Jeon Jungkook, leading a woman through the crowd.

Your heart stops beating for a moment when you realize it’s you. Your face is not visible properly, curtained by your hair, and you are thankful for that.

The video continues as Jungkook takes you towards the quiet corner. The person, who’s recording, moves too for getting a clearer view.

Now he is hiding behind the end of the wall that Jungkook had pressed you on. The video shows how he had towered you in, whispered in your ear and smirked at you. But then it gets cut right before you push him away!

“Fuck! I am not his girlfriend! Are you people blind? How do we look like a couple?!” you scream at your phone.

You decide you have had enough humiliation today. Hence, putting your phone in charge and traveling towards dreamland is a better idea.

This fiasco may die down by the morning. People will definitely defy the girlfriend theory because you two don’t look like a couple. And your face wasn’t even properly visible in the video. So yeah let sleep solve your problems.

Except - nothing solves.

When you wake up and take your phone out of charge, you grasp so hard that your phone slips from your hold and lands on the bed with a thud.

You have a thousand new follow requests on your instagram account. There are a ton of texts from various people in Ktalk and most of them have sent you insta links.

You open your younger sister’s text. She has sent everything in caps:

Y/N!!!!!!!! WHAT IS THIS??? [Link] YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU ARE DATING JEON JUNGKOOK????????

You type your reply:

Calm down. I am not dating that douchebag.

And then you tap on the link.

The post that the link takes you to, can rival your natal chart. It’s a detailed discussion of who you are, what’s your job, how do you look, where you have probably met Jungkook and your insta handel.

They have also attached a photo of Jungkook talking to you standing in the middle of the dance floor.

“Fuck fuck fuck!!!!” you curse and curse and curse.

Why are these people dragging you into this mess now? Why do they have to link you up with him? What the hell is even happening?

How are you even going to get to work today?

You shoot a quick text to Yoongi saying that you need a off-day today for obvious reasons. He sends one of those rofl emojis along with a thumbs up and you try not to feel down.

Yoongi doesn’t really understand what you feel for him? Does he?

You mean you are embroiled in a dating rumor with someone else and he seems to be just fine?

It’s just another confirmation that he doesn’t reciprocate your stupid crush on him.

Just when you are about to keep your phone aside and sleep some more, you get a call from an unknown number.

You don’t think much before receiving it.

“Hello, who’s this?” your voice is still groggy and your stomach rumbles as you speak on the phone.

A sweet cherry voice rings in your ear, “Hello, is this Y/N?”

“Yes. and you?”

“I am Kim Seokjin, Jeon Jungkook’s manager.”

The remnant of sleep flies away from your eyes as the man introduces himself. Why is Jeon Jungkook’s manager calling you this early in the morning!?

“How can I help you?” you voice, not trying to mask your confusion.

“Y/N, I assume you are aware of the situation, right? I mean the rumors?”

“I am aware and currently waiting for Mr. Jeon to decline the speculations.” you state as firmly as possible.

“About that… Why don’t we discuss before revealing anything?”

You frown at that.

“Discuss? What is there to discuss? You know well that I got to know Mr. Jeon via a professional connection, there is nothing else added to it, except for the fact that I visited the club to convince him for another meeting. And all of these things happened.”

“Exactly. I know it all and I also know that it’s not nice to be dragged into this mess but we, me and Jungkook, have a proposition to make. We can use this situation for both of our benefits for strictly business purposes.”

You sigh, “I don’t understand what you are trying to say Mr. Kim.”

“Yes. That is only natural. So, why don’t we meet face to face and get down on the details of the proposition? You can bring a friend or family if you are not comfortable meeting us alone. How does lunch sound?”

You think for a moment. You could probably take Jimin with you? Even though it’s monday, he will squeeze some time out of his schedule if you promise him free lunch.

“Okay. I will send you a confirmation text in this number.” you reply before cutting the call and directing your fingers towards Jimin’s text.

He has sent you a similar array of texts, so hopefully he won’t have too many questions to ask. He will understand once you give him a brief.

“I will tell you everything, can you meet me for lunch? I need to meet Jeon Jungkook and his manager for obvious reasons. Free lunch will be offered.”

His reply comes within a few moments,

“I’m in. I will pick you up just text me the time.”

You now type a text to Kim Seokjin confirming him the meeting as he texts you the time.

Just when you are about to go to Jimin’s inbox again, another unknown number sends you a text.

Annoyance flares through your veins as you open it. It says:

“See you soon, pornaddict.

– Jeon Jungkook.”

You groan at the choice of nick name, “Fuck you, Jeon!”

You don’t understand many things.

But currently, you don’t understand why this fine-as-fuck man is Jeon Jungkook’s manager slash assistant.

He goes by the name Kim Seokjin.

When he smiles at you, you melt. And to compose your flustered state you look at Jeon Jungkook - the (current) bane of your existence.

He gives you a lopsided smile that obviously is fake, leaning down against the sofa seat absorbing as much sunlight as possible.

You don’t give him any reaction.. Beside you, Jimin introduces himself to both of the men.

“Miss Y/N. Thank you so much for coming.” Seokjin says in a pleasant tone. His voice sounds like honey dripping from a silver spoon.

You nod, “Yeah. Alright, Mr. Kim, can I ask about the proposition you were talking about?”

“Call me seokjin. And sure, let’s get into the important details.” he pauses to give you a sweet smile then opens his ipad and scrolls through something. Jungkook, too, scrolls through his phone so unamusedly as if he has been dragged here without his consent.

“So, as you already know, the situation is out of hand now. We tried to take down the initial posts but the photos and videos spread like fire.” he speaks calmly. You nod along with him, Jimin too gives the older man his utmost attention.

“On the other hand, our Jungkookie has been interacting with people, who are currently embroiled in controversy.” noted: Seokjin called Jungkook as Jungkookie and he is talking about Doona.

You see Jungkook rolling his eyes.

“If it wasn’t not for you, then he would be dragged down in the mess too.” Seokjin continues, “I know it’s not nice to be the center of unwanted attention and it is already causing you damage but… we need your help. Jungkook needs your help.”

Jungkook makes a very unapproving sound from his seat.

“What help? How can I even help you guys?” you are now extremely confused. Why would Jeon Jungkook, out of all people, need your help?

“Date him.” Seokjin proposes.

“What?” you and Jimin scream in unison.

“Not for real. Calm down. I meant to say, if you pretend to be his girlfriend before the world, on social media, it will help Jungkookie in defying possible criticism and hatred.” Seokjin explains calmly.

However, you are anything but calm.

Whatever criticism Jeon Jungkook faces, it is simply his own problem. You have nothing to do with it. What is your benefit by being involved with him?

As if reading your mind Seokjin now states, “in return, Jungkookie will sign an exclusive deal with your company for not only one but any kind of future collaboration your company wants with him, that too, at a discounted price.” he winks at you.

Your jaw hits the floor.

“Hyung! What the fuck! Where is this discount coming from?” Jungkook finally opens his mouth for the first time.

“Cool. I’m in.” you reply in a heartbeat. Jimin clutches your wrist under the table.

“Y/N! Aren’t you even going to think?” he whisper-yells in your ear.

“There is nothing to think about. This is a very good deal, Jiminie. I will be hard-pressed to let such an opportunity go.” you whisper back.

“But-”

“I knew you would be an intelligent one” Seokjin cuts off your friend with a cherry tone, “I look forward to working with you” he extends his hand, you take in him with a shake. The shit-eating grin is lighting up your face.

Jungkook sits there throwing daggers at you with his eyes.

“It’s all because of you! You fucked things up!” Jungkook’s loud voice invades the serenity you were enjoying while waiting for Jimin to show up with his car.

You turn your head in astonishment and give him wide eyes, “My ears must have gone cold. You are saying thanks and I am hearing something completely different.”

“No! You are hearing it right, I said you fucked things up. Only if you didn’t show up at the club-”

“Then people would be dragging you down in twitter and instagram for fucking a school bully on camera.” you finish the sentence for him.

Jungkook clicks his tongue and the smirks, “you know what? I can see how bad you are down for me. Is this all a part of your plan?”

You smirk back, folding your hand in front of your chest, “FYI, your manager reached out to me to help you out. I am doing you a favor and you are returning it. Got it?”

“Again.. Again that nasty attitude of yours.” Jungkook steps towards you, “you know what… I kinda like it.”

He breathes directly on your face.

The puff of his breath lands on the apple of your cheeks making a blush creep up without your notice.

“Make sure you save my number, girlfriend. See you tomorrow.” he leans down and whispers the last words in your ears and then disappears inside the parking lot.

You stand there, catching your breath and questioning your decision for the first time since the proposition landed on your lap.

But wait? What does he mean by ‘see you tomorrow’?

Somebody must have pressed a replay button on the cassette of your life.

If not then it’s certainly a deja vu, because the scene that’s unfolding is exactly the same as what happened last week.

You are sitting inside the conference room, with Yoongi and Mrs. Lee and there is Jeon Jungkook sitting right across from you.

The only thing that seems changed today is his attitude - which is a little more tamed.

And oh… your clothes too.

“This is so nice of you to come forward and ask for a meeting after whatever happened last time.” Mrs. Lee speaks in a sickeningly sweet tone. You wanna roll your eyes but decide against it.

“Ah. no no. Miss Y/N is really competent at what she does. The credit goes to her. Even though things went south for the first time, we figured out that we actually are very compatible and working together will be beneficial for both of us. Right?” Jungkook directs his question towards you.

“Uh- yeah. Hahahaha. Yeah.” you honestly don’t know what to reply. He is obviously faking it and you need to fake it too but Yoongi is sitting right beside you and he is staring at you and you are on the verge of losing your sanity.

“I’m sorry if I am overstepping any boundaries but I can’t help being curious if the rumors are true?” Yoongi barges in. He looks at you and then Jungkook, expecting an answer or a reaction.

Before you can say something - something you don’t even know what, Jungkook decides to answer.

“Only time will tell.” he smiles at Yoongi.

The amount of weird glances you are receiving from your colleagues is astronomical.

For most of them it’s just eyeing you up and down and for some of the brave ones, it’s throwing impromptu comments like “oh, Y/N is a celeb now.”

You want to punch them on their faces.

Nevertheless, you don’t want a new trouble right when you manage to fight one crisis in exchange for your name and relationship status.

You scroll through company social media accounts and start planning for all the new content that’s going to drop as soon as Jungkook’s done with the photoshoot.

Your phone chimes with a notification. When take it in your hand to see it’s a text from the devil himself:

“In front of the parking lot. Come in five minutes.”

Your eyes close in frustration. You haven’t even stepped into the deal properly and he has started ordering you already.

But what can you even do, you dug your own grave after all.

It takes you seven minutes to reach the parking lot - obviously because you work on the sixteenth floor and the elevators don’t run on your will.

When you find Jungkook waiting for you at the mentioned location with his bike, you find him kind of intriguing.

It’s been long, embarrassingly long, since you have had a guy waiting for you. Even though you know it’s fake. You can turn blind eye for a moment and let yourself believe otherwise.

“You are late.” he says with a pout.

You lose your sanity only a little.

“Sorry. The elevator didn’t listen to me when I asked it to run fast.” you reply.

“Haha. very funny.” he replies animatedly then reaches for his backpack and plucks out a document folder.

“What is this?” you question naturally.

“The dating contract for our fake relationship.” he shrugs, extending the folder towards you, “Hyung asked you to go through it meticulously. You can add or reduce any term you don’t see fit. We will finalize it and announce our fake relationship officially once you are done. You have time till Friday.” he recites flatly, “also, you can’t tell anyone just yet. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever-”

“Y/N?” someone calls you and it’s not Jungkook.

You whip your head to see Yoongi is standing a few feets away inside the parking space with keys in his hand.

Your stomach feels funny at his unreadable expression.

And then you feel a pair or lips pressing down on your cheeks.

Jungkook kisses you before parting and saying, “Hasta la vista, baby”

You freeze at your stop. You can see Yoongi’s eyes narrowing on you. Jungkook hops on his bike and leaves within a moment.

You stand there, staring apologetically at the man you like and he sports an expression you can’t comprehend.

“So.. the rumors were true, huh?” Yoongi finally voices after what feels like an eternity.

“No- I-” also, you can’t tell anyone just yet. Got it? Jungkook’s words reel inside your head, “yes” you lie, crossing your fingers behind you.

“Congratulations” Yoongi greets before flashing his gummy smile at you and then leaving you there to look for his car.

“You really don’t care, do you?” you ask him. Even though you know he can’t hear you. There is a mixture of different emotions inside your gut and you are way too tired to name any of those.

@phenomenalgirl9 @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89 @ryryvna @purple-realms

read the full series right away on Patreon!! (Start from part 4)

Permanent Taglist:

Requested taglist:

@mageprincess7 @taekrve @ttanniett @elinaki92 @mysteriousgeminizone

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sanaexus · 11 months ago

Text

social's as reo's girlfriend

-liked by nagi.seishiro, kuniisuke and 198.3k others

yourusername: he loves me (trust)

tagged: reo.miikage

isaichii: is he hiding his face bc he's ashamed or bc he's ashamed? ↳yourusername: COME ON I'M NOT THAT BAD 🙁🙁 ↳isaichii: the last time we went out to a fancy place you said deez nuts to the waiter who asked for your order ↳rin.itoshi: she dressed up as cinderella to take out the trash ↳yourusername: THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SECRET?? ↳reo.miikage: i love you but what the fuck? ↳yourusername: you don't get to say that when you threw a hissy fit over nagi choosing isagi ↳reo.miikage: betrayal often comes from the ones you least expect it from

user1: did he pay you to take that picture ↳yourusername: no ↳user1: know your worth girly ↳reo.miikage: you'll never beat the gold digger allegations this way ↳yourusername: what if they aren't allegations and actually true ↳reo.miikage: what ↳reo.miikage: Y/N WDYM ↳reo.miikage: OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR WDYM BY THAT

nagi.seishiro: without me? ↳yourusername: lil man you better stafu bfr i hurt your balls bc he's with you 24/7 ↳user2: lil man ain't he like 6'0 ↳user3: sometimes lil man do be a 6'0 giant oversized mop of white hair ↳yourusername: he legit pats your hair like a cat, carries you around, pays for all your shi, kicks balls w you tf you want let me have him for sometime ↳nagi.seishiro: choki misses him ↳reo.miikage: im omw dw ↳yourusername: step out of that fucking door and i'll make sure both of you end up like kaiser ↳mikka.kaiser: UN FUCKING CALLED FOR THE FUCK DID I DO ↳yourusername: idk im js a girl ↳alexis.ness: don't feel safe no more not until i'm around ↳yourusername: i like being kidnapped /hj ↳reo.miikage: wtf

-liked by isaichii, megubachi and 187.2k others

yourusername: i've only had mr.teigo for a day and a half but if anything happened to him i would kill everyone in this room and then myself

tagged: reo.miikage

chigi.who: who the fuck is mr.teigo ↳yourusername: SHUR UP GIVR HIM RECPEST YOU FOOL ↳yourusername: hes the purple ballon btw ↳sae_itoshi: shut* give* rsepect* ↳shiidoryu: YOU GOT IT WRONG TO LMFAO ↳itoshi_sae: it was fucking autocorrect ↳shiidoryu: you can be "it" i can be "autocorrect" that way you can fuck me 😊😊 ↳itoshi_sae: and they say romance is dead ↳chigi.who: are we gonna ignore the fact Y/N WOULD COMMIT MURDER FOR A FUCKING BALLOON??? ↳reo.miikage: pretty tame if you ask me ↳nagi.seishiro: it's normal ↳rin.itoshi: surprised she hasn't already ↳isaichii: v v normal ↳megubachi: my monster likes him ↳julian.loki: being honest so would i he's so cute 🎀 ↳yourusername: hOW DARE YOU TWO ASSUME IT'S GENDER !!! THEY SHOULD BE ABLE TO DECIDE FOR THEMSELEVES APOLOGIZE TO MR.TEIGO ↳kuniisuke: YOU CALL HIM "MR" INDICATING HE'S A MALE FUCKING DUMBASS ↳yourusuername: my balloon my rules

megubachi: i'd let mr.teigo braid my hair and then we skip to the near by garden where we swing tgt ↳yourusername: YES OMG YES !!!! ↳reo.miikage: no ↳yourusername: go be 👬 w nagi or something

user3: why do you look so 😾😾 in the first picture ↳yourusername: i pointed at a fish and said "aww look it's so cute" and without any hesitation he's like "yeah reminds me of nagi" ↳nagi.seishiro: L ↳yourusername: i'll beat your ass in fnaf come fight me lil boy ↳nagi.seishiro: i'm betting choki on it ↳oliver.aiku: GASP!11!!1!11 HE'S BETTING CHOKI?? Y/N'S GETTING COOKED ↳yourusername: like how isagi absolutely cooks you<3 ↳eita.otoya: foul? yes. do i want you to keep going? yes

-liked by chigi.who, karasu_tabito and 201.3k others

yourusername: it isn't reo without nagi

tagged: reo.miikage, nagi.seishiro

user4: the third picture LMFAO ↳yourusername: when reo realized his soccer (life) partner got stolen by some puzzle solver ↳mikka.kaiser: IT'S FUCKING FOOTBALL WE'VE GONE OVER THIS ↳hiyori: suck my dick ↳yourusername: ask ness to do that he does it to kaiser all the time, his head is prolly better ↳alexis.ness: no what the fucj ↳yourusername: 🎀👬

nikkoki: damn shawty you seem good at biting lips how ab biting mine @/reo.miikage ↳yourusername: take nagi instead pls

reo.miikage: who the fuck and I MEAN WHO THE FUCK EDITED THAT LAST PICTURE ↳yourusername: it suits you ↳reo.miikage: does not ↳chigi.who: you were plucking out the hairy part of your tooth brush to see if nagi would choose you ↳hiyori: HAIRY PART LMFAO WHAT ↳rin.itoshi: you mean bristles? ↳karasu_tabito: there's a name for that shi? ↳kenyu.yukimiya: no shit?? you don't js call it "the hairy shit on your tooth brush" ↳karasu_tabito: ... ↳eita.otoya: ... ↳kenyu.yukimiya: PLEASE DON'T TELL ME YOU THOUGHT THAT'S WHAT IT WAS CALLED

isaichii: wait if you two were kissing and nagi was playing video games then who the fuck took that picture? ↳yourusername: idk someone randomly dms it to me on instagram and i'm like yeah this is useful ↳reo.miikage: WHAT ↳isaichii: someone sent bro a picture of her and her bf kissing and she's like "yeah thanks" ↳yourusername: how else was i supposed to get pictorial evidence of nagi always being there ↳reo.miikage: that's js lies ↳yourusername: LOOK AT THE FUCKING PICTURE MATE

i'm so sorry this took so long and it's so mid?? but i had no motivation and i js had to post something so

divider credits to @/v6que

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spider-ghoul · 9 months ago

Text

Babysitting <3

Percy Jackson X gn!reader (fluff)

In which: a call from Sally Jackson leads you to help with her youngest, and spend the night with her eldest son. Lingering glances and sleepy confessions only to be forgotten by morning.

Warnings: Reader is mentioned to be smaller than Percy once, kissing, none I can think of but as always lmk if there's anything!!

this might be complete shit lmao I finished this at like 3:00 am last night but I wanted to get something out to feed the beasts of this website

~~𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒ 𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧~~

At six o'clock on a Friday, normally I'd be rotting in my bed after the week of school. And that was the plan, until Mrs. Jackson mom called.

"Oh- (y/n) I'm so sorry for asking but do you think you could watch Estelle tonight? Me and Paul had a date but Percy was going to the movies with Grover tonight and we-"

"Mrs. Jackson, yeah, it's fine. When do I need to be over?"

"Six is when we're leaving."

"I'll be there at five fifty."

"You're a savior."

This was perfectly fine. Me and Percy were friends and i was the only half-blood who lived around here. I watched Estelle a few times before too. No biggie. Except for the fact I'd been in love with Percy Jackson for...a while.

I mean, he was kinda my friend. But god, he was Percy Jackson.

At five forty, i headed out. I grabbed my backpack, making sure i had the baby sitting essentials for any four year old: nail polish, beads, and my old rainbow loom (i also spent a extra minute making sure my hair looked okay so that if i saw a certain older brother) I figured that and the t.v. would be more than enough to keep us occupied till her bedtime at eight.

I got there right on time (surprisingly), and Sally greeted me with another thank you. She tried to hand over a few bucks cash, but i pushed her hand away.

She rushed out of the door with Paul after a few more (failed) attempts of paying me, leaving me with an excited two four old. And before too long, she had me watching Bluey (Though i do thoroughly enjoy that show), and making bracelets for us.

She watched as i showed her how to bead the string and make sure the letter beads where on the right way, and then she helped me choose colors.

To start i made one with her name in purple and white. She giggled and slide it on her wrist. I started working on a second one, and she told me to tie hers. It was all blue and had me spell out 'Percy' with beads for her.

"Is this for your brother?" She nodded excitedly, "well, we'll give it to him when he get here, okay?"

I got a solid hour with the beads before she got bored, and by the end both of our wrists had a fair share of bracelets littering them, and a small pile of three bracelets for Percy.

I seriously hope she's awake when he gets here, I can imagine the teasing that would come with handing him bracelets and saying, "oh yeah sorry I'm at your house haha baby sitting- oh me and your sister made you bracelets-". Or i could imagine our hands touching causing me to panic. I could imagine a million things actually.

I think this whole crush is really getting out of hand, especially with me becoming his mom's go to sitter now a days.

Estelle broke me from my thoughts with requests to watch 'Nemo', her favorite. We've watched it every time I've babysat. Part of me wonders if Percy likes it too, I mean with the whole sea god thing.

As for her request, I made a bag of microwave popcorn and set her down in front of the TV.

I vaguely remember the opening, and Estelle fell asleep next to me before i dozed off myself.

I woke up a bit later, maybe half an hour? The movie wasn't finished, but Estelle was already fast asleep. I took the liberty of scooping her up and placing her in her own bed before going to clean up the main room.

It wasn't bad, just putting away my beads, and getting the popcorn bowl out of the way. I was tired enough, school was rough this week. I just planted myself back on the couch, finding Nemo not quite finished as I did.

I'm not quite sure when i feel back asleep, just that i did.

I'm also not quite sure when Percy Jackson sat down next to me, but he did.

I woke up, curled around a throw pillow, the end credits were playing. I rolled onto my back, and that's when I saw him.

Maybe i was too tired, or maybe he was just smiling, but i didn't feel all that anxious. At least not like i normally do around the son of the sea god.

"Do you always fall asleep to Nemo or is this a special occasion?"

"Do you always watch me sleep or is this a special occasion...?"

He laughed and my heart fluttered.

"Uhm, sorry your mom had me come over to babysit, I didn't know you'd be home yet." I say awkwardly smiley as i sit up, yawning.

"It's fine, y/n. She texted me, sorry to have you waste a Friday."

"Oh its fine, better than doing nothing. Your sis was an angel, like always." I say, shifting, my shirt bunched up around my waist while I was sleeping. I was also pretty positive my hair was a mess.

"Oh and speaking of my mom- before i forget." He pulled out a twenty, "now I figure you aren't gonna want to take it, but it's sally's orders."

"I'd feel bad, its just a favor. Your mom is always so nice, she patched me up after a monster attack once, this is just me repaying her."

"She did? When?" His eyebrows furrowed together, his eyes filled with concern.

And i felt my face getting hot again.

"A few weeks ago, your house was closer than mine, it's fine." I mutter, looking down.

He sighed, "what happened?" he said, reaching out to put his hand over mine. I short wire for a moment, looking back up at him.

"Just something on my way home from school, it wasn't bad."

After a brief moment of silence, i wanted to crawl out of my skin.

He sighed, "as long as you're fine." he lifted his hand off of mine, though I could still feel his warmth.

I smiled weakly, "oh uh..what time is it?"

"Uh.. ten-ish?"

"I should be getting home." I say, sighing turning away from him.

"It's pretty late, I wouldn't want you to walk back alone."

"It's not far-"

"I'm sure my mom would say the same thing, you know."

I sighed, knowing he was right, "i don't want to intrude."

"Neither me or Sally would care."

"...."

"...can i bribe you to stay with waffles?"

"...yeah you can." I sigh, any of Sally's food was enough to make me do just about anything.

Percy smiled, making my heart melt.

"Great, it'll be like a sleepover. Do you need to borrow a shirt or something?"

"Yeah, that uhm- that would be great." I mutter, pushing myself up off the couch. My neck was sore, who would have guessed that a throw pillow wasn't great for sleeping? I stretch my arms out over my head, yawning again.

"tired?" He chuckles, raising his eyebrow.

"well you did just wake me up-" I resort, rolling my eyes. I always forget how nice Percy is. I always worry about stupid things, but when I'm with him none of it really matters.

"You woke up on your own- I was simply..." He trails off, and I laugh:

"Watching me sleep?"

"What can I say? You looked so.. pretty." He look down at me, and I could swear my heart stops, but I don't look away.

"...Yeah, whatever." I mummer quietly, staring into his eyes and blinking a few times before finally breaking eye contact.

After a short moment, He mumbles something about getting me to bed. I nod quickly, following him to his room, which is surprisingly clean. He digs though his dresser drawers for a moment, pulling out some old band tee, and blue plaid pants. He hands them to me.

"Is this fine for you? might be a big big, just let me know-"

"it's fine. No worries." I say quickly, taking them, making sure to avoid his hands. "Thanks."

He smiles again, and I leave for the bathroom, my heart pounding in my ears. 'pretty'? it's nothing, Percy is just nice like that.

I change into his clothes, the smell of ocean engulfing me as the soft fabric hangs from my body. I can't help but to push my head into my shoulder. It smells like him.

I ball up my jeans and tee shirt, shoving them into my backpack. I slipped out the bathroom once I calmed myself down enough to talk to him again.

I walk up to Percy's door, "Hey, I'm gonna go lay down do you have a blanket or something I can use..?"

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at me from where he was laying on his bed, "You don't seriously think I'm making you sleep on the couch-?"

"Well I kinda assumed..?"

"Get over here you dork." He said, scooting over on his bed, "Plenty of room- you don't mind, do you?"

Part of me lit on fire, and part of me was desperate to put it out. My ears got hot, but I managed to nod.

"No, I don't mind.."

I place my bag on the floor by the door, walking up and sitting on his bed, sliding my legs under the covers and sliding down to lay next to him. I was stiff, worried to so much as touch him. But eventually, I relaxed, turning to lay on my side, facing him.

I looked at him through half-lidded eyes, my body already starting to sink into his bed, ready to get a proper night's sleep. My eyelids slowly drifted shut.

I was woken when Percy broke the silence.

"Y/N?" Percy whispered, almost silent.

"Mhm..?" I mumbled back, not bothering to open my eyes.

"I really like you, you know that?"

If I wasn't half asleep, maybe I would have said something different. If I had the energy maybe I would have been flustered.

"... I really like you too."

I only heard him chuckle before he placed a hand on my hip.

"Get some sleep, yeah? I'll confess my undying love when you'll properly Remember it."

I must have frowned, because he laughed lightly and pulled me a little closer.

It didn't matter though. I slipped back to sleep, and when I woke up I didn't remember.

I remembered waking up some point in the night, but I didn't know what was said.

And in the morning, I got the promised waffles and left the Jackson's apartment.

The ever chivalrous Percy Jackson (who I woke up cuddling with), offered to walk me home.

We took the long way, and when we reached my door step, he pressed his lips to mine and told me he couldn't wait for me to babysit again, though he wouldn't mind me coming around before then.

He left me breathless and giddy, and so so happy to have accepted Sally's offer.

#pjo x reader #pjo fic #pjo #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader fluff #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fic #percy jackon and the olympians

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iamthatonefangirl · 2 months ago

Text

miss possessive part 2 - congressman bucky barnes

thank you all so much for the love on part 1 of this. i love you all so much you are literally my motivation to keep writing. i hope part 2 does you all justice!

part 1

part 3

~~~

after the crash, Bucky was pissed off, to say the least. entirely at himself.

Bucky should have sat on the passenger side, not you. he would have been completely unharmed. maybe if he’d reacted quicker, used his enhancements to pay more attention to his surroundings, then maybe you wouldn’t be in this position.

he felt his heart drop to his stomach when he saw the blood dripping down your face after the crash. you were right next to him, within his reach all night, but he had to remind himself this wasn’t something he could have protected you from. it almost broke him.

you were in an ambulance pretty soon after. your head hurt like a bitch; you were a little too focused on the searing pain to make out the words Bucky was saying to the first responders, telling them they had to let him ride with you in the ambulance. he was your husband, after all.

wait, what?

did you hear that correctly?

through the burning pain, you tried to keep a level head. it made sense that Bucky lied; it was the only way for him to come with you. but hell if it wasn’t embarrassing riding in this ambulance with him just staring at you the whole time.

the paramedic was asking him a million questions that he didn't know the answers to. of course he didn't, he wasn't actually your husband.

you answer them.

yes, you had alcohol in your system. you’d just come from an event. how much? uncertain.

yes, you were on medications. which ones? great, now Bucky gets to hear.

no, no chance you’re pregnant. you’re sure. yes, you’re sure.

“Bucky…” you mumble.

“yes? what’s wrong?”

“Bucky?” you repeat. okay, wow, suddenly you feel a lot worse.

the world goes dark.

~~~

to put it bluntly, this was insanely embarrassing.

the hospital staff think he's your husband, so he's allowed to stay. when you ask him to leave, he refuses to go anywhere.

hours later, after some stitches and a million scans of your head, you're left alone in the hospital bed. with Bucky still staring at you.

"you can go, you know," you tell him. "it's been a long fucking night. no reason to stay."

he grumbles under his breath, "not goin' anywhere."

you wish he would. watching him, sitting here with you in such a vulnerable state hurts your soul. he's here out of obligation. of course he cares. he would be heartless not to, and Bucky Barnes is anything but heartless.

but he doesn't care in the way you wish he would.

you wish he'd be the guy that looks for you, only you, all night at the gala. you wish he'd refuse to leave your side, never letting you out of his sight. you wish he would look at you all the time, not just when another man is taking you upstairs, not just when you've had your skull cracked.

you wish he'd be the one to whisk you away at the end of the night. you wish he had told you how pretty you looked tonight, because he's the only man you'd gotten all dolled up for.

tears spring to your eyes at the thought, so you turn back to face the ceiling and shut them before they can fall.

but he's still staring at you. he sees the change in your demeanor.

"what is it? what's wrong?" he asks, jumping to his feet to stand next to your bed.

you shake your head and lie through your teeth. "head hurts."

it's not a lie entirely, but. mostly.

you open your eyes to look at him, and he actually looks pained, as though he's the one in the hospital bed, not you. you backtrack, reassuring him that you're completely fine, it's fine, you're used to it. you're used to the pain.

suddenly, he looks confused. fuck, why are you the one complaining about your own issues? don't you remember the shit he's been through?

he's been through worse than you could ever imagine. stop fucking complaining.

"I'm fine, Mr. Barnes. go home."

he shakes his head in exasperation. you're so fucking stubborn, you know that? why won't you just let him do this for you?

he wonders a million different things. you got hurt while working for him, and he knows this isn't your ideal job, that it's only temporary. when he gets elected, he'll get a new assistant, and if he doesn't, then he won't need one anymore. he won’t need you anymore.

of course he’ll always need you.

that was the deal that was agreed upon, but he can't fathom never seeing you again. especially not after he let you get hurt on his watch.

he wonders if you blame him for not doing enough, for not being enough to protect you from what happened.

he knows you don't. doesn't help ease the feeling.

"stop calling me that," he says. he says it with a faint smile on his face, trying to maintain his composure. trying to bring a smile to your face.

he sees you roll your eyes at him, and how the action clearly disturbs the headache you have as you recoil from it.

he has to press. he has to do something, anything–

"I know you know my name. you said it in the ambulance," he begins to tease, smirking.

it doesn't have the intended effect. he wanted to see you smile, see you laugh, but instead? instead, he's made you cry.

you bring your hands to your face as you wipe the tears away. why can't he see how difficult this is for you? he has to know that you're stupidly in love with him, it's not that hard to recognize the longing in your eyes.

so no, you won't call him Bucky, because that makes it too real. it's way too close to home and you have to remind yourself that this is not and never will be anything more than a working relationship.

"please don't cry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," he says, taking your hand in both of his. you look down to where he's touching you.

you're done for. your mind short circuits. you don't know if you should pull your hand away, or if you're going to cry, or what. your mouth speaks before you consciously make a decision.

"can you do me a favor?" you ask him, wiping your face with your free hand. "can you bring me my stuff?" you request, indicating to the large plastic bag in the corner of the room.

he releases your hand and steps away to grab it. you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

you pull your dress out of the bag and begin to inspect it.

a black, velvet, off-the-shoulder dress. sleek and classy for a professional event, but it still made you feel confident and desirable. you bought it specifically for tonight.

you bought it specifically with Bucky in mind.

god, you really are fucking pathetic, aren't you? you just wanted him to look at you and think you looked stunning. but that's stupid, and childish, and impossible.

you inspect the neckline of the dress where your blood spilled onto it. you try to rub out the spots covered in dust from the crash, and almost cry again at seeing all the snags in the fabric.

oh my god. somehow, the thought completely slipped your mind.

you look back up to Bucky and see your blood staining the crisp white fabric of his shirt. you recall now how he pulled you in after the initial crash that caused your injury. you ruined his shirt.

"fuck, your suit, I'm so fucking sorry," you tell him, looking up to meet his gaze.

when you do, you see the same look in his eyes that you had seen before the crash. that look. why can't you place it?

you can't tear your eyes away from him. not now. no car crash can make you. because you feel like he can actually see you, like he doesn't see you as the mess of broken pieces that you are. like he genuinely sees you.

you're shocked when he looks away and sits on the side of the bed, facing you.

you're even more shocked when he reaches for the fabric of your dress and runs his fingers over it. you watch his lips part, as though to speak, before biting his tongue. it confuses you.

he tries again,

"I don't think I told you this, but you looked beautiful tonight."

no.

no, no, no. it's too much. what is he saying? is he trying to make you feel better after everything that's happened? or–

it's the elevator all over again, the limo all over again. is he seriously still on this? you'd completely forgotten about what that dipshit said about you, when suddenly he brings it up again, reigniting the pain and shame that came with Bucky having witnessed it.

"I don't care about what that man said in the elevator, okay? I thought I asked you to drop it," you bite.

at first, he looks confused and almost hurt by your words, but pretty quickly he understands.

"no, that's not– I'm serious."

you shake your head at him, aggravating your headache all the same, but you don't care anymore. you can't deal with this anymore.

"stop-" you begin, but he cuts you off, standing from the bed and raising his voice.

"no! you stop. stop brushing me off. yes, I meant what I said, that you shouldn't listen to that asshole or any other idiot who can't see how perfect you are. but forget about that. right now, I'm trying to tell you something, and you're not listening."

that shuts you up for once.

with a much calmer tone and quieter voice, he continues, "I'm just trying to tell you that you looked beautiful tonight."

"yeah, and it doesn't fucking matter because–"

you pause, remembering you can't say it doesn't matter because he doesn't love you.

"–because I'm sitting in a hospital bed now, and I'm going to have a fucking scar on my forehead for the rest of my life, and no man in their right mind will think I'm beautiful then!"

"then maybe I'm not in my right mind," he says quietly. "because I will still think you're beautiful then."

the impact of his words are worse than the car crash. you're truly at a loss. he can't do this to you, he can't hurt you like this.

is it a game? is he messing with your emotions because he knows you're in love with him?

you want to believe it's not.

"even now, in this hospital bed, you're beautiful."

you can't help but let yourself believe him, because it's all you wanted to hear from him all night. so you do something rash.

you reach for the collar of his shirt, pull him in close, and kiss him.

~~~

he was not expecting that.

he wants to hold onto you with all his might, hold you to his chest for the rest of both of your lives. he wants to kiss you until you both forget where you're at, until you forget anyone else exists.

when he pulls back from you, you're prepared to get reprimanded and fired. you're ready for whatever it is that he's about to tell you. you force yourself to watch the look on his face, expecting the impending horror that's going to appear in his expression.

he looks between your eyes, scanning for any sense of pain or hesitation you may be feeling.

he kisses you again, and you let yourself melt into him. without breaking away, he moves onto the bed, laying next to you.

it's like a fever dream. you feel like you're on cloud nine, the happiest you've ever been in your entire life. this is all you've ever wanted.

you eventually have to pull back. this whole time, you've been letting your emotions run rampant, and you've conveniently forgotten about how shitty you feel, how tired you are.

you run your mouth before he can say anything.

"fuck, Bucky, I don't want to stop, but my head fucking hurts. I'm so tired," you say, shutting your eyes and letting your head relax into the pillow.

he runs his hand through your hair, careful not to disturb the bandaged cut on your hairline.

"want me to go?" he whispers.

you mutter out a 'no' and lean into his arm that wraps around you as your weariness takes over.

~~~

he holds you gently as you sleep. he may not be able to protect you from everything, but right here, right now? he can be here for you as you rest.

a nurse eventually comes in the room, and he begins to remove himself from your bed.

"don't worry about it, sir. just adding notes to her chart."

he sighs in relief.

"you're a good husband. a lot of the husbands I see around here... not so much."

husband. sure, it was a lie he told them so he could stay with you, to make sure he knew what was going on. that you were going to be okay.

after everything, he never thought such a life would be in the cards for him. all those dreams and hopes were left in the century before. could he be a good husband? would you even have him, if he asked?

woah, okay, too early to be proposing, he reminds himself.

~~~

eventually, you come to, and the first thing you sense is the weight in the bed with you.

holy shit, you weren't dreaming? this wasn't just a concussion-induced hallucination?

you blink your eyes open, and there he is, staring at you like always.

"hi," you whisper.

"hi." he whispers back.

and then the searing pain shoots through your head, causing you to cry out in pain, clutching your face in your hands.

he almost freaks. seeing you in this kind of pain? you didn't deserve this. it should've been him, he's experienced it, dealt with it before. why couldn't it be him and not you?

he runs for a nurse.

thirty minutes later, the opioids kick in, and you feel light as a feather.

"Bucky?" you begin. he's seated in a chair immediately next to your bed.

"yes, sweetheart?"

your heart pounds in your chest. you're high on the drugs you've been given, and you can't help it when you smile and giggle at the pet name.

"call me that again," you whine, to which he chuckles.

"sweetheart? you like that?" he asks.

"like anything you do," you whisper. "so perfect."

the drugs put you back to sleep real quick.

~~~

it's been another day, and you're being discharged. Bucky still hasn't left your side once, and yet you haven't talked. you can’t let yourself talk about it, because you know that none of it was real. how could it be real? you were hurt, and he was trying to be there for you.

you crossed the line by kissing him, and it was time for you to let go of your desperation. you had to let it go, and move on. move on from the job and him entirely.

you anticipate his overbearingness in terms of ensuring you get in the door safely when you arrive home. you don't anticipate him telling you that he intends to stay.

"Mr. Barnes, it's okay, I can take care of myself," you assure him.

you see the annoyance on his face.

"aren't we past this by now?" he asks you.

he sits down on the couch next to you, very closely, right up against you. he brings a hand to your face to turn you to look at him.

you lick your lips. "Bucky."

you watch him for a second, and you wish the look in his eyes was real.

“Bucky, I quit,” you whisper. he clearly was not expecting you to say that, because he pulls away from you. you mourn the loss of his touch on your skin, the heat of his body near yours. but you're doing what needs to be done.

“you can’t quit. I’m not– it’s not–”

“I have to quit, Bucky,” you explain to him. “I can’t do this. not anymore, it’s too much.”

he begins to plead with you, “what? what is too much?”

“you,” you admit to him.

he doesn't understand.

"fuck, I just can't do this. because I love you, and I just can't..."

"I love you."

you're stunned into silence. no, of course he doesn’t…

he moves closer to you.

“don’t quit because you think this was a fluke, or because you think I was just trying to make you feel better while you were in the hospital. I meant all of it. you are perfect, and beautiful.”

he puts his hands back on your face, gently, rubbing a thumb over the carefully stitched cut near your hairline.

“please,” he whispers, and you can’t believe that he’s sitting with you, in your apartment, telling you all the words you’ve ever wanted him to say. “I love you. please.”

you nod, and all the pain goes away as he pulls you in close and kisses you.

~~~

“didn’t like seeing that idiot putting his hands on you in the elevator,” he whispers into your ear later that night.

you lean back into his arms wrapped around your waist as you lay in bed.

“oh, please. you had that woman all over you, just begging you to fuck her,” you retort.

“jealous, sweetheart?” he teases.

“oh, please, you started it,” you laugh.

“don’t worry about her. could only ever want my girl.”

~~~

i really want to write smut for them or like another part so lmk if i should

part 1

part 3

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@starfly-nicole @avengersfan25 @thewiselionessss @ijustwantcomfypjs @hextech-bros @a-book-lover-things @ruexj283 @moncherriis @clavedelune

#fem reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #bucky x reader #congressman barnes #congressman bucky #assistant!reader #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes imagine #iamthatonefangirl

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months ago

Text

riddle and how he views his mother

Consider this a part 2 to this analysis! A while ago, I was asked "Why doesn't Riddle resent his mother?", which is the question that the original analysis answers.

Recently, Riddle's Night Sky's Chiffon vignettes were released into the world, and it contains a lot of interesting details that expand on how Riddle views his mother. I wanted to commentate on this new information and how it supports what I said in the original post.

The topic of mothers comes up in these vignettes. Deuce, who was talking about his own mom, quickly realizes that it's awkward to mention parents in front of Riddle, so he apologizes. To his surprise, Riddle is super chill about it and tells Deuce he doesn't really mind, so be at ease. And then Riddle states it outright, clear as day: "I'm grateful to my mother."

Deuce follows up with a comment to the effect of, "It looks like moms are strong in every family", to which Riddle actually agrees.

Riddle credits his mom for his ability to do many things in the present. For example, he took gymnastics classes so he was able to pull off the ballet in this event (one of the Princess in the Tower's required activities). He also learned social dancing, which comes in handy for formal events such as Ghost Marriage and Glorious Masquerade. Most notably, Riddle excels in academics--he is noted as being top of this grade multiple times, has prevented any students in Heartslabyul from dropping out, and is able to memorize 3 magic engineering/coding textbooks in only just a few minutes + helps to keep Malleus at bay in a recent main story update--something which no one else would be able to achieve. He's also able to cast powerful spells in quick succession as the result of his magical training from a young age. It can be argued, then, that despite Mrs. Rosehearts' methods, she did ultimately instill many useful skills in Riddle to set him up for success as a mage. He recognizes the value in that, and acknowledges her for it. There is always a part of Riddle that thinks he is a "better" person today because of his mother's discipline, even if he is just now starting to question her methodology.

He is disciplined and capable because of his upbringing--this cannot be denied. And Riddle can't find it in himself to resent his mother because of that. This woman raised him and taught him all these things because she genuinely believed this was what was "best" for him. How can he hate her for that? For just doing what she thought was her "best"?

I also want to point out how Riddle and his mother are shown to be "one and the same" in these vignettes. Later on, Riddle expresses that he wants to send out a mass email commanding all the Heartslabyul students to prepare at least 10 lanterns each to release in the night, or else there will be punishment awaiting them. He worries that the mobs won't be motivated to help without the threat of a punishment looming over them. Sure enough, when Trey and Cater pass on Riddle's order, the mobs complain and talk about how much nicer it is around Heartslabyul without the dorm leader breathing down their necks. However, the two third years then remind the mobs that while Riddle is strict, he HAS helped them. He provides test notes, edits essays, and hosts study sessions for his dorm members. The mobs eventually realize they need Riddle around, so they end up pitching in and getting those lanterns.

THIS IS PARALLELING MRS. ROSEHEARTS. Like his mother, Riddle is very strict with those under his care--but it comes from a place of his "love", from wanting to see them succeed. And, like Riddle is with his mom, the mobs cannot detach themselves entirely from their dorm leader. I know that book 1 primarily paints Riddle adopting his mother's attitude as a toxic thing (and it is, when it gets out of control)--but with moderation, it also has its useful applications, as we see in these vignettes.

Now let's not get it twisted; none of this erases the absurd restrictions imposed on Riddle, her intense rage, or the child neglect/abuse committed. What I am saying is that she is a person too, not a blob of all things bad in the world. She deserves grace and to have her positives acknowledged too--and this naturally feeds into Riddle's complicated feelings about her, especially now that he sees her bad sides... something he never really faced before.

Riddle's vignettes end on a hopeful note, though I don't know if the characters themselves realize the implications of it. The final scene takes place with the lantern-filled sky, and Deuce wondering why the Princess in the Tower grew her hair out so long to begin with. Was she planning to escape all along? But Jack explains that the witch that kidnapped her wanted the Princess to grow her hair long. The Princess in the Tower obeyed this wish, even though maintaining such long hair is a hassle. To this, Deuce comments that she really must have seen the witch as her mother. Riddle then says that no matter how precious the hair was, it's still cumbersome. "She can't even walk like this." AND THEN RIDDLE JUST CASUALLY SLICES HIS HAIR OFF, NO HESTIATION... ONE CHOP. Deuce panics because the ends look ugly, but Riddle simply replies there's no need to worry, "I do not need long hair anymore."

DO YOU REALIZE WHAT THAT MEANS???????? ? ??? ? ????? Long hair is the symbol of Rapunzel's oppression. It is something she maintains because her oppressor, Gothel, told her to. But long hair is also what ultimately frees her from the tower. The same is true of Riddle. He largely does what he is told to by his mother, believing that she is always correct. Riddle almost doesn't leave the library (despite the long hair being an easy way out) because "I've decided. Never again." He's so close to locking himself up in that metaphorical tower and not allowing himself out for fear of incurring her wrath for disobeying. And in the end, Riddle is still able to leave that tower. He so easily slices his long hair, something which prevents the Princess--HIM--from walking. But in severing that thread, CUTTING THE HAIR, he is freeing himself and finding a way to walk independently.

Maybe Riddle can't do it today (as he so clearly still respects his mother and all that she has done for him)... maybe not tomorrow, either... but someday. Someday...!! Someday, Riddle will be able to "cut his long hair" and walk on his own 😭 and then his life will truly "begin"... Why this nuanced writing get shoved into a vignette and not in the Wish Lantern event story itself, I'LL NEVER UNDERSTAND--

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hidden-poet · 5 months ago

Text

Poison: part 2

Summary: Coriolanus always hated Sejanus Plinth. He had everything that Coriolanus should of had; money, influence, and you.

Warnings: Coryo being de-lu-lu, unrequited love, Reader insert, dark!Coriolanus snow, unedited, dead dove to not eat

Word count: 15,053

Part 1 here

Part 3 coming.

Coriolaus wakes early the next morning and races to the Citadel to drop off Dr Gauls homework.

He carried his anxiety about Dr Gauls potential comments along with him to his session with Lucy-Grey.

He struggled to sit still, twirling his pen around and around in his hand. It was not how he wanted to present himself to Lucy-gray.

What he wanted was her trust, her loyalty, her obedience. Things that would be hard to gain if he gave off a school-boy impression.

Instead he forced his nails into the palm of his hand under the table, and tried to focus on Lucy-Gray as she spoke.

“I am sorry about your friend”, she offered.

“Thank you”, he returned.

“That other girl. Was she okay? The guards whisked you away so fast. I couldn’t see-”.

Something about her asking about you made Coriolanus irritated.

He supposed it was just the image it brought back. The sheer shock upon your face, the fear that he wouldn’t get to you in time.

“She’s fine”, he interrupted. His pen began twirling in his hand again.

He wished he could have seen you this morning to check on you. You most likely woke up in the arms of Sejanus. He wouldn’t check on you like he should. His first words would have been complaints about the games.

He shouldn’t be here really. Who choses mentoring a boy sure to die rather than taking care of you at home. Coriolanus bet he made no protest when you got ready for school.

If it had been Coriolanus, as it should be, he would have ensured you stayed home in bed. He wouldn’t have left your side after yesterday. He wouldn’t have even let you be there yesterday.

First Sejanus causes the wound, and then he isn’t man enough to take care of you properly. How sweet it will be, the day you finally belong to Coriolanus Snow.

“I need you to sing in these interviews. It’s your last chance to win people over. I can’t send you gifts in the area without their money”, he states.

“Maybe a guitar could persuade me. Maybe”, Lucy-gray offers.

“Snow. Dovecote” Dean highbottom calls.

Coriolanus whips around to see Peacekeepers waiting for them by the door.

He could piece the clues together to come to the conclusion that Dr Gaul had called them.

Clemmie on the other hand waited until they were climbing the Citadel steps to ask her obvious question.

“She can’t actually have expected us to write that report. Could she? I was crying for hours last night”.

Corionaus sighs. If Clemmie had kept her mouth shut he would have been next to you. You’d be nervous and in need of comfort, no matter how tough you talked.

“We did write it. I handed it in this morning”, he states.

This time Clemmie sighed, “Great, give me the highlights”.

Coriolanus obliged her if only to keep his mind focused. His bullet points took him up the entry stairs and through the doorway to Dr Gauls lab.

The lab exceeded coriolanus horrific expectations.

It was cold and the large space only housed a long corridor of strange creatures in glass cabinets.

Coriolanus taps the casing of a fish-type creature only to see if it moves.

Its eyes shoot open only for a second before falling back into a drugged sleepy state.

What exactly was Dr Gaul doing? What were these things? For what purpose could they be used for?

“Mr Snow. Ms Dovecote. Come and see my new babies”. Dr Gaul's voice boomed in the empty space.

Coriolaus left the fish, following Clemmie as Dr Gaul led them to a new section and over to a large tank of colorful serpents.

The rainbow moved within the glass in perfect sync. It was hard to tell where one snake started and another ended.

“Is there a point to the color?”Clemmie asked.

Dr Gaul scoffs at her as she ascends the stairs to the top of the glass cage.

“There’s a point to everything, Ms Dovecote, or nothing at all”, Dr Gauls answers.

She spins to face the children, and rests against the side of the enclosure.

“I must say I was expecting Miss y/n, in your place Ms Dovecott”.

“As I said, Dr Gaul, Coriolanus and I do all our assignments together”, Clemmie defended.

“Which is exactly why I was expecting the other one”. Dr Gauls eyes flick to Coriolanus, “exactly, which part did you write Miss Dovecott?”.

Coriolanus tries to pull Clemmie out of the hole she was in but Clemmie talks over top of him.

“There was-”.

“I was inspired by Coriolanus, of course. But the sponsorships, and the gifts in the arena. They were all mine”, she cut him off.

“Clemmie”, he warns. Dr Gaul already knew she played no part. Lying to her would only aggravate her sadistic tenancies.

Dr Gual takes the bait. Crossing her hands in an almost gleeful manner she addresses Clemmie.

“So it’s your sweaty handwriting on that page? Very impressive, Miss Dovecote”, Dr Gauls fawns.

Coriolanus knew it was a tease. He anticipated the come down and the potential consequences of her lie.

“Unfortunately’, Dr Gaul continues, “My assistant mistook it for trash and lined the shelf of this very terrarium with it”.

Dr Gaul slides back the hatch to show the students the paper that was trapped between the snakes.

“Retrieve it for us, won't you? So we might all consider your inspired ideas”, Dr Gaul smiles.

Coriolanus hand twitched. He imagines you in Clemmies place now. How close he would have pulled you. How his own hands would latch themselves over yours and shield them against your chest.

He wondered if he should do the same for Clemmie. She was an old friend, and her grades helped him to the top.

Still he only stood back and watched. Half-Curious as to what would happen.

The snakes couldn't be poisonous. Dr Gaul wouldn’t play with a students life. Especially a student from a high status family like Clemmie’s.

Maybe. Coriolanus thinks back to the weird, mutated animals that lined the hallway. There was really no telling what Dr Gaul was capable of.

“Don’t worry. My little predators are perfectly docile with those they can trust. So if they’re used to your scent, if you’ve handled their food, for example, or if they have inhaled the sweat of your palm on a page..they’ll leave you alone. If not, You’d be on your own, little girl”.

Coriolanus knew from her words that Dr Gaul words were a threat. Those Snakes would harm Clemmie.

Yet she reached her hand into the enclosure.

“Clemmie!” Coriolanus grits.

He is ignored to her own peril.

As soon as her hand brushes against the edge of the page, a Snake lashes out and strikes the flesh that proposes to retrieve the paper.

Clemmie screams upon impact. Trying desperately to shake the snake from her hand, she loses balance and topples off the stand.

“Clemmie! No, no!” Coriolanus attempts to catch her as she falls, but Dr Gaul hinders him by pulling him back by his arm.

She lands with a heavy thud on her back. Gasps fill the air as she tires to regain her breath.

Already she looked pale. The skin on her hand turned a pale green color, and her eyes refused to blink or look anywhere else but directly in front of her.

“You asked about the colors, Ms Dovecott. I want my enemies to see a rainbow of destruction engulfing the world. I am not above using spectacle to create a little terror. A strategy your classmate here articulated very well in his proposal”.

Coriolanus watches as two peacekeepers and assistant come running over. The assistant administered a large needle which helped Clemmie regain her breath but not her composition.

The Peacekeepers then, without care, began to drag Clemmie across the floor and out a near door.

Coriolanus was left alone with Dr Gaul who turned her attention to him.

“I wonder if y/n would have chosen the same decision?”, she questioned.

“Will she die?” Coriolanus asked in a hard tone. More than Dr Gaul mentioning you, he hated the image of you lying in Clemmies place.

Dr Gaul shrugs her shoulders as if it didn’t really matter.

“The pleasure of breaking ground in one’s research is one gets to find out”, she dismissed.

She smirks as she turns back to the enclosure. Her hand reaches in and she begins to play with her pet snakes.

“You don’t like me talking about her do you?”, Dr Gaul picks up a loose piece of paper and thrusts it at Coriolanus, “for a boy who came up with these proposals, you sure do wear your heart on your sleeve”.

The paper crumbles in Coriolanus' grip. He looks at it to avoid eye contact with Dr Gaul.

“What would Miss y/n think if she saw them? They’re good, these proposals. I am planning to implement as many as possible”.

This causes Coriolanus to look up at Dr Gaul. If you knew, you were sure to never forgive him.

“Don’t worry” Dr Gaul said, as if she could read his mind, “I’ll take credit for this one. Miss y/n is yet to realize her place in this world”.

Dr Gaul closes the hatch to the snakes enclosure, turning her body towards Coriolanus.

“And who is to be beside her, wouldn’t you say?”, she taunts.

Coriolanus straightens up, dropping the ruined paper to the ground.

“Y/n isn’t part of this conversation”, Coriolanus snaps.

Dr Gaul grins at him in response, stepping closer so she could talk quieter but still be heard.

“We both want a new world, Mr Snow. My only question is how far are you willing to go to get it?’

She doesn’t let him answer. Seemingly, now bored of the conversation.

“Now run along, you have an arena to promote and it’s time for my milk and crackers”, she dismisses.

He takes the chance to leave. Storming down the steps and back along the hallway as fast as he could.

Coriolanus tries to keep himself from running out of the Citadel. He nearly stumbles over his feet trying to get out as quick as he can.

Turning behind him every so often to make sure no one was following him.

The whole scene plays in his mind again and again.

He was glad it wasn’t you in the end. You were already so traumatized after yesterday, it was a relief to not have to put you through that ordeal.

The walk through of the arena was not for another hour. He had time to check on you.

He was sure you were at school. Your parents wouldn’t let Sejanus into the house, and you wouldn’t have left Sejanus after yesterday. There was little chance you would have stayed at the Plinths. A smaller chance of Sejanus forcing you to as he should have.

Suddenly, Sejanus’ lack of care turned out to be a good thing.

Sejanus would be with his mentor getting ready for the tour. Which meant Coriolanus could see you without company.

He knew your class schedule well. He liked the knowledge while he was in one class, he knew which one you were in.

So he knew where to go and wait until the bell rang.

A group of people rushed out of the classroom before you. You were the only one walking alone so you were easy to spot.

You almost walk past him but he grabs your wrist and pulls you out of the line of people to a quiet staircase.

“Coriolanus?” you question.

You don’t fight him as he pulls you against the wall and stands in front of you like a shield.

The people who walk past eye the scene but make nothing of it.

“Coriolanus, are you okay?” you question.

He couldn’t tell you about Clemmie and Dr Gaul but he was also so desperate for comfort.

“Is it Arachne?” you ask. He nods his head ‘yes’ although his mind was far from it.

You put your hand that was free from the weight of your books on his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault’’, you console.

“I just wish I could have done more”, he lied.

He had thought little about Arachne since last night. But she was once again bringing you closer to him.

You shake your head, a sad expression pulls across your face and he instantly regrets his lie. Yesterday was traumatic to you, he shouldn't have played it up just for some sympathy.

“No” you repeat, “what happened was no one's fault but her own”.

He wanted to make the argument that perhaps the fault lies with no one else but the tribute, but it would open a conversation he did not want to have.

Instead he reaches up and places his hand on your elbow that had reached out to him.

“Are you okay?” he asks. It should have been his first question.

“I am fine” you say.

Your hand drops from his shoulder and he is forced to put his hand on the brick wall next to your hip.

The position wedged you in a corner. With his tall frame towering over you and now his arm blocking you in. It felt as if you were trapped.

“You should talk to someone. Arachne was your friend”, you state.

You shuffle slightly forward to hint to him that he was too close but he remains stagnant in his place.

“Arachne was not my friend”, he deflects.

You never liked her which meant Coriolanus never liked her.

“You're my friend. Arachne was just someone I grew up with. I hardly knew her”, Coriolanus tried a softer tone as his previous speech came off harder than intended.

He offered a kind smile that you did not return.

“I’ve been worried about you all day” he breathes.

His hand moves to your hip, and you are quick to push it off.

“Coriolanus you are acting strange, perhaps you should go see the school doctor. No one would blame you if you chose to drop out of mentoring after yesterday”.

Strange you called it. Not a man desperately in love. But a mad man that needs to be taken away.

This causes him to take a step back away from you. His eyes go down to the ground but shoot back up at you. Mentoring. In a haste he checks his watch.

He was supposed to be at the Arena in fifteen minutes but he is twenty minutes away.

He groans, cursing the length of the Citadel from here, and cursing your late class.

“I have to leave”, he says, “i just came to make sure you were okay”.

“I am”, you acknowledge.

He steps forward again, placing his hands on your shoulder blades and pulling you forward into his chest.

You stumble into him, timidly raising your hands to pat his lower back.

“Forget your last class, you should go home”, he begs.

He feels you push back against him so he lets you go and takes a step back.

“You should worry more about yourself. You look so pale”.

When you reach out to touch his forehead, he leans into your touch. Loving the way your little warm hand felt.

He knew it didn’t mean anything. You were kind. He could have been anyone and you would have done the same thing.

Still he allows himself a second of pretend that it meant more.

“I have to go”, he says again, “Just promise me that you’ll go home”.

“Sure, Coriolanus”, you amuse.

It was enough to hear it. He didn’t need to believe it.

With a final smile, he reaches up to touch your elbow once more and leaves you in the dark corner.

His run to the arena would have been easier for him if he had any fuel to burn.

His breakfast of a single potato did not provide enough energy to make the distance, yet he pushed himself further than his body wanted him to.

It paid off when he reached the arena just in time for walk-in.

He filed in next to Lucy-Grey seconds before the doors opened.

“I didn’t think you were going to make it”, lucy-Grey admits.

“We’re going to win this” Coriolanus vows, “Together”.

The arena is dark. An ominous red glow from the ticket vendor invites them in.

The camera crew are already there, pointing their large frames in the faces of the tributes.

Lucy-Grey smiles at it, before it pans to a Solomon looking Sejanus walking behind his tribute.

When the shutters open, the streaming light startles Lucy-Grey who pulls back against Coriolanus.

He steadies her, looking around for possible strategies.

“Please” Lucy-Grey grabs his arm to turn him towards her, “Please, Coriolanus, don’t let me die in here tomorrow”.

Before he can answer he is knocked off his feet by a large explosion. He feels heavy gusts of wind from three other directions meaning there was no safe direction he could turn too.

Lucy-Grey lands beside him, and he scrambles to help her to her feet.

The dust is heavy and clouds them. He could feel lucy-gray in his grasp but could only faintly see her. The screams and commotion make it impossible to hear what she is trying to say.

Another loud explosion tore the roof down over them.

He releases Lucy-gray so they could both run for cover.

Days of the war spring to his memory. The rebels were back to finish him off.

The force of the explosion knocked him off balance and onto the floor.

He could see peoples feet as they scramble past but none stop to help him.

A louder, cracking noise spoke of his bigger issue and he turns to see a large pailing coming down towards him.

Knowing he wouldn't have enough time to get to his feet, he began to crawl as fast as he could.

It wasn’t fast enough. The hot metal pailing pins his shoulder to the ground. He could smell his own flesh burning as he lay trapped.

Was this how it ended? He regrets not kissing you today. He had always been reserved. Afraid of your rejection. But he should have just took. Now he’ll die without ever getting to taste you.

Through the smoke he could see Lucy-Grays boots come into view.

“Help me” he begs. He still had so much to do.

She looks to be bending down to assist when she is interrupted by Marcus flying across towards the open door.

“Leave him” he demands, “He wouldn’t save you”.

Marcus doesn’t stick around for her decision. Running to his freedom just across the room.

It was true, if it come down to it Coriolanus would save himself. But Lucy-Gray needed him to survive. She would only get caught in the Capitol and then thrown in the area without a mentor.

She must have realized that too because she bent back down to lift the burning metal off Coriolanus. She didn’t have to lift it far for Coriolanus to roll out from under it.

He is panting heavily he realizes, and is unable to move his shoulder.When Peacekeeper came to take lucy-gray away. Coriolanus couldn’t even rise from the floor to stop them.

He throws out his good hand in an attempt to do something. But the searing pain in his shoulder and his cloudy head hindered him from being able to help.

The last image he could see was her looking down at her burnt hands before it all went black.

His pounding headache woke him to the sight of you by his bed.

He didn’t believe it. He had to be dead.

His hand lashes out to take a hold of your wrist. You felt real.

Your reaction seemed real. A startled look of surprise and discomfort.

“Woah, Corio, take it slow”, the voice of Tigres calls to him.

He looks away from your face to see Tigres sitting in the chair next to you.

“What?” Coriolanus questioned, “What happened?”.

He lets go of your wrist only so he could rise from the bed. The ache in his shoulder becoming more apparent as he moved.

“It was a rebel bombing. They must have been planning it for months. Four tributes were killed”.

Coriolanus almost scowls hearing his voice.

Sejanus sat in a chair positioned on the other side of the bed. You hadn’t come to him in his hour of need. You were merely tagging along with your boyfriend.

“Everyone is terrified, Corio” Tigres explains, “Fliex Ravenstill is on life support”.

“The rebels released a message. They said they want to tear down the symbol of the Hunger Games. Marcus got out. He’s the only one. Peacekeepers are hunting him in the streets but at least he has a better chance out there than he would tomorrow”, Sejanus gravely mutters.

“Tomorrow?” Coriolanus expounds, “They’re not still going ahead with the Games?”

“We can’t look weak in front of the enemy,” you spat, “Everything is going ahead as scheduled. I don’t even know if Lucy-Gray will be able to play tonight”.

“The interviews”, Coriolanus guessed, still hazy.

He pulls himself up out of bed, holding out his arm for you to help his rise.

You do, automatically, hooking his good arm over your shoulder and wrapping your arm across his waist to keep him up.

‘‘You shouldn’t get out of bed”, you criticize him.

Normally he wouldn’t ignore you, but the interviews started fifty minutes ago.

Sejanus rises to in order to assist Coriolanus as he shuffles forward, but Coriolanus barks another order at him.

“Sejanus, turn the Tv to the interviews”.

Like a good dog, he obeys. Leaving another man hanging onto his girlfriend.

“Careful, Corio” Tigres directs.

Coriolanus takes tigres arm as he couldn’t lift his shoulder so all his weight wasn’t passed on to you.

The Tv turns just in time to watch Lucy-gray come out with a guitar, and a big smile.

Sejanus makes his way over to you, offering to take your place as Coriolanus’ anchor.

He is quick to speak for you. Stating that the change would topple him to the floor.

Sejanus relents and takes his place beside you. You made no complaints so Coriolanus’ weight couldn’t have been hurting you.

Coriolanus had missed the opening introduction due to Sejanus, but was now focused enough as Lucy-Gray went into her song.

“Where did she get the guitar?” Coriolanus asks. He had been too busy to organize her one before the bombing.

“I brought it for her”, you answer, “i went to see if she was okay after the bombing and she said she needed a guitar for her interview. Said she’ll feel naked without it”.

“Thank you. That was very kind”, Coriolanus commended softly.

Coriolanus always knew someday that you and him would make a great team.

Your eyes are trained on Lucy-gray, and Coriolanus followed suit.

She sang about a boy back home and a betrayal. Was that what she was referring to when she said it was complicated back home. Will she fight with everything she had in her or does she secretly hope that she will die just to spite her past lover.

It was additional stress Coriolanus could have lived without.

“The poor girl” you mutter with tears rolling down your face.

Coriolanus squeezes your shoulders in comfort.

‘She’ll be okay” he promises. He would ensure it for his own survival and your personal satisfaction now that you and his tribute were friendly.

“Thank you for being here”, he says looking down at you, before turning his sights to Tigres, “All of you”.

“It’s what friends do”, Sejanus answers. The only person Coriolanus was not speaking to.

“I don’t think you should be standing”, you say, trying to turn Coriolanus back to bed.

He allows you to lead him there where you tuck him back into bed.

You ruin the moment by going straight back into Sejanus’ arms once Coriolanus has settled.

“We’ll leave you to rest” Sejanus states.

He looked too unhappy for a man who held you in his arms.

“Goodnight” he bids, ‘and y/n, thank you for helping Lucy-Gray tonight”.

Her performance wouldn't have been half as moving with the soft, sad melody accompanying it.

“Good luck, Coriolanus. I hope she wins”, you remark.

With the Plinth prize and the love of his life on the line; lucy-gray was going to be the 10th annual winner of the Hunger Games.

Coriolanus just had to figure out how to give her a competitive edge.

He visited the zoo later that night after scouting out the new arena. With four tributes already dead and the new tunnels revealed, the bombing may have been the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“Lucy-gray!” he calls softly, “Lucy-gray!”

He can hear the pounding of her footsteps as they come closer. He checks for Guards and woken tributes as she made unnecessary noise. None were aroused so he remained in his spot.

“You’re alive!” She exclaims as she nears the fence.

“Those bombs have changed everything”, he wastes no time to explain his purpose here, “They blew the walls out. So that means you can escape up into the stands. Theres a hole down in the floor, it leads down to some tunnels. You can escape there, I tried it.So the moment you hear that bell ring, you run as fast as you can for that hole and find a palace to hide down below alone”.

‘Alone? No, jessups my friend”, she argues.

He shakes his head ‘no’.

“The moment that bell rings, you can’t trust anyone. Not even jessup. Just lay low down there until its safe to come out”, he demands.

Couldn't she see that she was risking not only her own life, but his, with her undying loyalty.

“Thank you. You and y/n have been so nice to me. I don’t know what I would have done without you both”, Lucy-Grey declares, “I don’t know how i’ll ever pay you back for your kindness”.

“You can win”, Coriolanus orders, “you winning will be life changing for y/n and I. We can finally live the life we want to live. When you win, you’ll win for all of us”.

‘I’ll try, but-” she begins but never finishes as Coriolanus cuts her off.

“Theres no ‘buts’. Theres no other option”, he asserts.

Lucy-Gray begins to cry from the pressure of it all.

“Hey”, he whispers in sympathy.

“I am sorry. I am more hopeful in the day light but when it gets to night”, she whimpers.

“It’s okay” he consoles, reaching for his handkerchief in his pocket. The same one he used to wipe your tears, he now used to wipe the tears of Lucy-gray.

“We are going to win, Lucy-Gray. I promise.”.

“Y/n, real lucky to have a friend like you” Lucy-gray comments.

He knew that. Who else would be willing to risk everything for your happiness. It didn’t even bother him that Lucy-gray referred to him as your friend.

All that matters is that someone else realizes the depth of his love.

“I am very lucky to have her”. He breaths. He was cautious to say too much.

“Look, that song, I need to know that you are serious about winning”, he demands.

“That song? That was just pay back, that’s all”, she defenders, “my old boyfriend Billy taupe was cheating on me with the mayor's daughter. She got crazy jealous, had her pa read my name out on stage, and now everyone will know what they did to me”.

The look upon her face told him that she was serious, so he reached into his breast pocket to pull out his most prized possession.

“Here” he shoves the compact into Lucy’s-Grays hand.

“I can’t” she resists, “It’s too fine”

He clasps his hands over hers to stop her passing it back.

“It’s not a gift. It’s a loan. His large hands wrap entirely around Lucy-Gray’s little fingers.

“Whats in here, don’t touch it. Don’t even breathe it in because small amounts can be deadly”.

He could faintly see Lucy-gray staring back at him in the dark. Her big brown eyes caught the lighting of the Zoo and shined back at him.

“I have seen what war does to people, okay?”, he lectures, “I’ve seen it, and there will come a time when you need this, when you need to act. We all do things we’re not proud of to survive.”

Unexpectedly she brings her head forward to bars in an attempt to kiss him. He lowers his head slightly to dissuade her.

The last thing he needed was word getting back to you through a Tribute pretending to be asleep, or just his poor luck to have a Capitol citizen decide to visit the Zoo at the exact moment of weakness.

“I am sorry”, she gasps, “you said it was complicated with y/n, and y/n said she was with Sejanus so I”.

She doesn’t finish her sentence, too embarrassed.

Coriolanus shakes it off like it was nothing, in an attempt to ease her.

“It’s fine. I just”, Coriolanus wasn’t sure what to say.

You were with Sejanus. There was no real reason why he couldn’t kiss lucy-gray.

It was mis-guided loyalty to a woman who kissed another man. Sometimes right in front of Coriolanus.

Still it didn’t feel right. He wanted you to be the only person he kissed.

“It’s”, Coriolanus begins.

“Complicated”, Lucy-Gray finishes.

Coriolanus moves closer, bringing his head as far as he could to the bars.

“We’re gonna win this Lucy-Gray. We’re gonna win this together. I’m going to get you home, back to the Covery, okay? I promise”.

Coriolanus looks at his victor. His dog in the race. He’s bet it all on her, and he’ll be damned if she was going to let him down.

The morning of the Games, Coriolanus couldn’t even eat his cabbage soup that Tigres had worked so hard to prepare.

He kisses Grandma’am and Tigress goodbye before beginning his long journey to school.

There would be cameras and crowds of people. He had to look composed, but inside he felt the most scared he had ever been.

The feeling eased seeing you across the auditorium.

Your hair was down, and your uniform looked freshly pressed. Sejanus held you by the waist as you spoke to him, and you rested your hands on top of his.

It didn’t matter you were here for Coriolanus just as much as you were for Sejanus. His tribute wasn’t even participating. If anything you had come to support Coriolanus and Lucy-Gray.

“Coryo!” Sejanus called for him as he approached the mentors chairs.

Sejanus lets go of you, which is something Coriolanus would never do, to place a hand on Coriolanus shoulder.

“Hey” Coriolanus greets. His eyes remain on you and how you smile at him.

“How you doing? You alright?” Sejanus asks.

“Better”, Coriolanus dismisses.

He sees a photographer approaching from the corner of his eye, and takes the opportunity to take a step back to invite you between Sejanus and himself.

With a hand on your lower back, he propels you forward. The hand remains as you shuffle next to him.

“Over here please!”, the man with the large camera calls.

Coriolanus smiles at the camera, and he hoped you were too. The flash blinds him, and your smiles fades too fast to be certain it ever was really there.

“How are you this morning?”, Coriolanus asks softly.

“Not about to be forced to fight to the death”, you snap.

You don’t look at him as you speak as you often choose not to do.

“Here we go. Here we go, everyone, come on”, Lucky flickerman diverts people back to their seats, before Coriolanus has the opportunity to comfort you.

Sejanus' large hand goes to the back of your neck, and he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Wait for me over there?” he asks, flicking his head to the nearest bleacher to his seat.

It was the furthest from Coriolanus’ seat, but you nod in agreement and move to his direction.

Coriolanus is ushered into his own seat. He has to crane his neck to look at you sitting on the end of the bleacher all by yourself. He hates to see you as a social out-cast.

“Five, four, three, two”, the music signals the start of Lucky Flickerman's introduction.

Coriolanus ignores him mostly. Turning in his chair to watch you engrossed in the large television in front of you.

Your hands grip the seat underneath you. He would give anything to be able to comfort you.

He wanted to tell you that it was all going to be okay. If he sat you where he wanted, he would have been able to hold your hand, but Sejanus had put distance between you and him, so he would have to watch from afar.

Suddenly you gasp, bring your hand up to your mouth with a frightened expression.

Coriolanus turns back to the screens to see what could have caused such a reaction.

They had found Marcus and left him strung up and half-alive in the arena. It was cruel even for Coriolanus.

You shouldn’t have had to see that. Coriolanus wished he could have protected you from it. A district boy taught a lesson, at the expense of your poor, soft heart.

You’ll be crying about it for weeks with only Sejanus for consolation.

Coriolanus wasn’t sure who would be comforting who with the way Sejanus jumped from his chair.

As soon as he is out of it, the chair was flying across the room. Only stopping when it hits the force of the wall.

“You’re monsters! All of you!” He screams to the audience.

He storms past Lucky flickerman who begins the countdown to the Games as if Sejanus had never existed at all.

Coriolanus gets up, rushing over to you as you rise to follow Sejanus.

He manages to catch your arm just as you make it to the exit way.

The scene was out of the line of camera-shot. Past the first three rows of seats, and hidden by the depth of the stands.

Coriolanus felt hidden enough to not let go of your arm, despite you struggling against him.

You turn back to see how had stopped you with an angry expression, but it doesn’t soften when you see it’s him.

“Don’t”, he begs. He wanted you to stay and support him.

It didn’t matter if you knew it or not, but you were his biggest comfort, and that’s what he needed as he watched Lucy-Gray fight for his life.

You don’t listen to him, tugging your arm out of his grip and chasing after Sejanus without looking back.

Coriolanus watches as you go with a heavy breath.

‘And they’re off!” Lucky announces.

Coriolanus turns to watch Lucy-Gray run from her mark.

“Run”, he demands softly. He takes a few steps forward but is halted when Lucy-Gray remains in the same spot, looking around.

“What are you doing? Run” he groans.

He staggers back to his seat, gripping the plastic back tightly in his hand.

His eyes shut when Lucy-Gray narrowly avoids a strike from Reaper.

Why won’t anyone ever listen to him, he wondered.

A district 2 kid gets slaughtered which gains the Cameras full attention. When it pans back to a field shot, Lucy-Gray was crossing the broken fragments with Coral hot on her heels.

Coriolanus felt the need to take a seat as he watched. A few of his eliminated classmates wished him well as they left, but Coriolanus remained slumped against his hand.

It wasn’t until she had gathered Jessup and began racing for the hole in the ground that Coriolanus lifted his head again.

“Go, go, go”, he muttered. The pack was closing in. Hell bent on taking out Lucy-gray.

They almost manage to, but Lucy-Gray slips through the broken door, and a squabble prohibits the hunters coming in.

He sighs. At least she was safe for now. He would worry about Jessup when it came time for it. Whats the point of worrying now? It was still anybody's game. He could very well die within the next hour from a surprise attack.

Coriolanus squirms in his seat watching as another child is hacked apart by dull weapons.

He pushes it from his mind as soon as the camera shifts. Lucy-Gray was safe, thats all that mattered. She still has a shot at winning.

Nothing more happened. All the tributes found shelter in one corner or another. Only Reaper paced the opened space, willing someone to come attack him.

Coriolanus wonders if you will be back. He hoped you would come check on him.

Coriolanus rises his head to the screen once more as Lamina makes her way up the broken fragments to where Marcus hung. Reaper gave her space, seemingly knowing what she was doing.

A small conversation between the two preceded Lamina swinging her axe down.

Coriolanus shudders hearing the impact. He hoped you didn’t see that.

He could only imagine the sobbing it would cause.

Lamina cuts marcus down and he falls like a bag of bricks.

She gazes down at him. Coriolanus couldn’t tell if it was in remorse, or in quiet pride of giving him a merciful death.

The sound of the drone coming near broke her concentration. The water attached swung in the air as it flew too fast towards her. She rose, reaching out to catch it.

Coriolanus almost laughed when it drove straight past her and smashed into the rocks.

The night dragged on, but Coriolanus remained. Eyes glued to the screen in hope of a glance of Lucy-Gray.

The camera stayed mainly above ground where the action was, but sometimes he got a dash at what Lucy-Gray was doing.

She was still alive. Or at least was, ten minutes ago.

The other mentors, and most of the audience had left as the night bled.

Nothing had really happened for hours. A squabble or a chase here and there but most of the fight had left the tributes.

“If only you could trap y/n as easily as you have trapped that poor girl”, Dean Highbottoms voice surprised Coriolanus.

“I’ve trapped her?”Coriolanus fought, “I didn’t create the Games”.

He saw Dean Highbottom flinch ever so slightly. If he hadn't been looking so intensely, he would have missed it.

“No”, Highbottom concedes, “but you’ve fueled its continuance. You’ve turned dying children into spectacles , Mr Snow. Congratulations”.

Coriolanus ignores him, turning back to the screens.

“Are you honestly hoping that winning the plinth prize will win you the girl?”, Dean Highbottom mocks.

“I am hoping my hard work will pay off”, Coriolanus bites.

“I saw you before with miss y/n, trying to stop her from leaving”.

“I was trying to stop her from making a fool out of herself”.

“What do you want from that poor girl?”.

Coriolanus knew there was no point in lying. Dean Highbottom had already figured out Coriolanus’ intentions.

“Only whats best”, he answers.

“Hm and you think winning the Plinth prize will help you decide what is best for her?”, Hightbom begins to laugh, his voice taking on a sing-songy tone, “Wake up mr Snow. Who do you think decides? Even if your songbird wins, I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you don’t see a single dime of that prize money’.

Coriolanus turns back to Highbottom with his anger logged in his throat.

The older man smiles back. Coriolanus knew the man was trying to get him to slip up. But his aggravation won’t lose him the prize. If Highbottom wanted it, he would have to rip it from Coriolanus’s hands.

Instead he turns back to the screen. Lucy-gray was still underground, feeding Jessup water.

He could hear Dean Highbottom walking away which left him with a small victory.

Coriolanus takes a deep breath, and sits straightener in his chair.

It wasn’t over. Dean Highbottom wasn’t the only authority. When Coriolanus won, surely Dr Gaul would fight for him. The other teachers too. The star pupil robbed of the victory? Coriolanus would see to an up roar.

At some point Coriolanus began to doze off. The late night and the slow turn of events left him the last one in the auditorium. The quietness of it all had his eyes shutting.

“Coriolanus?”. He heard your voice call.

He ignores it ,sure it was a dream. But you tap his arm, and his eyes shoot open to see you standing in front of him.

You were still in your school uniform, your hair slightly more messy than a couple of hours prior and you looked on the verge of tears.

It panicked him greatly to see you in such a state.

He reaches out, quickly taking your wrist in his hold.

“Huh, what happened? Are you okay?”, he asks.

“Has Sejanus been here?”, you quake.

Coriolanus shakes his head ‘no’.

He could have rolled his eyes. Of course, Sejanus was behind your tears once more. Coriolanus had never made you cry.

“Why would he be here?”, Coriolanus asks. It seemed an unlikely place to visit while his old friend lay dead on several different screens.

Tears begin to roll down your cheeks causing Coriolanus to spring up, attempting to bring you in his arms. You push him away, keeping an arms length distance between you both.

“I thought maybe he would come see you. We were sleeping and I woke up, and he was gone”, you explain with a shaky breath, “I don’t know where he could have went, Coriolanus. He’s not in a good place. I am worried-”

“Not in a good place, indeed” Dr Gauls voice booms through the open space.

This time when Coriolanus touched you, he was given permission. He pulls you next to him to face Dr Gaul together.

Dr Gaul was disinterested in the couple, taking the master remote and turning all the channels to the same camera.

“Sejanus!”, you gasp upon seeing your boyfriend knelt down next to his old friend in the arena.

Your hand takes a hold of Coriolanus' arm in a tight grip. Your painted nails dig into his uniform jacket.

“Breadcrumbs” Dr Gaul annotates while the room watches Sejanus spread the food over his friend, “I believe substance for a fallen comrade in his final journey. A district 2 superstition”.

“How did he get in there?” you question, never once tearing your eyes from the screen.

“I’ll work on finding the peacekeeper he bribed to let him in, and remove his tongue”, Dr Gual snarls, “in the meantime I need you to get him out right now”.

Dr Gaul looked directly at you which spiked Coriolanus heart rate,

“You should send Peacekeepers in”, he demanded. There was no way you were joining Sejanus in the arena.

“Only to have him bolt and hide like a rabbit?”, Dr Gaul retorts. “Fleix Ravenstill is fighting for his life in a hospital bed, Mr Snow. I will not have these rebels make a further mockery of my games. Anyone sees us lose control of this arena, it might as well be sounding a horn to the districts to revolt!”.

Dr Gaul takes a breath, trying to regain the composure lost. She turns her sight back on you, who had dropped Coriolanus' arm during her speech.

You stood brave, staring straight back at her with discontempt.

“You choose to be lovers with the radical. Don’t you want him out?”, Dr Gaul gages you.

Coriolanus steps forward trying to take Dr Gauls attention away from you.

‘‘Sending her into the arena will get her killed. It’ll look a lot worse if the tributes kill two Capitol students”, Coriolanus justifies.

“A volunteer then?”,Dr Gual pushes.

“I’ll go”, You say too quickly, “I can get him out”.

“I’ll go”, Coriolanus declares.

The mere thought of you in the arena left a sick feeling in his stomach. He wouldn’t watch helplessly on the other side of the screen while you risked your life for Sejanus.

He couldn’t believe Sejanus had put you in this position. Coriolanus’s every move was calculated with you in mind.

It was pure luck that you had chosen to seek Coriolanus out. If you hadn’t he would have woken the next morning to see you dead in the arena next to Sejanus.

He would go into the arena to save Sejanus if it meant saving you.

“No!” you protested, once again grabbing hold of Coriolanus arm to pull him back.

He turns to you with a look of irritation on his face.

“What chance do you think you stand if one of the tributes decide to attack? I am stronger, faster”, Coriolanus explained. He hated being irritated at you, but you wouldn’t see sense, “I’ll get him out, y/n. I promise”.

“Unless you are both secretly hoping he’ll die in that arena, we need to move fast”, Dr Gaul utters.

Her expression had changed from one of anger to quiet amusement, but she had not forgotten the task at hand.

She turns, expecting the children to follow her as she talks. Coriolanus follows suit, leading you as you wrap yourself around his arm.

He would have shaken you off. You had no place being even near the arena, let alone outside of its gates, but he loved the way you clung to him.

Your tight hold told him you would fight if he tried to leave you. Really it was the way you should be holding him. Not just now, in a state of emergency.

“I’ll freeze the feed for one hour”, Dr Gaul says as she moves out of the school, “I expect thats all the time we have until someone notices”.

A Peacekeeper van is waiting down the steps of the school. Dr Gaul jumps in, leaving the back of the van open for the children.

Coriolanus helps you up into the back of the van before lifting himself up behind you. The doors are closed shut as he enters, and the van takes off before he is fully sat next to you.

You are unusually quiet. Coriolanus could tell you were scared from the way you sat. Arms crossed across your chest, looking straight ahead of you with a glazed look.

Coriolanus places a hand on your knee in comfort but you don’t seem to register it.

He tries not to mind Dr Gauls' searing stare from the other bench. He focuses on you and your state of worry.

You begin to chew your lip absentmindedly. He wanted to pull it from between your teeth to get you to stop, but the van lurched forward as it stopped.

The drive wasn’t long, but the peacekeeper sped to it anyway.

As the doors are pulled open, Coriolanus takes a deep breath. There was no guarantee that he wouldn't be beaten to death by a tribute trying to save a man he loathed.

Grandma’am and Tigres wouldn’t survive without him, but if he died, he would at least make sure Sejanus died along with him.

If he couldn't have you, Sejanus definitely couldn’t.

“Lets go, Mr Snow”, Dr Gual urges.

She jumps out first. Coriolanus could hear her directing the Peacekeepers on what was about to happen.

You rise with Coriolanus. But He doesn’t allow you to get to the door as he does.

He jumps down and spins, placing his hand on the doors and bringing them closer together.

"Stay in the van”, he orders.

Surely, even on the off chance that a tribute managed to get through the gates, you would be safe in a locked van.

You nod your head in understanding, trying to ease his worry.

It doesn’t work but he appreciates it anyway.

He smiles up at you, taking the time to have a good look at you in case it was his last time.

With the doors shut on you, he could focus more clearly. He wasn’t going to die in that arena. He wasn’t going to die by a district hand.

He was going to get out alive. You were going to wake up to yourself and realise that you had been hopelessly in love with Coriolanus this whole time.

The gates are unlocked and he feels his confidence waver. Nevertheless, he persits with his mission and with a careful step he enters the arena.

It’s dark and quiet. The moonlight does little to help. A tribute could jump out at any time and Coriolanus would never see them coming.

He was cautious to make any sounds, stepping softly on the fragmented rocks.

The gate makes it stupid welcome message as he passes through it under the belief the game makers would have been smart enough to disable it.

His breath gets caught in his throat while waiting to see who it attracts. He doesn’t move.

He feels the blood rush to his ears, and his body ready itself to fight. No one comes.

Coriolanus’s eyes scan the room for whatever movement he could pick up on. It seemed there was none.

With a shaky breath he attempts to continue on, when his heightened ears pick up on a scuffle behind him.

He spins quickly, ready to dodge an attack. He wished it had been a tribute, and not you trying to climb over the turn stalls.

On its own accord, his face scrunches in anger. His footsteps are louder than he liked as he stormed over to you.

He takes your hips into what he was sure was a painful hold, and looks past you to see they had already locked the gate. You were now trapped in here with angry Tributes with nothing to lose.

Previously, he had never thought it possible to be angry with you. Now he wanted to scream in your face until you cried.

He helps you down, softly to the ground, and catches your hand harshly in his.

“You’re an idiot”, he whispers, “Stay close”.

He squeezes your fingers into the palm of his hand, but you make no complaint as you follow him into the arena.

Coriolanus felt his anxiety and senses heightened. He could faintly see Sejanus in the moonlight still knelt on the ground next to Marcus.

He felt you pull against his hold as you near Sejanus, but he refuses to let you go an inch.

If there was a tribute lurking he wanted to know where you were.

“Sejanus”, you whisper when you are within earshot.

He spins straight away upon hearing you. The panic he should have had all along, comes crashing all at once. He looked like a man who had seen a ghost as he rose from the floor.

‘What are you doing here?”, he questions in a strained, soft voice.

Sejanus takes your arms in his hands. Coriolanus wanted to yank you out of his hold, but a squabble would cause unnecessary attention.

“Get her out of here, Coryo”, Sejanus demands.

“I would like to. Believe me”, Coriolanus scolds. His eyes darted around the room, ensuring that all was still unnoticed.

“I am not leaving without you”, with your free hand you reach out to take a fist full of Sejanus shirt.

“I have to do this” Sejanus justifies, “I have to go where the cameras are”.

“You think anyone is watching this?” Coriolanus spat, taking a step closer to the couple, “Gaul cut the feed. Tributes kill you in here, she’s just going to say you died from the flu”.

“They won’t kill me”, Sejanus vows.

“Yes they will!” you reproach.

Maybe there was hope for you, Coriolanus thinks, Maybe Sejanus hadn’t brainwashed you fully.

The moonlight as it bounces off Lamina’s axe catches Coriolanus’s eye, and the safety net had now disappeared. She wouldn’t attack, but she could draw attention at any time.

“You need to decide right now”, Coriolanus demands, he breaks Sejanus' hold on you in case you need to run, and focuses Sejanus attention on himself, “do you want to fight these tributes or fight for them? Because if you want to make real change, you need to stay alive”.

“How can I make any change from out there?”, Sejanus discredits his power.

He was not worthy of his power if he had no brains on how to use it.

“You’re rich, smart. You care. You stood up to Gaul in that class, didn’t you? Spend your fathers money, do some real good”, a clash of the metal resounds in the arena. More would wake from the noise, and the group wouldn’t stand a chance.

“We’re dead. Y/n’s dead if we don’t leave right now”, Coriolanus reprimand, “Come with us, or just be another body in Gaul’s war”.

He knew he would have to fight to get you to leave Sejanus. But he was only allowing a few more seconds before he raced you to the exit.

Worried that you would get yourself killed in the struggle to save Sejanus, Coriolanus turns to begging as a last resort.

Placing a hand on Sejanus' shoulder, he brings the delusional boy closer.

“Please, Sejanus. We’re friends. Trust me”, Coriolanus pleaded.

You tug on Sejanus' shirt to move, “Come” you implore.

His large, dirty palm goes over your hand, “Alright”, he whispers.

The attack came at the perfect time. Coriolanus heard the shuffling of the boys shoes giving him time to pull you back towards the exit, before the war cry resounded through the arena.

“Go, Run!” he demands, pushing you ahead of him.

You sprint as fast as you can across the broken floor. Coriolanus caught up easily, pushing you forward urging you to move faster.

Sejanus lagged behind, choosing to look at the fast approaching tribute.

“Go! Go!” Coriolanus yells at you when you turn around to see where Sejanus was.

You don’t look back again, until you reach the turn stalls.

Coriolanus jumps over with ease, turning back to help you over. You stumble as your foot gets stuck on the rusty metal turn, and Coriolanus drags you over it as fast as he could.

His hand takes a hold of yours once more as Sejanus approaches the stand with the tribute hot on his heels.

He runs forward with you, eager to get you to safety beyond the gates.

Sejanus screams as he stumbles over the hard metal and you halt your quick pace to safety.

You call for him, trying to tug your hand out of Coriolanus’s. He resists, trying to get you to leave Sejanus.

Coriolanus promises to go back for him once you were beyond the gates but you wouldn’t have it.

He drops your hand, rathering his own life to be in danger for Sejanus than yours.

Coriolanus reaches Sejanus quicker than you do, and yanks him off the ground.

‘Come on, get up!”Sejanus tries to regain his feet but his knee refuses to take any weight, “y/n, get to the gate!”, Coriolanus commands.

You don’t turn, running towards Sejanus instead of away. You take his other arm over your shoulder, trying to assist Coriolanus.

The screaming of the tribute came closer, and before Coriolanus could move, the sharp edge of a blade hacked into his shoulder. It was a far swing from the tribute but with enough force to split skin.

He drops Sejanus to dodge the next attack. You fall into the wall, unable to support Sejanus by yourself.

The tribute now closer, stalks over to you with his sword held high. Sejanus tries a feeble attempt to shield you, but Coriolanus takes hold of a metal ruin that was stuck between cement, determined that not one hair on your head would be touched.

He scrambles off the ground and swings the cement at the tribute with a loud scream.

The young boy stumbles off balance, but readies himself again. He swung back with the blade which Coriolanus narrowly missed before bringing the cement down across the boy's head.

It lands him on the ground, but Coriolanus doesn’t stop there, bringing it down once more on the boy who threatened his girl

“Coriolanus!” you call to him. More tributes were coming out of the shadows.

He drops his weapon, going back over to you to help lift the weight of Sejanus.

Sejanus pushes through the pain to quicken the pace of the shuffle, but comotion had inlived the most dangerous pack. Corals groups hooped and hollered as they approached.

“Y/n, open the gate!”, Coriolanus demands, wanting you to be first out.

Sejanus drops his arm from your shoulder, and you take the permission to take off ahead and bang on the gate until it opens.

Coriolanus could hear the tributes as they run. They weren’t far off. He wasn’t sure they would even make it to the gate in time, but you would and that’s what matters.

You push yourself out with the gate as it opens, turning back to look at the boys with wide, fearful eyes.

Coriolanus pushes himself to be faster, taking nearly all of Sejanus' weight onto him.

They make it just in time, and fall to a heap on the floor next to Peacekeepers boots.

Corioanus pushes Sejanus off him. His hand reaches for his shoulder that now weeped blood.

He groans as he feels the ache of the gash, next to his still searing burn mark.

He is distracted momentarily when Coral reaches the gate, and throws her spear into it.

“Keep your eyes on the screen, gorgeous”, she taunts Coriolaus, throwing her head in the direction of you, “ I may have missed her tonight, but your songbirds next on my list”.

The Peacekeepers demand that her group get back and the tributes disappear back into the dark tunnel.

He had followed Corals gaze to you on the floor. Your tears run down your cheeks now that the adrenaline is gone.

Coriolanus moves to get you off the floor and into his arms, but you move as he does, and crawl across the floor to where Sejanus lay.

You wrap your arms around his neck and sob into him.

“I am okay”, he promises. His large hand rubs soothing circles on your back.

You pull back in anger and begin hitting his chest as you speak.

“How could you?”, you reprimand, “how could you do that?”.

“I am sorry, I had to do something”. Sejanus winces as he tries to sit up. His knee no doubt, completely ruined.

“You could have been killed”, you cry with a push against his attempted hold.

Was this the end of the bleeding heart couple? Coriolanus felt a spark of joy, watching as you fought.

“Coriolanus could have died!”, as if you had forgotten about him you now turn to him, ‘Oh, Coriolanus”, you cry, “Are you okay?”.

Coriolanus hand went back to his shoulder, feeling the wet patch of blood soak through his school jacket. He had no other uniform, even Tigres wouldn't be able to fix it.

“Coryo, I am so sorry”, Sejanus apologies. It meant nothing to Coriolanus who ignored him.

A car screeches to a stop and two car doors slam.

The car is sleek and expensive with its own full time driver waiting with the lights on.

Next to it stood Ma and Mr Plinth, who were well dressed as always.

Ma was crying, but Mr Plinth stood stoic and angry.

He gave Coriolanus a thankful nod but remained far away expecting his son to come to him.

Ma runs over to her baby, wrapping herself around her sons head.

Coriolanus takes the opportunity to move closer to you. You stand upon seeing him approach.

“Are you alright?’, he questioned.

You reach up, taking his neck and bringing him down into a hug. He gratefully goes, never expecting a hug before the relationship began.

“Thank you, Coriolanus. I would have died in there”, you muttered.

The hug is too short, before he is ready you are pulling away to look at his shoulder.

“Coriolanus needs help!’, you announce, “Somebody needs to take him to the hospital!”.

“Come with me”, he begs you.

“Don’t worry, Miss y/n. I’ll take care of our hero here”, Dr Gaul inserts herself where she is not wanted once more. She looked amused at Coriolanus’s physical and emotional pain.

“Y/n, baby”, Sejanus calls to you. The driver had left the car to assist Sejanus while his father looks on.

Coriolanus reluctantly lets go as you move to the sound of your name.

“You’ll look after him?”, you question Dr Gaul. Coriolanus wanted to beg you not to believe her.

“He’ll be good as new. You have my word”, Dr Gaul promises.

He shutters as you move further back.

Mr Plinth does not cross for his son, but he crosses to come collect you.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder to lead you to the car.

You look back at Coriolanus as you are led. Taking one final glance before entering the car with Sejanus.

Coriolanus watches as the car takes off. He wondered if you had your arms wrapped around Sejanus in the back.

He decides it is best not to submit his body to further stress and pushes it out of his mind. The walk home would help him clear his head, and focus only on the positives of the night. You relied on him tonight. Even acknowledged that he had saved your life. That was a step in the right direction.

“And where do you think you are going, Mr Snow”, Dr Gaul calls out after him.

“Home”, he announces over his good shoulder.

‘And make a liar out of me?” she walks in the opposite direction towards the Peacekeeper van, “Come”.

The ride back is silent. The same hurry to get there was not offered on the way back. Coriolanus shoulder ached, the blood would not stop pouring, sticking his shirt to his back and irritating his wound.

Dr gaul doesn’t speak again until they are back in her lab.

He couldn’t believe she had taken him back to her experimental freak show instead of a hospital. But he was in pain and in need of medical care so he didn’t verbalize his complaints.

“How did it feel?” she asks as she readies her station for him, “when you killed the boy to save y/n?”.

He should have known she was watching.

‘I didn’t have a choice”, he spat as he unbuttoned his shirt and took a seat in front of her.

She laughs at him as she begins her first stitch.

“All your fine manners, education, background, stripped away in a blink of an eye. Fueled with the terror of becoming prey, how fast we become predators".

Coriolanus lets out a shaky breath as the adrenaline dies down and the needle stitches him together.

“Who would have thought that one day Crassus Snow’s boy would be fighting for his life in the area over a girl?”, he feels her stop stitching while she waits for the answer to her next question, “That's why you did it no? It wasn’t until news of her involvement that you volunteered. Or did you still wish to proceed with the guise of friendship?”

“Sejanus is not my friend”, Coriolanus declares.

Her needle work began again, pleased with his answer.

“You want to protect y/n, Mr Snow? Then it’s essential that you accept what human beings are, and what it takes to control them”.

He feels her knot the thread into his skin

“So I’ll ask you again, when you beat that boy to death with a club, how did it feel?”.

“It felt”, Coriolanus breathed, wondering if he should give the honest answer. Deciding he had nothing to lose from it, he answers.

“It felt powerful”.

“Answer this next one honestly and you won’t have to walk home”, Dr Gaul teases, “Were you hoping that Sejanus died tonight?”

“Yes”, Coriolanus croaks. His own tears welling in his eyes. He refuses to let any more than two fall, which are wiped away harshly.

“How did it feel to have her life in your hands tonight?”, Dr Gaul pushes.

Coriolanus nods, unable to form words.

A hand is placed on his good shoulder. She squeezes to let him know the sincerity of her words.

“People will do anything to survive, Mr Snow. It doesn’t matter how miserable of an existence it is”.

Coriolanus thinks to his bare apartment, and cinder block bed. It was true, and he was living proof.

Survival meant hope.

He closes his eyes, feeling more tears forming and remembers how malleable you were tonight. You trusted him wholly with your survival, and with that came power over you.

Lucy-Gray was the same. Tonight you showed him the same loyalty, and respect that you had denied him previously.

Lucy-Gray had tried to kiss him, and you melded your body to him when you could. He was sure if you were alone, you would have kissed him for saving your life.

If only he could trap you as easily as Lucy-gray. Keep you in a state of panic that rendered you totally dependent on him.

He lets out a low, breathy laugh, remembering Dean Highbottoms words.

Maybe the old man could see more than Coriolanus would like.

Despite the pain in his shoulder and his little sleep, Coriolanus arrived back at the auditorium bright and early.

Lucy-Gray was still alive. He could see her sleeping against a pole next to Jessup.

The dead tribute was noticed, but soon forgotten. Only Lysistrata pushed to know more, but she too dropped the subject as the tributes began to wake and fight.

There were ten tributes left. Not an impossible task for Lucy-Gray to outlive them all.

He kept careful watch of the screens. While the rest of the mentors took lunch, and socialized, Coriolanus sat with his head in his hand, hoping for a split second of screen time that told him Lucy-Gray was okay.

“Coriolanus!”. Your voice shocked him as it appeared.

He stood to greet you. It was a welcomed but unexpected visit. The games were announced a public holiday, you had no obligation to be at school.

He would have thought after last night that you would be glued to Sejanus’s side. Was this the beginning of the end?

“Y/n, what are you doing here?”, he questioned.

In the daylight he could see a bruise on your temple from when toppled into the wall, under Sejanus. He reaches out to run his finger across the black spot, and you hit his hand away.

“What are you doing here?”, you push back with a hard tone “I went to your house to check on you, but Tigres said you were here?”.

Coriolanus felt his body twitch at your words. You went to his run down apartment? How much did you see? Surely, Tigres shielded his shame. Your eyes didn’t carry pity, maybe you didn’t know.

“Don’t you ever go to my apartment without my permission again”, he scolded.

That was close. Too close. He was days from getting the plinth prize. Days from burying his decade long shame.

You seemed drawn back at his harsh tone. He had never spoken to you unkindly before.

In an effort to ease the mood once more, before you left, he threw his hands up as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“My Grandmother has severe social anxiety. We can’t have unexpected visitors”, he lies with a soft and airy tone.

“Oh, I am sorry. I didn’t know”, you offer.

Coriolanus tuts, bringing his hand up once more to brush the hair off your bruise.

“You shouldn’t have been in there”, he complains.

The bruise looked painful. He was sure it would cause you a headache. You should be resting with ice upon it, not here talking to him.

“No one should be in there”, you return.

His hand is pushed away again, but he attributes it being too soft to touch, rather than disdain for him touching you.

"Thank you for checking on me”, he says.

“You shouldn’t be here, Coriolanus. Not after last night”.

“Lucy-Gray needs me”, he observes.

Your eyes flick to the screen behind him, before back to Coriolanus’s eyes and nod in agreement.

“Sejanus is in the hospital. They have him on morphline. His knee will never work fully, but he is alive and that's because of you”, you proclaim, “Lucy-Gray is fortunate to have you looking out for her. We all are”.

His heart flutters. ‘We all are’, yes! Yes! You were lucky to have him looking out for you. Have you finally come to appreciate all he does for you?

He smiles down at you. If his shoulder didn’t ache, he would have reached out for you.

“If there’s anything I can do”, you offer.

“There is!” He responds too quickly.

He clears his throat, trying to conceal his eagerness.

“There is”, repeats more even toned, “You could stay. I could use the support”.

You looked unsure of the request, but he had saved your life just hours prior, so you felt an obligation to do as he asked.

“Sure, Coriolanus”, you finally say, although you still looked unsure, “I can stay for a little bit”.

He could barely breathe. The “great” he manages to get out is hardly above a whisper.

He leads you to the front bench just in front of the first row of mentor chairs.

You sit obediently and he takes his new seat in front of you.

The tributes have become more lively. Coral was on the hunt for Lucy-Gray trying to convince one of her group members to go down and flush her out.

None would so they go back to making traps to catch Reaper.

Coriolanus reaches his hand back to you, trying to see how far his luck would take him.

You do take his hand into your own, but only for the time it took to give him three encouraging pats to the back of his hand.

It was close enough. Leaving Coriolanus with a feeling of satisfaction.

The feeling stayed for less than a second. His good mood disappeared when the camera flew back to Lucy-Gray underground.

Jessup was getting agitated. Yelling at Lucy-Gray and twitching uncontrollably.

“What’s he doing?”Coriolanus jumps out of his chair and moves closer to the screens.

“They’re friends. He wouldn’t hurt her”, you comment, coming up beside him.

“Somethings wrong”, Lysistrata agrees, “He wouldn’t turn on her like this”.

Lucy-Gray makes a mad dash away which only further angers Jessup, determined that he had done something.

Coriolanus watches in panic. Lucy-gray couldn't defend herself. She would never hurt Jessup, even in his mad state.

“Go to the stands, go to the stands!”, he directs.

Lucy-gray does go to the stands, climbing up as fast as she could but Jessup was determined to catch her.

Coriolanus couldn’t watch. He turns and paces, trying to figure out a way to save Lucy-Gray.

It couldn’t be over. You had only just come around, he needed more time.

The camera zooms in on Jessup allowing full view of the white form dripping down his lips.

‘Wait, look”, he tells you.

Your hand balls at your mouth. He hated to see you so frightened yet again.

As soon as this was all over, he would ensure nothing would ever worry you again.

“I think it rabies," he announces.

He could have danced. There was a way out of this mess. The game wasn’t over yet.

“That bite from the train”, Lysistrata deducts.

“Send him water”. He demands of Lysistrata.

“What? No”, she denines.

He leans across her desk so she is forced to look at him. He was half tempted to just take control of her computer himself.

“You remember the posters from the war. Rabies. It makes you scared of water. Send him a drone”, he demanded.

“That’ll scare him”.

He knew Livy had come to care for Jessup

“Yes” Coriolanus agrees in a hard tone, “away from her”.

Lysistrata still looked in denial. There was no other option, both their tributes didn’t have to die.

“Jessup is done”, he says with haste, “Livy, you’re the only one that can get it right to him”.

Coming to grips with reality, Livy does as she is told, sending a water drone in the direction of Jessup.

“Thank you”, Coriolanus feels better watching the drone fly in.

“Nothing to be proud of”, Livy mutters.

As planned, the drone smashes into him just as he reaches Lucy-gray.

He hears you gasp as Jessup falls to his death and hits the bottom with a heavy thud.

He turns to see you still with your hand pressed tightly against your mouth, and eyes squeezed shut.

The sight makes him feel horrible that he had asked you to stay.

You were on the side of his sore shoulder so he had to reach across with his good hand to touch you.

“Coryo”, Livy called as Carol’s group came out of hiding.

The hand on you balls watching as Corals group surrounds Lucy-gray.

“Oh no”, he complains.

He needed to make a distraction, so she could run and hide. He couldn’t just stand and watch. But the only thing he could do was send food and water in on badly operated drones.

The same badly operated drones that just took Jessup out.

He reaches for his communipad, and selects as many bottles of water as it would let him.

He didn’t need to kill the group. Only give Lucy-Gray a chance to get away

The drones go flying in. He hoped Lucy-Gray wouldn’t give the surprise away, but she managed to keep her cool until it was time to duck.

“Hey! You can’t attack the tributes” a fellow mentor complained.

“I am just sending water”, Coriolanus jeered.

He could hear your chuckle of approval behind him. You reach out to his good shoulder and murmur in his ear.

“Good work”, you encouraged.

He wished he could have stayed in the moment but it wasn’t over yet. Lucy-gray disappears into the dust, taking with her a bottle of water.

She hides in the shelter of the ruin and he can faintly see her take something from her dress pocket.

No there, he wanted to say. What if someone saw her poison the water and he was disquailified.

He looks around the room to check no one else is noticing. All eyes seemed to be on the group turning against Lamina.

Lucy-Gray ducks back out with the water, placing it back on the ground before emptying the others collected. It wasn’t a bad idea.

Lamina's death stopped the clock and the attention was once more turned back to Lucy-gray.

“Go” you mutter, flicking your hands out as if she could see.

Lucy-Gray takes off with Coral and her group chasing her back up the stands. She finds an air duct and dives to close it in time.

Coral catches it before it fully closes and it begins a tug of war against the two.

“No, No”, you complain.

He wanted to shield your eyes from the screen. With every inch Coral got, Lucy-Gray found the strength to tug it back.

When it finally closes, sealing Lucy-gray in safety, Coriolanus lets out a sigh of relief.

“She’s Okay” he says to you.

Coral takes out another tribute over a squabble over the water, and Dill drinks the poisoned water.

So that was three dead tributes in less than 20 minutes. With this pace Coriolanus would be announced winner before the night ended.

He sat you back down on your seat, and retook his in front of you. Your fingers cling to the bench underneath you, and your posture is tight and unnatural.

He expects you to leave him, but you remain watching as Reaper collects the fallen tributes into a neat line and draps the Panam flag over him.

“Are you going to punish me now?” reaper yells to the cameras.

He begins to scream again but his words are cut off by a broadcast from Dr Gaul.

“Capitol Citizens, I’m afraid I must interrupt our games to announce a tragic loss. Fleix Ravienstill, son of our beloved president, has this morning succumbed to his injuries sustained in the rebel bombing.Out there, in the districts, they will be celebrating this young boys death. I will not allow my games to give our enemies such a victory. I swear to you here and now, before the sun goes down tonight, a rainbow of destruction will engulf our arena. Even if it means there’s to be no victor in these games”.

The broadcast ends, and the tributes go back on screen.

“What?” you spit, “What does she mean no victor? That's not fair. She can't do that”.

You rise from your outrage, ranting to Coriolanus. Your anxiety has been taken over by your anger. Coriolanus agreed it was not fair. All his hard work gone down the drain because of the death of Felix, who was never going to amount to anything anyway.

A rainbow of destruction. The snakes. There was no way he could protect lucy-Gray from them.

He would need something with her scent. Could he get the string of her guitar that she played in the interviews? He didn’t even know where it was. By the time he found it, the Games were sure to be over.

Maybe, he could go to the zoo. Toss as many things as he could into the snake pit and hope one of them was hers? It might mean the survival of everyone but her too.

The zoo, he remembers. He digs into his breast pocket to pull out the handkerchief he used to wipe her tears away. If the sweat of his palm can keep him safe against the snakes, then surely her fresh tears dried on the handkerchief could.

He had to get it to the lab before it was too late.

He grabs your forearms and turns you away from the screen to him so he had your full attention.

“Stay here, okay. I’ll be right back”. He commands.

“Where are you going?”, you ask astounded that he could be leaving after such news.

“Just stay here. Don’t move”, he reiterated.

You nod sensing his urgency and he dashes out of the auditorium into the empty hallway.

He knew he couldn’t walk into Dr Guals lab without a reason, and begging for Lucy-Grays life wasn’t a good one.

As he jogs down the steps, he claws at the stitches in his back, reopening the wound.

He groans from the pain but ensures all eight stitches have torn open.

His body is weak as he sprints to Dr gauls lab. It barely gets him through the front door, where he demands to see Dr gaul.

As if she was expecting him, the Peacekeeper lets him directly through.

“Come to beg for her life?” Dr gaul asks uninterested.

“No” Coriolanus puffs, “No, my stitches. They came loose. I didn’t want the doctors asking questions”.

She looks at him suspiciously but relents, going to her work table.

“Come, pull down your shirt”, she directs.

He walks past a row of black birds locked in cages. Her newest toys.

“The news must have shocked you Mr Snow. With no tributes, no victor, with no victor, no girl”.

Coriolanus faces the birds as Dr Gaul stitches the needle into his shoulder. He eyes the large snake tank in the corner and the people who ready it for transport.

“Y/n’s actually at the auditorium. She came to support me. She’s the one who noticed the stitches”, Coriolanus lies.

“Support you and not her boyfriend in hospital? Things are looking promising”, she says.

"Looking promising, looking promising” her voice echoes across the room. Seemingly from the mouth of the birds.

She sighs and stops stitching to click a receiver.

“Jabberjays”, she explained, “We sent them out during the war to pick up rebel conversations. A failed experiment. They only pick up useless phrases unless manually operated. I am collecting them to see what better purpose they serve”.

Coriolanus remains quiet trying to figure out how he could reach the cage before it was too late.

The needle knots in his back, a feeling Coriolanus had come to know to mean that the stitching was done.

“I’ll see you and your girl back in the auditorium for the finale, Mr Snow”, Dr Gaul dismisses, “you should be proud of yourself. Your songbird put on a wonderful show, and you didn’t need money to steal the girl after all”.

Coriolanus quickly buttons up his shirt, watching as the cage was wheeled out.

“Thank you, Dr Gaul”, he says.

He races to catch up to the assistants wheeling the cage, pretending to be following them out.

They don’t see him as a threat so pay him no mind. He falls back as they take a hallway just off the exit, and watches as they leave the cage out for an airlift.

He stays hidden behind a pole until it was time. Leaving his jacket to keep the door wedged open. With their back turned, he dashes out to cage. The snakes are upset when he slams into the large cage, beginning to move and fight with each other.

He finds an air hole large enough and stuffs the handkerchief in. it moves along the bodies of the snakes until Coriolanus could no longer see the white in between the rainbow.

When the harness is lowered, Coriolanus makes a run back to the door, taking his jacket and making his own exit from the Citadel.

He pays for the taxi this time. Sure that his body couldn’t take anymore strain.

It cost him his fathers watch, but he arrived back in the auditorium before the entrance of the snakes.

“What happened?” he quizzes you, taking a hold of your arm, “Lucy-gray is she okay?”.

You point to the screen where Coral and Treech poke and prod a vent.

“She’s in there”, you address with horror in your voice.

Treech points up and Coral takes his palace directly under the vent.

Blocking the camera, Treech begins to sway of balance and nose begins leek small amounts of blood.

“Wait, what's wrong with Treech?” his mentor asks.

Corilanious was worried about his own tribute, who was three lucky strikes away from being impaled.

Coral hits the metal too many times and the vent collapses on top of her.

Coriolanus' hand latches out to yours, which you accept with the same nervous tension in your fingers.

“Run, run” Coriolanus begs.

She runs back into the arena. Not the safest place with reaper still sitting by the dead tributes.

Coral chases after her, too slow to catch up.

The whole arena stops when the chopper lowers in the cage.

“Please work”, Coriolanus whispers.

“What is that?” you ask.

“Wouldn’t it be fun if it was candy?” Lucy Flickerman answers you.

Coriolanus feels your hand tense in his, then open in surprise when the glass cage cracks and the snakes fly out.

“Not candy!” Lucky Flickerman announces as three tributes are overtaken in rainbow.

The Snakes chase the last two tribute who head to the stands for higher ground.

“Lucy-Gray, please” Coral begs. The snakes lash at her heels as she tries to drag herself up the stands, “Please it couldn’t have all be for nothing”.

It was. More snakes latch on and Coral dies with two loud screams.

“Now all colors lead to Gray” Lucy Flickerman narrates.

The snakes slither up and around Lucy-Gray but none bite her.

Coriolanus lets out an unbelievable scoff.

‘She’s..She’s won” he says watching as the snakes continue to follow Lucy-Gray. He had won. The 10th annual victor. She was last standing, even Dean Highbottom couldn’t contest his win.

“It’a over. She won”, he says in a louder voice. Why was no one doing anything to stop the snakes, “Let her out!”

“Afraid that’s not your call to make, mr Snow”, Lucky insists.

He turns to the audience. Dr Gaul had come to see the final show. She sat high up in the breeches and must of come in when Coriolanus was distracted.

He drops your hand so he could turn and face her. She stared back with the same hateful and curious gaze. She knew what he had done.

But if she squealed on him, he would return the favor.

Your hands fly up to your face once more when Lucy-gray begins to sing. Tears pour from your eyes watching the young girl sing her last song.

Looking to get away from the camera that played on your pain, you pushed your way to the back.

“Dr gaul. She’s won”, Coriolanus yells, “It’s over let her out”.

“Why aren’t they attacking her?” Festus asks.

Dr Gual raises her eyebrows at him in a mocking fashion.

“It must be the signing. It’s calming them”, he deceives.

“She can’t sing forever”, Festus comments bitterly.

She just needs to sing long enough for Coriolanus to figure out a way to get her out.

“Dr Gaul, please”, Coriolanus tries, “Get her out”.

He could see the audience engrossed in the scene. He just needed to figure out how to turn it against Dr Gaul.

“Get her out!”, you yell across the room, following Coriolanus stare to Dr gaul.

Her eyes flick to you and you scream at her once more to release Lucy-gray.

Others join, chanting in protest.

“Who will watch the games if there is no victor?” he threatens.

Dr Gaul raises her hand to silence the audience, before turning to her assistant.

“Get her out”, she says loud enough for everyone to hear.

A cheer erupts the auditorium and Dr gaul wades herself through it to the silence of the hallway.

“She’s won! Lucy-Gray! Coriolanus Snow is the winner of the tenth annual Hunger games!” Lucky announces.

People rush from the stands to swarm him. Offering him congratulations and applause.

It all felt real now. He had done it. The plinth prize, you, were all his now.

He pushes to the crowd to get to where you stood in front of the bleaches.

You were smiling and clapping. He wasn’t sure if it was entirely for him, or if you were just glad Lucy-gray would live.

You looked beautiful and for once Sejanus was nowhere by your side. In this moment, you were entirely his.

You treated you as such, taking your face between his hands and stilling you for a kiss.

His lips smashed against you, his teeth nipped at the skin of your bottom lip asking you to part them for him.

You don’t pull away at first, but his lips are on you for less than ten seconds before you are shoving against his sore shoulder.

He is forced to drop his hand upon the impact. His shoulder ached from pain of being moved, and on reflux he lowered his arm to ease it.

Coriolanus could tell by the look on your face, you did not enjoy the kiss. Did he come on too strong? Did he accidently hit your bruise when he kissed you?

He opened his mouth to apologize for the above, but you took off before he could catch you.

It was impossible to follow you through the crowd of people. People would not part to let him through.

Some jeered at him for being pushed away but most still rode his victory wave.

Had he made a mistake? Where you not ready to leave Sejanus for him yet?

You had no right to reject him. He had won. Saved your life. Risked his own.

Coriolanus took a seat while the crowd surrounded him, and then disappeared. He stayed there until he was summoned by a peacekeeper much later.

He figured he was to see his victor before they sent her back home. The Peacekeeper led him to a chamber, but Lucy-Gray was nowhere to be seen.

“Lucy-Gray?” he called, “Lucy-Gray?”.

He sees a table in the middle of the room with his fathers handkerchief and his mother compact.

“To think, Mr Snow, you almost had it all” Dean Highbottom's voice taunts him.

“Where’s Lucy-Gray?”Coriolanus demanded. Had they hurt her for Coriolanus’s mistake?

“I would be more worried about yourself” Highbottom answered, stalking towards him.

“First y/n rejects you and now the prize money slips through your fingers”, Highbottom torments, “it’s fitting that both your parents could be here for your big moment”.

He gestures to the items on the table in front of Coriolanus.

“That compact, how many times did I see your mother use it? Come now, we both know that child from eleven didn’t die of disease. And that old handkerchief, we found it in the snake tank, condemning you with your fathers own initials”.

Highbottom rounds Coriolanus completely before standing in front of Coriolanus across the table.

“President Ravenstill has left your form of punishment up to me, and I’ve decided banishment to the districts where you’ll serve your Capitol in exile for the next twenty years as an anonymous, peacekeeping grunt”.

Dean Highbottom grins at Coriolanus who felt too frozen to do anything.

“You’ll never get your hands on y/n. She’s too good for you Mr Snow. By the time you get back I imagine her and Sejanus will be married with three or four children”.

It was true. Coriolanus wouldn’t be able to block the ongoing turn of events that was sure to happen with Sejanus. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t how things were supposed to go. He had worked so hard to have you, only to be taken away as soon as he got on equal footing with Sejanus.

“You hear that boy? That’s the sound of snow failing”, Highbottom proclaims.

He’ll be left with nothing more than a memory of you, while you will forget completely of the man who loved you so.

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #commander snow #dead dove do not eat

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gakukitty · 2 months ago

Text

— PRE RELATIONSHIP SHENANIGANS x sakadays

summary . “so , how did the two of you fall in love ?” some random person questions. you ponder for a moment, mind drifting off to a place.. where these memories resurface and make a small little smile appear on your lips.

wc . 0.7k

cw . nothing to be warned abojt i think !!!!! gn! reader THE CHATACGERS AREEE : gaku , nagumo yoichi , shin asakura , heisuke mashimo , kei uzuki , natsuki seba , shishiba

note : i wrote these rlly late at night so sorry for any mistakes!! :3

masterlist ౨ৎ

pre relationship! gaku who ran into you one day in a games shop. you were browsing through a few games, sights set on this one specific object— a new game that everyone’s been hyping up lately— only for a larger hand to snatch it away before you can even touch it. he looks back at you, noticing your dejected expression. pre relationship! gaku stays quiet for a few moments, before hesitantly hold on the game out to you. he’ll just wait for a restock.

pre relationship! nagumo who noticed you one day at the park— you used to go to the JCC, he recalls. the man wastes no time sliding to sit beside you on the bench, an arm draped around the back of it. “been a while, huh?” he muses, flashing you a smile that you used to see all those years ago. “so, what have you been up to?” pre relationship! nagumo questions, shifting closer to you. he’s always been like that— but it feels different this time.

pre relationship! shin first met you when you burst into the store, panting softly and looking around frantically. at the start, he just figured you were some type of assassin looking for mr. Sakamoto; but after reading your mind, he just realised you were in desperate need of… “chocolate!” you exclaim, tone urgent. yes, that’s it. you’ve been craving chocolate for the past week and after walking past a nice-looking store, you couldn’t hold it back anymore. pre relationship! shin was a little confused, but after you dropped by over the new few weeks he got used to it.

pre relationship! heisuke who first noticed you talking to Lu. your eyes met with his, and for a moment pre relationship! heisuke felt the world stop. until a thud is heard, and shin states back at you in surprise. pre relationship! heisuke doesnt get it— what was al thst about? oh, maybe you were thinking something crazy! either way, the man pays no mind to it. until you come to the store again, walking over to him and smiling. he just nods stiffly when you ask if Lu’s here, a hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly as you depart. why’s shin staring at you like you’ve grown an extra head? has pre relationship! heisuke missed something?!

pre relationship! uzuki was a bit confused when he felt someone crash right into his back. it’s rare that something like that happens— yet he still stays cool, simply glancing over his shoulder. you scramble backwards, blinking back at the rather intimidating man in front of you. he’s handsome— very handsome. “do you need something?” he’d question, and you’re quick to shake your head. befote pausing, lips parting; this is kind of the perfect opportunity for you. “well, actually..”

pre relationship! natsuki has seen you around a few times. you’ve talked once or twice; but never enough for the two of you to actually be called friends or acquaintances. so, he’s naturally got just a few questions when you come to him, begging pre relationship! natsuki to fix your weapon. he pushes those inquiries aside, only nodding slightly as you hand over the battered object. over time, pre relationship! natsuki starts to realise that you are terrible at keeping your weapons in shape, even with his skills. he’s starting to wonder how you even manage it.

pre relationship! shishiba met you at a shoe store. an unexpected place, sure; but the man was in need of new shoes. he stepped inside of the shop, glancing around— and that’s when his gaze landed on you. are you.. struggling with shoelaces? he just scoffs, walking past you. pre relationship! shishiba already knows the exact pair that he wants. but when he hears a voice from behind him, he’s a little surprised when he realises it’s you. the person who can’t do their shoelaces. “help you with your shoelaces…?” he sighs. well, his mission is over anyways; a few minutes won’t cause too much trouble for him, right?

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justarkive · 2 months ago

Text

TABLE 3 | JJK ch12

“For good service, and cute waitresses.”

pairing: pre!military jk x waitress/secret fuckbuddy!oc

warnings: SMUT, profanity, angst, humour, fluff, celebrity au, idol!jungkook , mentions of other kpop groups/idols, inner conflict, insecurity. Jungkook is such a TEASE. Mr lee is in this chapter LMFAO. (thats lowkey my second man)

smut warnings: they fuck in his dressing room pre concert LOL, wall fucking, nipple play, breast play, clit play, someone knocks on the door and he just keeps going, oral f and m receiving, missionary, strength kink, uhh idk yall but its nasty

wc: LONG

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: @jenniebyrubies @dreamersparacosm @darklove2020 @rayyrayy10 @elinaki92 @alana4610 @aznstoner

a/n: i am so sorry for takiny so long to release this chapter, im actually super happy w this. dince im not the best at writing sexually explicit details, i decided to focus more on the emotional tone during the smut. what are ur guys predictions to what happens next?? as always tysm for reading ILY

masterlist , <prev | next>

The day of the concert is finally here.

Five days have passed in a blur—slow when you were staring at your phone, waiting for a reply, and too fast when you realized how little time you actually had to process everything. Jungkook had been busy, that much was clear. You hadn’t seen him once since that night at the field, busy with dance practices, stage rehearsals, but it wasn’t like he had disappeared. If anything, he’d made his presence known in the way he always did—through little things.

A message in the morning, simple but warm. “Good morning. Excited?”

A random voice note in the afternoon, his voice slightly breathless, a little out of focus, as if he was speaking between rehearsal breaks. “Almost tripped on a speaker just now. Imagine if I just fell flat on my face mid-performance.Would you still cheer for me?”

A call late at night, just as your eyes were starting to shut, his voice softer in the dark. “You’re coming, right? You better be. No refunds.”

He hadn’t said much about the concert itself, just that he’d handle everything. And he had—down to the hotel room he booked for you and Nari, which, in her words, was “some straight-up billionaire sugar daddy behavior.” You weren’t sure what to make of it. It was just Jungkook being Jungkook—thoughtful, a little extra, and completely unaware of how easy he made it for you to get used to this.

And maybe that was the dangerous part.

The hotel room is extravagant in a way that almost feels comical—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, sleek marble countertops, and a chandelier so obnoxiously large that Nari had dramatically gasped upon entering, claiming she had ascended into her “rich bitch era” overnight.

“Y/N.” Nari’s voice cuts through the room, sharp and brimming with excitement as she turns to you, hands on her hips. “This man. Booked you. A fucking penthouse. A PENTHOUSE.”

You glance up from where you’re sitting on the plush bed, slipping on your sneakers. “Nari, he booked us a room.”

“For what? For vibes? It’s only a little closer to the venue than your place. He just wants to spoil you,” she declares, plopping onto the bed beside you. “Like, for real. I would kill for my man to treat me like this.”

“He’s not my man,” you mumble, fixing the hem of your simple yet stylish outfit. The two of you had agreed on something lowkey—nothing too flashy, just enough to blend in with the crowd.

“Yet.” Nari smirks.

You glare at her. “Shut up.”

She grins, but surprisingly, she doesn’t push further. Instead, she busies herself with checking her makeup in the massive vanity mirror, adding a final touch of highlighter. The hotel room smells faintly of expensive cologne—probably lingering from the last guest—and something floral from the scented candles Nari had insisted on lighting “for the aesthetic.”

Your phone buzzes beside you.

Jungkook [7:42 PM]: u on your way yet?

Jungkook [7:42 PM]: I mean, I know you are, but just pretend I don’t have security watching the hotel entrance.

You [7:43 PM]: ?? stalker behavior.

Jungkook [7:43 PM]: and.

Rolling your eyes, you grab your bag and nudge Nari. “Time to go.”

The Uber ride to the venue is mostly filled with Nari hyping herself up while you stare out the window, watching as the streets become more crowded the closer you get. The realization fully settles in when the car slows down near the venue—thousands of people are gathered outside, their excited energy buzzing in the air.

It’s overwhelming. The sheer amount of love people have for him.

They only know him from what they see on screens, from music videos and interviews, from performances and social media snippets. They don’t know the way his voice softens when he’s tired, or the way he pouts slightly when he concentrates, or the way he texts you at the most random hours with pictures of his dog.

Your phone buzzes again.

Jungkook [8:02 PM]: Is there some guy there with slicked-back hair, a suit on, looking kinda hot like me?

You [8:02 PM]: Shut up. Who?

Jungkook [8:02 PM]: Talk to him. Tell him your name.

Jungkook [8:02 PM]: He’ll take you backstage.

You [8:03 PM]: WHERE WHAT I DONT SEE ANYONE

Jungkook [8:03 PM]: Gotta go. Have fun finding him.

“…He’s such an idiot,” you mutter, staring at the texts in disbelief.

Nari leans over, reading them over your shoulder. “Girl. We have to go find this dude now? In this crowd?”

“We don’t have a choice.”

It takes longer than you’d like, but after some awkward glances and frantic searching, you finally spot what you think is him—a tall, intimidating-looking man standing near the barricades, scanning the crowd like he’s waiting for someone.

Nari nudges you forward. “Go.”

You clear your throat, stepping closer. “Um. Hi. Uh—are you here for—um, Jungkook told me to—um—”

The man simply nods. “Come with me.”

You exchange a quick look with Nari before following him, trying to keep a low profile. It seems to work—most people probably assume you’re just being led to the restroom or something. But the moment you step past security barriers, through a side entrance, and down a hallway leading to the backstage area, the reality of it all settles in.

The dressing rooms are bustling with movement—stylists darting back and forth, crew members making last-minute preparations. The air is thick with the scent of hairspray and cologne, the sounds of muffled voices and distant music vibrating through the walls.

Nari, completely unfazed, immediately starts taking selfies in front of the vanity lights. “This lighting is insane. Oh my God.”

You barely have time to take in your surroundings before—

“No pictures in here.”

The voice is unfamiliar, deep and authoritative, sending a jolt of panic through you. You and Nari freeze, phones halfway raised.

Then you turn around—

Jungkook.

Standing there. Shirtless. Bare face. Hair still slightly messy, damp from whatever pre-show routine he had just finished.

He grins. “Gotcha.”

“Oh my God,” you exhale, pressing a hand to your chest. “What the fuck—”

Nari looks equally as stunned, though for different reasons. “Jungkook, you cannot sneak up on people like that when you look like—like that.”

He chuckles, eyes crinkling. Then, without a second thought, he steps forward and pulls you into a hug.

You stiffen, momentarily surprised. But by now, it’s almost second nature—the way he holds you, warm and firm, the scent of his body wash lingering on his skin.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice close to your ear.

You nod, swallowing. “Yeah. This is just… crazy.”

“I know. celebrity shit, right?” He pulls back slightly, smirking down at you.

You shove his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

Meanwhile, Nari has fully recovered and is now scanning the room like a predator. “Jungkook. Are you alone?”

He blinks. “Uh… yeah?”

“Are any of the other members here?”

He gives her a blank look. “Nari. This is my solo tour.”

Nari sighs dramatically. “Damn. So no Kim Namjoon.”

Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. Then, as if remembering something, he suddenly points toward one of the stylists in the room—a tall, ridiculously attractive man adjusting a set of brushes on a table. “Hey, he’s single.”

Nari turns. Takes one look. Then confidently strides over and plops herself down beside the stylist.

The guy stiffens. Looks at her. Looks at Jungkook. Looks back at her.

Jungkook leans closer to you, grinning. “That dude is so scared right now.”

You sigh, shaking your head fondly. “She’s a menace.”

“And you love her for it.”

You glance up at him—his hair still damp, his skin glowing under the vanity lights, his eyes soft as he looks at you.

You swallow. “Yeah. I do.”

Jungkook hums, gaze flickering over your face. “Good.”

“You’re actually here,” Jungkook says, a grin already tugging at his lips. His voice is warm, familiar, and just a little breathless—like he can’t believe it himself. He takes a step closer, tilting his head as he studies your face. “I missed you.”

Your heart stumbles over itself. It’s not even what he said, it’s how he said it—so casually, like it was just a fact. Like he didn’t just drop it in the middle of a crowded dressing room, with stylists and staff bustling around, adjusting outfits, checking schedules, calling out times. But all of it fades because Jungkook is looking at you like you’re the only person in the room.

You swallow. “I—” You’re aware of the way your face heats up, how your voice wavers when you finally say, “I missed you too.”

Jungkook grins, and there’s something dangerous about it—something mischievous and knowing, like he was waiting for you to say it. Before you can even think about what that means, his fingers curl around your wrist, and suddenly, you’re being tugged forward. “Come,”

“What—wait—” You stumble after him, glancing back at Nari, who is very much not paying attention, currently perched next to the stylist Jungkook had called single earlier, chatting him up with all the confidence in the world.

“She looks preoccupied,” Jungkook muses, not even slowing down.

You barely get the chance to react before you’re being pulled past the chaos of the main dressing area, down a quieter hallway, and into another room. This one is different. It’s calmer, quieter, the sounds of the outside world muffled behind thick walls. The air is cooler here, tinged with expensive cologne and faint traces of fabric softener.

Your eyes sweep over the room, taking in the space that clearly belongs to him. The lighting is softer, casting everything in a warm glow. A sleek vanity takes up most of the wall, lined with makeup and hair products, but what catches your attention is the small golden plaque sitting at the edge of the mirror. Jeon Jungkook. His name, perfectly engraved, like it belongs here. Because, of course, it does.

To the side, a rack of outfits stands perfectly arranged—different variations of black, shimmering details, all expensive and carefully selected. A pair of stage shoes sit neatly beneath them. The entire space is neat but lived-in, touched by him in ways only someone who knows him would recognize.

You exhale softly, still turning, still taking it all in. “This is… a lot.”

Jungkook watches you with an amused glint in his eyes, arms folding over his chest. “Starstruck?”

You shoot him a look. “By you? Never. This? Yes.”

He grins. “Liar.”

The moment is interrupted when a woman with a sleek black bob and an air of effortless efficiency strides into the room, already pulling on a pair of latex gloves. “Jungkook, you need to start getting ready,” she announces, barely sparing you a glance as she sets down her kit beside the vanity.

Jungkook nods and moves to sit in the chair, spinning once before settling. You linger by the doorway, suddenly feeling a little out of place. The stylist doesn’t say anything about you being here—doesn’t even look at you twice—which somehow makes you more self-conscious. You shift on your feet, unsure of what to do, until Jungkook pats the empty chair beside him.

“Come sit,” he says easily.

You hesitate, glancing at the stylist, silently asking for some kind of approval. She doesn’t even look up from where she’s sorting through foundation bottles, just waves a hand dismissively. “As long as you don’t mess up his face, I don’t care.”

That’s… reassuring?

Slowly, you move to sit, feeling oddly formal in the cushy chair beside him. Up close, you can see just how tired he looks—the faint shadows under his eyes, the way he leans back into the chair like he hasn’t had a moment to just breathe all day.

“Long day?” you ask.

Jungkook exhales a laugh through his nose, eyes closing briefly as the stylist tilts his head to start on his base makeup. “You have no idea.”

You smile, arms folding in your lap. “Yeah? Try working a diner shift where a group of middle-aged businessmen keeps asking your friend for her number and writing thirsty notes on napkins.”

Jungkook’s eyes snap open, eyebrows raising. “What?”

You nod solemnly. “I had to physically pry one from Nari’s hands because she was about to read it out loud in front of everyone.”

He laughs, head tilting as the stylist tuts and pushes it back into place. “I need to hear what they wrote.”

You make a face. “Something about her being sweeter than the whipped cream on their pancakes, and that wasn’t even the worst one.”

Jungkook snorts, covering his mouth. “That’s disgusting.”

“I know,” you say, equally appalled. “But she was thriving. Every single one of them left with a broken heart.”

“Of course she was,” he murmurs, amused.

The stylist hums, leaning in to blend the foundation across his jaw. Jungkook tries to keep still, but he keeps turning his head toward you whenever he talks, forcing her to keep nudging him back into position.

“Stay still,” she says, unimpressed.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. Then, half a second later, “So how many guys are in love with her now?”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “Too many to count. The diner is officially her kingdom.”

Jungkook grins, but it softens after a beat. “And you? No secret admirers?”

You scoff. “No weird napkin notes, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He hums, watching you through the mirror, a little too intently, a little too curious—until the stylist tugs his face back again with an exasperated sigh.

“Jungkook, please.”

The time passes quicker than you expect. Between Jungkook getting prodded and pampered by the stylists, the easy conversation, and the occasional Jungkook, stay still, the whole process feels surprisingly… normal. Like you’ve done this a million times before. Like sitting beside Jungkook in his dressing room while someone does his makeup is just another part of your day.

And then, suddenly, he’s done.

You blink, snapping out of your thoughts as the stylist steps away, satisfied with her work. Jungkook stretches his neck, examining himself in the mirror with a lazy kind of approval. “Nice,” he mutters, rubbing a thumb against his jaw before he suddenly—without warning—reaches for the hem of his shirt you didn’t even realise he’d put on a few minutes ago.

You don’t even have time to process what’s happening before he’s pulling it off.

Your brain short-circuits. He’s shirtless. Again.

The mirror betrays you immediately. You don’t even mean to stare—you don’t—but Jungkook is right there, in clear view, and suddenly there’s a whole lot of bare skin and a whole lot of defined muscle and your brain just shuts down.

This isn’t new. This has happened before. A million times, (twice) even.

You swear you only stare for half a second. Maybe a full second. Maybe a little longer, but that’s hardly the point because when you finally snap out of it and tear your gaze away—heart thudding embarrassingly hard—your eyes flick up to the mirror again and—

Jungkook is looking right at you.

You freeze.

He grins.

“For the millionth time,” he drawls, voice rich with amusement. “See something you like?”

You nearly die on the spot.

“No—” you stammer, cheeks burning, eyes everywhere but him. “I—I was just—the mirror—it’s there—so obviously—”

He laughs, loud and delighted, as he throws on his next outfit: a sleeveless mesh vest hoodie that does nothing to help your situation. If anything, it somehow makes it worse. It clings to his torso, effortlessly stylish, the fabric shifting with every movement. He layers it with a slightly oversized jacket—just casual enough to be cool, just structured enough to make him look even better than he already does. He pairs it with loose-fitting jeans and his signature boots, the entire ensemble looking so effortlessly put together that it’s almost unfair.

You force yourself to look anywhere else, swallowing hard. “You could’ve warned me.”

“Warned you about what?” Jungkook teases, fastening a simple chain around his neck. “Me changing? Thought you were used to it by now.”

You glare, knowing full well that your flushed cheeks are ruining any attempt at feigned indifference. “I was looking at the mirror.”

“Mhm.” He smirks, tilting his head. “And what did the mirror show you?”

You nearly throw something at him.

The two of you settle into an easy quiet as the pre-show chaos hums in the background. There’s nothing left to do but wait. Jungkook stretches out on the couch, one arm slung over the backrest, looking completely at ease despite the impending concert. You, on the other hand, feel like you’re sitting on a time bomb—this entire situation is insane, and yet he’s acting like it’s just another day.

At some point, a staff member brings in food—just a few things Jungkook ordered earlier—and the two of you dig in. It’s nothing too heavy, just something to keep him going before he goes on stage, but the way he pushes a container toward you, all casual and wordless, makes your heart do a weird little thing.

“So,” you say after a few bites, just to fill the silence, “are you nervous?”

Jungkook, mid-chew, raises a brow. He swallows, then grins. “Nope.”

You squint at him. “Not at all?”

“Not at all,” he repeats easily, plucking a fry from the box between you. “It’s fun. The stage, the energy—it’s like…” He trails off for a moment, as if searching for the right word, then just shakes his head. “It’s the best feeling in the world.”

You hum, chewing thoughtfully. “I feel like I’d be terrified. Thousands of people watching your every move?” You shudder dramatically. “One wrong step and boom—memed forever.”

Jungkook barks out a laugh, amused. “That has happened, you know. But I don’t mind now. It’s part of it. Used to freak out about a little mistake but now? They come with it all, it’s inevitable.”

You watch as he picks up his phone, casually opening Twitter like he does this all the time. His expression shifts almost immediately—lips twitching into a fond smile, eyes soft with something warm.

“I always do this before a show,” he says, scrolling through his feed. “I love seeing how excited ARMY gets while they’re waiting.”

He angles the screen toward you, showing a sea of posts—fancams from outside the venue, people in matching outfits, handmade signs, inside jokes only his fans would understand. It’s a flood of love, of uncontainable anticipation, and Jungkook is soaking it all in like it’s his lifeblood.

“Look at the crowd already,” he murmurs, swiping to a video someone posted from the pit. The venue is packed—people chanting, singing, waving their lightsticks even though the show hasn’t started yet. “They’re amazing.”

You glance at him, taking in the way he watches the screen—completely adoring, like he still can’t believe all of this is real. Like it means something to him, deep in his bones.

And suddenly, you get it.

This isn’t just a job to him. This isn’t just a routine. It’s love.

“You’re such a sap,” you say, nudging his foot with yours.

Jungkook grins, eyes twinkling. “Maybe.”

Jungkook stretches, rolling his shoulders back before standing up, the shift in his energy almost instant. His relaxed posture straightens, muscles flexing as he starts moving through warm-up exercises, humming lightly under his breath. You watch as he tests his voice, adjusting his stance, subtly bouncing on the balls of his feet like a boxer before a fight.

Then, almost as quickly as he got up, a staff member peeks in and calls him out for something. Most of the stylists follow, leaving the room feeling noticeably emptier, the only company left being one last stylist who seems far more interested in her sandwich than small talk.

You sit there for a moment, picking at the food in front of you, aimlessly scrolling through your phone. The room feels heavier now—quieter, save for the faint sounds of activity outside. You wonder how long he’ll be gone.

Then, suddenly, the stylist speaks.

“How have you not got caught?” She laughs.

The words are casual, spoken between bites, but they hit like a slap. You blink, looking up, only to find her still chewing, barely sparing you a glance.

“All this shit,” she continues, taking another bite. “Is like… super risky.”

It’s not outright rude, but there’s something about the way she says it—offhanded, like she’s scolding you without really scolding you—that makes your stomach twist.

You part your lips, unsure of what to even say. Do you defend yourself? Do you tell her that this wasn’t your idea? That Jungkook was the one who invited you? That you never asked for any of this?

Even though you really, really don’t wanna stop.

But before you can even muster up a response, she dusts off her hands, bins the rest of her sandwich, and walks out. Just like that.

You exhale, long and slow, suddenly hyper-aware of everything.

She’s not wrong.

It is risky.

Jungkook is Jungkook, an untouchable force with an entire world watching his every move. And you? You’re just… here. Sitting in his private dressing room, eating his food, waiting for him like you belong in this space when—realistically—you don’t.

You know how the internet works. How fast rumors can spread. How easily people can twist things. If someone saw you right now—if a picture leaked—what kind of headlines would come out of it? Because you’re sure it wont be another awkwardly blurry, badly angled photo like last time.

Would this get him in trouble? Would you?

The intrusive thoughts pile up too quickly, drowning you in doubt. By the time Jungkook returns, beaming with two drinks in hand, you’re barely holding it together.

“Look what I got,” he says, passing you one. He’s still a little breathless, his excitement crackling like electricity in the air. “My favorite—”

“Should I leave?”

It comes out of nowhere. The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, your fingers curling tightly around the drink. Jungkook’s smile falters.

“What?”

“I—I should leave,” you repeat, swallowing hard. “What if we get caught? Is— me being here a problem?”

His expression shifts immediately, the warmth in his eyes dimming. His brows furrow, lips parting slightly like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Who said that?”

You hesitate, suddenly wishing you hadn’t said anything at all. “No one, I just—”

“Who.” His voice is sharper this time, more urgent, his entire demeanor changing as he takes a step closer.

You stumble over your words, not knowing how to explain. “It’s just—people talk, Jungkook, and—”

“So..” His jaw tightens. “You think I don’t want you here?” His voice is low, raw with frustration, disbelief, and maybe even a little hurt. It hits you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, it feels like the air between you both is thicker. The weight of it presses down on you, suffocating, almost.

You try to breathe, but it’s like your lungs are fighting against you. He takes a step closer. Your heart stutters.

“Hmm?” His hand comes up slowly, almost deliberately, and it rests on your chin. The grip is firm, but not harsh—secure, like he’s not letting you look away. And just like that, the space between you both feels electrified. The tension grows thick, undeniable.

Your voice falters, caught in your throat. “N-no, I just—”

“Just what?” His voice drips with mockery as he nudges your chin higher, his thumb tracing just under your jaw. “Because I can show you, if you want, how much I want you to be here.”

His words fall heavily between you, your breath catching in your throat. There’s a flash of something—desire, maybe fear—rushing through you. The proximity is almost too much, and yet, you can’t pull away.

You open your mouth to reply, but the words won’t come. The silence stretches, thick and heavy between you. He doesn’t give you the chance to say anything more. Without warning, he closes the distance, his lips crashing against yours.

He doesn’t break the kiss, but his hand shifts, sliding up to gently grip your chin. His fingers are firm, tilting your head back to meet him fully. His touch is deliberate, guiding you closer to him as if he’s in control of the pace, the way your lips part slightly to let him deepen the kiss.

He pulls away, and you can’t help the soft whine that escapes your lips at the loss of his kiss. A smirk curls on his lips as he stands, his gaze holding yours with that same mischievous glint. He locks the door with a quiet click, the sound somehow louder in the charged silence, before striding back to you, his steps confident, almost predatory.

Jungkook approaches you slowly. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath hitches, the weight of it all suddenly crashing down on you. You’re in Jeon Jungkook’s dressing room, and god knows how much time he has before his performance. “W-what? This is insane… someone could hear us…”

Jungkook stands in front of you, his voice low and teasing as his hands settle on your hips. “Can you feel how much I want you?”

You nervously flicker your eyes to his lips, your heart racing. “I… I don’t think this is a good—”

He cuts you off with a chuckle, cupping your face in his hands and gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze. “I want all of you…” His tone softens, but the grip on your waist tightens, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “But if you’re not comfortable doing this here, we don’t have to.”

Suddenly, the thrill of being caught washes over your doubts, and before you can second-guess yourself, you crash your lips back on his. You feel him smirk into the kiss, the heat between you two escalating.

You lose track of time, as if you’ve been kissing him forever—and honestly, you’re not complaining. Every kiss feels intense, your lips teasing his lip piercing, occasionally nibbling it.

You hear him grunt softly against your mouth, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. His hands slip down to your neck, his fingers gripping just tight enough to leave you breathless, urging you closer.

He pulls back just enough, his hand still on your neck, keeping you anchored to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” His eyes don’t leave yours, the intensity of his gaze making your pulse race. Like it always does. Slowly, he undoes his jeans, the sound of the zipper almost deafening in the charged silence between you.

He chuckles softly, struggling a bit to kick his jeans off. His lips are magnets, pulling you in despite the little space between you, and you can’t help but press yourself against the hand still wrapped around your neck. You lean in desperately, hungry for his kiss again.

“Patience, baby,” he murmurs, voice laced with amusement, though his eyes are full of hunger. He kicks his jeans off, and before you can fully process, his lips are on yours again—quicker this time, more urgent. But just as you start to deepen the kiss, he pulls away, leaving you breathless.

Frustration bubbles up inside you, but it’s replaced by a new heat as his hands move down, frantically pawing at the straps of your dress. His fingers tremble, eager, desperate, as if he can’t get it off fast enough.

You help him, giggling, your hands trembling as you slide the dress off, letting it drop to the floor in a heap.

Your fingers move eagerly to his jacket, pulling at the fabric, “Off,” You urge him, while his lips are still on yours. The kiss is frantic now—more breathing than kissing, your breaths mingling between heated sighs.

“Please…” The word escapes you in a soft, desperate whimper, your chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as you tug at his jacket, unwilling to wait any longer.

Jungkook is now shirtless, and so are you, your nipples instantly harden to the cold air from the AC in the room, your bodies pressed together. It’s a bit awkward, in the sense that you’re on your heels, grinding ever so slightly on the bulge of his boxers, but you couldn’t care less.

His hands roam over your skin, hot and so needy, as he kisses his way down your neck. His lips are soft but deliberate, savoring the feel of you, every inch of your skin. You shiver under his touch, throwing your head back and curling your fingers into his scalp, heart racing, the sensation of him against you overwhelming.

He pauses at your collarbone, breathing against your skin, his voice low and husky, “Feel’ so fucking good.”

“F-fuck, please…” You gasp, breath hitching as Jungkook works his way down your body, his lips trailing slowly over your skin, teasing you with each touch. He chuckles softly against your bare skin, sending a shiver down your spine, before he takes his time, sucking gently on each of your nipples, pulling a quiet moan from your lips.

His hands roam, gripping your hips, pulling you closer to him as his mouth leaves a trail of heat across your skin. You feel his smile against you, a smugness in his teasing, but it only makes you crave him more.

Before you can even process it, Jungkook’s on his knees in front of you, his hands sliding down your body to peel off your panties. The sudden shift in position leaves you breathless, his movements deliberate and slow.

He noses at your slit, inhaling deeply, with a lewd, audible swoosh of air, his eyes dark with hunger. You can’t help the way your hips buck slightly at the sensation, the thrill of it all making your heart race.

“Mm, babe,” he groans, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine. “Smell so good…” His breath fans against you as he presses closer, his hands gripping your thighs as he teases you, making you ache for more.

Before you know it, your patience runs thin. Unable to wait any longer, you grab a handful of his hair, guiding his face where you need him most. The moment your fingers tangle in his locks, he doesn’t hesitate—he dives in, licking, sucking, and lapping eagerly at your core. His low chuckle vibrates against you, clearly amused by your desperation.

You can’t help but grind against his face, unfortunately messing up his makeup with your juices which just flow out onto his lips, chin and even his nose, driven by need. His touch is intoxicating, each movement of his tongue sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“Jungkook—” you gasp, his name falling from your lips as you lose yourself in the sensation.

He licks at your pulsing clit, alternating between gently dipping his tongue into your walls and sucking hard, each movement calculated to make you tremble. His pace doesn’t falter, and you can feel the vibrations of his moan against you, sending a rush of heat through your body. The sound, raw and desperate, only fuels the growing fire inside you.

You can barely focus on anything else, lost in the sensation of him, his persistence, and the way his body moves against yours, like he’s trying to memorize every part of you.

“Jungkook…” you whisper, the tension building.

He looks up at you, a knowing smile curling on his lips, before he softly brushes his hands against your skin, his hands gentle on your thighs “Let go,” he murmurs. “It’s just us here.”

You feel something prodding at your entrance, his tongue still not letting up- if anything, hes going much faster now. Licking and slurping like a damn starved man.

If theres anything you know about Jungkook, its that he does not hesitate to go all in when it comes to your pleasure. You’re convinced that he-

“Could eat this pussy for hours, babe” He mumbles into your slick, slushy core. It’s disgusting how much this man has you fucking drenching his pretty face.

And he just let’s it happen.

Like a real ass man.

Before you know it, his finger intrudes in. “Fuck!”

But it’s not just the movement of his finger that has you reeling. It’s the damn silver ring he’s still wearing on his middle finger. The cool metal presses against you with every thrust, the contrast between the chill of the ring and the heat of your body sending waves of sensation through you. Your hips move instinctively, pushing harder into his face, chasing the friction.

And Jungkook? He just fucking laughs into your pussy, like he knew he’d coax that reaction out of you.

He moves his finger slowly at first, deliberately tracing that spot he somehow found so easily. The sensation is almost too much, and your breath catches in your throat as he picks up the pace, each movement deliberate, making you tremble beneath him. Then, without warning, he adds another finger, stretching you further, and you can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips.

“Jungkook- Fuck!”

He doesn’t stop. His rhythm quickens, frantic tongue flicking at your clit and his hold tightening around your thighs.

At this point, you’re lost to it, unable to think, to breathe. The ache in your hips from frantically grinding is overpowered by the sheer pleasure of well- Jungkook. All that’s left is him, the way he moves, the way he makes you feel. It’s too much, and you can’t hold back anymore.

The wave crashes over you before you can even catch your breath. Your body trembles with the release, his name a breathless echo on your lips as your vision blurs. You’re grinding faster than ever now, and Jungkook knows not to change his pace, keeping it up until you have to physically pry him off of your pussy.

He rises back up to you, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer. His eyes darken as he licks his lips, like he can’t bear the thought of not tasting you again. It’s a look that sends a rush of warmth through your chest, making your breath catch in your throat. You exhale softly, unable to hold back a small giggle at the way he’s looking at you.

He smirks, that playful glint never leaving his gaze. “That good?” he teases, because Jungkook would probably rather die than not tease you with his silly remarks, his voice low, but there’s a softness beneath the teasing, a hint of something more intimate.

“Always make me feel so good,” You say, a little breathless.

You nudge him playfully, but then you become acutely aware of the way he’s pressed against you, the hard bulge pressing into your lower stomach. It’s like the air between you thickens, the tension rising again, and you can’t help but feel your own pulse quicken. Jungkook’s movements shift, grinding into you without even realizing it, his body reacting to the closeness like it’s second nature.

He notices the way your breath catches, the way you become more aware of his movements. His lips curve into a knowing smile before he dips his head lower, his mouth brushing softly against your breasts.

“Forgot about these, baby,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

He kneads your breasts with a gentle but insistent pressure, his hands moving with purpose. His tongue flicks out, teasing each nub, and the sensation causes soft Ah’s escape your lips, the sound mixing with the growing rhythm of his body pressed against yours.

The grinding of his hips against yours becomes faster, more urgent, but it’s the way his touch feels—soft, yet driven—that leaves you breathless, wanting more.

Your patience begins to wear thin, and without thinking, you reach for his boxers, pulling them down slowly. His cock springs out, slapping against his abs with a soft thud. He grabs the base, spitting down on the tip that’s weeping with pre-cum, and begins to stroke it slowly.

Did it get… bigger?

You moan shamelessly.

Jungkook grins at you, the playful glint in his eyes never leaving. The way his body reacts to you, the anticipation, only heightens your own. You freeze for a moment, caught off guard by the closeness and the intensity.

“Want it so bad,” you whisper, feeling your heart race.

His smile deepens, and without hesitation, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours as he takes a deep breath, the heat between you both growing with every movement. His fingers graze your skin tenderly as he takes a moment to look at you, his expression soft, but with a hunger that makes your stomach flutter.

“Yeah?” he asks, voice rough, yet gentle. There’s care in his eyes, a tenderness that grounds you despite everything. His strokes don’t let up, and the lewd squelch of it fills the room.

You meet his gaze, your breath shaky, but you nod, your hands trembling as you skim your hands over his chest, feeling him up, feeling the connection that seems to run so much deeper than the physical everytime you’re intertwined in this sense.

His hand moves to yours, guiding them to his cock a quiet confidence, and everything feels right—natural.

As your hands reach for his cock, Jungkook’s breath hitches. He leans in, his eyes locking with yours, watching you carefully as you start to move your hand gently under his, his expression a mix of admiration and need. The way your fingers wrap around him feels so intimate, and he can’t help but groan softly at how the size of his cock makes your hand look fucking miniscule.

“So good,” he murmurs, voice low, as if trying to ground himself in the moment. He watches you, seeing the way you take control, how the trust between you builds with every movement.

For a second, he stops you, his hand over yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, the simple gesture of reassurance. Then, with a quiet breath, he pulls back slightly, allowing you to take the reins. There’s a softness in his gaze, as if he’s telling you without words that he trusts you completely.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his tone laced with wonder and vulnerability, and you feel it—how much of him is laid bare in these moments. His cock is heavy in your hands, hard as a fucking rock. And you whimper while tightening your grip, wanting more of his moans.

He starts to fuck into your fist, his breath warm against your neck, each movement slow and deliberate. His lips find their way to your neck, a soft moan escaping him as he pulls you closer, grounding himself in the moment. You respond, your pace quickening, feeling the tension between you both build.

“Like that…,” he breathes, voice thick with desire, but there’s something more there—a vulnerability, a need for the closeness, for your connection. You can feel him, not just physically, but emotionally, and it makes everything feel even more intense.

His hands find their way to your body, his grip tightening as he holds you, like he wants to be closer than ever.

The desire between you both intensifies, and Jungkook’s thrusts into your hand become more urgent, his breath coming in soft gasps.

You can feel his tension, the way he’s holding back, desperately trying to stay present in the moment. His lips trail back down your neck, his moans muffled against your skin, and it only makes the connection between you stronger.

His pace quickens, fucking your fist faster than ever, the need for more growing, but then, suddenly, he pulls back, his eyes locking with yours. He fucks your hand frantically with his cock while staring at your face, as if that’s the only thing he needs to get him going. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze, something raw and unspoken.

His cock twitches on your stomach when he moves away, practically begging for release. And you cock an eyebrow at him teasingly.

“Turn around,” he whispers, guiding you gently but urgently, his hands pressing against your waist as he pushes you against the wall.

He spreads your thighs slightly, bending down to tease your folds with his tip. Your breath hitches, a soft moan escaping your lips. You instinctively reach for him, pulling him closer, your hands finding refuge in the crook of his neck. He presses a soft kiss to your skin, but before you can fully settle into the moment, he pulls away, a look of frustration crossing his features.

“Shit… condom,” he mutters under his breath, as though the realization hits him too late.

He takes a moment to steady himself, his hand brushing over his chest, as if trying to ground himself in the situation. You turn around, searching the dressing room for what he needs, but before you can speak, he leans in, kissing you deeply, a fleeting connection before he steps away.

“Wait,” he says, his voice low and hurried. He moves toward the couch, pulling his wallet from his jacket. He rummages through it and then, with a quick motion, pulls out a condom, his focus entirely on you.

He hands you the condom, a sheepish smile on his lips, and for a brief moment, you’re caught off guard, unsure of what he wants. But then, it clicks. He wants you to put the condom on for him. The realization warms you, and you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head.

“You absolute baby,” you tease, your voice light with affection as you gently roll the condom onto his cock. His grin widens at the playful remark, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of admiration and affection. He presses a soft kiss to your lips again, a fleeting moment that makes your heart race even faster.

He pauses for a moment, his hand brushing over his cock a few times before he gently turns you back around, his breath hitching in his chest.

“Ready?” he asks softly, his voice full of anticipation but tempered with care, wanting to make sure you’re on the same page.

You let out a soft whine, the feeling of anticipation building inside you. You push back against his cock, and he fucks his length between your ass cheeks for a few seconds, kneading the skin. You crave more of him, and the connection between you both feels almost too much to bear. He takes a slow breath, trying to steady himself, before gently guiding his cock in to you.

He enters you slowly, his movements tender but filled with the intensity of the moment. You wince slightly, the familiar stretch making your walls ache, but it quickly melts into a soft moan, the sensation overwhelming in the best way.

“Tight fuckin’ fit,” he murmurs softly, his voice rough with desire, as his forehead presses against yours when you tug his face towards the crook of your neck and look at him, your hand in his scalp. Eyes closed in a mix of pleasure and awe at the closeness between you both.

He quickens his pace slightly, and you breathe into his mouth, your desperation growing with each movement.

“Harder,” you whisper, barely able to contain the yearning in your voice. He listens, his movements becoming faster, deeper, and you feel every inch of his cock inside you, as if he’s anchoring you to the moment.

His touch moves lower, fingertips grazing your sensitive clit, sending shivers through you. The sensation intensifies, and your senses blur together—his warmth, his rhythm, your connection. Every part of you feels alive with him.

“Harder,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need. Jungkook responds immediately, his movements becoming faster, more urgent. You can feel him everywhere, a deep connection forged in each motion, each breath.

Without warning, he pulls away gently, turning you around and guiding you to the floor. His hands are careful but firm, making sure you’re comfortable even as the intensity builds. He straddles you, not putting too much weight on your torso, and you find your head resting against the cool wall. The change in position has your breath hitching.

His body moves in front of you, and there’s a moment of humor when his wet cock taps your cheek by accident. You let out a small laugh, pretending to look scandalized, but the playful teasing fades as he focuses entirely on you.

Jungkook’s grip on his base is steady, his eyes locked with yours, silently asking for trust. He guides you with a hand nudging your heard forward towards his cock carefully, urging you to take control in this moment, but there’s no mistaking the power in his hands, the authority in his touch.

He waits for you to follow his lead.

You focus on ignoring the ache building within you, your mouth finding him as you draw him in. His breath hitches, and he groans, his hand resting gently in your hair. “Yeah, baby…” His voice trembles, and you can feel the rush of his desire.

You welcome him, moving with him, guiding him deeper, the taste of the condom isn’t particularly the best, but you’re too turned on to care, as your hand encourages him gently. You feel the heat building even further. Your movements quicken, a rush of desperation taking over you as he fills your mouth entirely with his cock.

But just as it feels like you’re lost in it all, he pulls back, his touch soft yet firm. He gazes down at you, and before you can fully process it, he’s stumbling backwards, a sudden coolness following as he spreads your folds out, before shoving his cock in so hard you cant help but to squeal, taking control in a way that leaves you breathless.

“Fucking shit—,” he groans, his hands moving to your body, gripping your waist tightly as he deepens his thrusts, the rhythm between you both frantic and desperate.

A gasp slips from your lips, your head spinning with the overwhelming sensation when suddenly, a knock at the door breaks through the chaos. Your heart stops. Jungkook freezes as well, both of you frozen in the moment.

“Jungkook?” The doorknob turns, the sound of someone approaching sending a wave of panic through you.

He looks at you with a smirk, but there’s a gleam in his eyes that holds a certain dominance. His hand gently presses against your mouth, silencing you. The intensity between you builds up more, and the knocks at the door spur him to fuck into you faster, the pressure mounting as he keeps moving, determined not to stop despite the interruption.

“Im fuck- Fuckin’ busy!” He shouts towards the door, enthralled by the ring of white your leaving around his dick. And you try so hard to muffle your moans, but at this point…

Whoever it is outside definitely knows.

Another knock at the door echoes, and your breath catches in your throat as his pace quickens, hitting that spot that makes everything else fade. The pressure builds, and with a quiet, teasing whisper, he leans down to your ear and murmurs, “Stay quiet, baby. Don’t want anyone to know what we’re doing, hm?”

You glare at him, frustrated and desperate, but your body betrays you as you shift your hips back against him, your breath shallow, a soft whine escaping your lips. You’re lost in the feeling, fighting to keep quiet, but it’s almost impossible.

Another knock at the door sounds, but it only seems to push Jungkook even further, his movements becoming even more urgent. He doesn’t reply this time. His hand moves from your mouth, trailing to your core, and you can feel the frantic energy in his breath as he urges you to stay quiet, but it’s becoming harder to hold back. You press your lips together, eyes squeezed shut, silently hoping whoever it is will leave quickly.

When the knocks finally stop, the room fills with the sound of his thighs smacking against yours at an alarming pace, and you can’t help but gasp at the way his tip just annihilates that spot.

You grip his broad back, grounding yourself as he lifts you, holding you up on his kneeling form by your ass cheeks, gently but firmly, guiding your body in time with his movements. The sensation builds rapidly when he starts lifting you up and down his length, and you throw your head back, one hand behind you on the wall, and you press your lips against his, matching his movements as best as you can, your hands gripping his hair, needing him closer.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, babe.” He moans softly into your ear, his voice shaky. “I’m close.”

You nod, your body shaking with anticipation. He quickens his pace, his breath against your skin making it harder to focus. The sound of his voice, the closeness between you both—everything swells within you, and in an instant, you feel yourself losing control, your body responding to the rhythm, desperately seeking more.

You give in, the intensity of the moment pushing you over the edge, and you let out a breathless moan, your body moving with his, seeking that final connection.

You press your teeth into his back, the soft bite grounding you as your frantic movements slow to gentle, steady motions. He groans deeply, and you feel him tense, the weight of the moment heavy as he fills the condom.

He pulls back just enough to kiss your face, his lips brushing softly over your skin, and it makes your heart pound in your chest. His voice is low, filled with emotion as he murmurs something about how perfect you are.

You hold him close, your fingers in his hair, your breath shaky as you pull him against you, feeling the warmth of his breath on your neck. Everything around you fades as you just let the closeness of the moment wash over you.

After what feels like an eternity of comfortable silence, the position becomes awkward. Jungkook’s body shifts as his softening length reminds you of the moment’s gravity, and you wince slightly. Sensing your discomfort, he gently pulls away, lifting you carefully and guiding you to the couch where his jacket is laid out. He doesn’t seem to mind at all that some of you have spilled onto it.

You start to speak, “Your jacket—”

He interrupts, his voice soft but full of concern. “Are you okay?” He leans down, brushing your hair back from your face, his touch tender, as if trying to make sure you’re okay.

You nod softly, watching him slide the condom off and dispose of it in the takeout bag from earlier, tossing it in the bin with a quiet finality. The intimacy of being naked together feels overwhelmingly heartwarming, almost frightening in its vulnerability. You try to push away the overwhelming thoughts, but one sudden realization hits you.

You look around, your heart skipping a beat. This is Jungkook’s damn dressing room. How much time do you really have before his concert?

Your voice catches in your throat, worry creeping into your expression. “Jungkook—how long—”

He walks over to you, a sense of calm settling over him. He throws his briefs back on and plops down next to you on the couch, his presence grounding. “Relax,” he says, his voice soothing. “We have a while.”

You sit in silence for a while, the weight of the moment settling between you. The lingering feeling of the aftermath slowly begins to take over, and you look around the room, your eyes landing on a pack of baby wipes. Hesitant, you take them in your hand, your cheeks flushing with a sense of shyness. Gently, you clean yourself, the act feeling oddly intimate in its own right, especially with him still beside you.

But Jungkook doesn’t make you feel self-conscious. He looks away, respecting your space, and for a moment, it feels as though the world outside of the two of you has faded away. You slip your panties back on, and despite the effort to clean up, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ll need a shower to truly feel refreshed. The wipes didn’t do much, but you’re too tired to care right now. The thought of the shower later is the only thing on your mind.

You plop back down next to him after slipping into your dress, giggling softly at the sight of him still in his damn briefs. “You’re acting like you have all the time in the world,” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Jungkook hesitates for a moment, and the smile on his face falters just slightly. For a split second, his eyes shift away from yours, and he runs a hand through his hair, his thoughts drifting somewhere far away. You don’t pry, but the tension in his gaze doesn’t go unnoticed.

Because he takes your words differently.

He doesn’t want to spoil the moment, doesn’t want to burden you with the weight of his departure when everything feels so fragile between them. So, he throws on his clothes quickly, forcing a smile back onto his face. As he presses a kiss to your head, his heart clenches, feeling the guilt of what he’s doing.

But for now, just for this moment, he’s going to hold onto you. He won’t let go of this. Not yet.

Jungkook chuckles, guiding you over to the mirror. The reflection staring back at you both is one of disarray—hair a mess, clothes slightly askew, faces flushed, and there’s an undeniable glow that only comes from being thoroughly worn out.

You both burst into laughter at the sight. His grin is wide, amused, and somehow softer than usual.

“Well,” he says, his voice teasing, “I’m definitely getting in trouble for this.” He looks at you, shaking his head. “Should’ve known I’d be a disaster right before a show.”

You laugh, turning your face towards him. “We both look like we just got hit by a bus, actually.”

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow, stepping closer. “But a cute bus, right?” His voice is playful, and you can’t help but roll your eyes, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

“I guess,” you mutter, still smiling, feeling all the tension melt away.

You both stare at your reflection for a moment, your exhaustion more endearing than anything else. He looks at you with a soft expression, that familiar warmth creeping back into his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks, quieter now, as if checking in after everything that happened.

You nod, smiling gently at him. “Yeah… I’m good.” And you mean it, because despite all the chaos, it feels like a moment just for the two of you.

A few minutes pass, and the two of you sit side by side on the couch, munching on a packet of crisps that’s been left on the table. They’re not great—dry and bland—but it’s enough to keep you both occupied. You pop one into your mouth, immediately cringing at the taste, and Jungkook bursts out laughing.

“These are terrible,” he says between bites, his voice muffled. “How did we even end up with these?”

You shrug, snickering. “I honestly have no idea. But we’re committed now. No turning back.”

You both giggle, the sound echoing through the dressing room. The playful mood lingers as you both try to finish off the last few crisps, trying to keep up the charade that you’re enjoying them, even though your faces say otherwise.

Finally, Jungkook tosses the bag onto the coffee table and leans back, stretching his arms above his head. “Alright, I can’t handle this anymore. Let’s go out.“

Before you can protest, he’s already pulling you toward the door, stumbling a little as he tries to maneuver around. You laugh at his uncoordinated steps, and with a teasing look, you playfully nudge him as you follow.

“Jungkook, you’re gonna trip,” you warn, your smile never fading.

“Never,” he smirks, but his voice is light, almost playful, as he struggles to keep his balance.

Jungkook steps out of the room first, running a hand through his completely wrecked hair, trying and failing to fix it. His jacket is off now, leaving him in just that mesh vest, his skin flushed, a light sheen of sweat glistening along his collarbones. You, on the other hand, are still giggling under your breath, barely holding it together as you trail after him, dazed and dizzy from whatever the hell just happened in there.

But the moment your feet hit the main room, a sharp voice cuts through the air.

“Stop fucking around. You have 15 minutes—get it together.”

You freeze.

Jungkook does too.

A manager—you’re not even sure which one, considering your brain short-circuits the second you hear them—stands a few feet away, arms crossed, gaze unamused. They don’t linger, though, turning on their heel just as fast as they appeared, leaving the words to hang thickly in the air.

The shift in Jungkook is instant.

His jaw tightens. His playful energy vanishes. His hand—wrapped so securely around yours just moments ago—lets go.

And that—that stupid little action—stings more than it should.

You know it’s nothing personal. You know it’s just him slipping into work mode, flipping the switch like he’s probably had to do a million times before. But the sudden absence of warmth against your palm makes your stomach drop anyway, leaves something unpleasant twisting in your chest.

Jungkook, for his part, doesn’t even glance your way. He exhales sharply, runs a hand down his face, and—

Drags you right back toward the main room.

You barely have time to process it, blinking up at him as he tugs you along like nothing happened.

“Damn, he was—“

Before you can even finish the sentence, his grip tightens, and you let yourself get pulled along, your heart still racing for entirely different reasons now.

“FIVE MINUTES!”

The call cuts through the room, and if things were chaotic before, now it’s mayhem.

Jungkook is in the middle of his last warmup, his voice clear even through the surrounding noise. His stylists are fussing over him one last time, his in-ears are checked again, and yet—despite all the urgency, despite the fact that a whole team is practically pushing him toward the door—he’s looking around the room.

For you.

The second he spots you, he doesn’t hesitate. He runs over, dodging people left and right, slipping past staff who are trying to usher him forward.

“Hey,” he says breathlessly, stopping right in front of you. “I’ll see you later, yeah? Ask someone to lead you to your part.”

Before you can even process his words—before you can nod or reply—he leans in.

And presses a quick peck to your cheek.

Your brain short-circuits.

Your breath catches, your entire body freezes, and your face burns—the warmth of his lips lingering on your skin long after he pulls away.

By the time you manage to stutter out a weak, “B-Bye,” he’s already stepping back, flashing you one last grin before he turns on his heel.

Just like that, he’s swept away by a frantic crowd—managers, stylists, camera crew—phones and cameras snapping photos of him as he disappears down the hall.

And the second he’s out of sight—

Nari squeals.

After what feels like an eternity of hesitation, you finally ask one of the assistants, unsure of who to turn to. They give you a polite smile and direct you toward a hallway.

You follow them, your heart still racing from that moment in the main room. What just happened? Did he—did he really kiss you? It feels surreal, like it’s a little too much to process all at once.

The assistant leads you down a winding corridor, the sound of the concert beginning to build in the background. You expect to be led to some VIP seating area or a cushioned chair at least—something fancy, considering Jungkook had promised you a special spot.

But when you walk through a door, you’re met with nothing like you expected.

The private room is a whole new level of luxury. It’s spacious and minimalist, with sleek furniture and subtle lighting. The real kicker, though, is the window that stretches from floor to ceiling, offering you a perfect view of the stage. You can hear the crowd’s energy building outside, the thrum of excitement growing louder.

It’s like your own personal VIP box, but a hundred times better.

You stand there for a moment, blinking at the view. The wide window gives you an uninterrupted look at the entire stage, and the energy of the crowd below seeps through the glass. For a moment, you just stand there, soaking in the awe of it all. This isn’t just VIP seating. This is something else entirely.

Jungkook… You think, already feeling a little overwhelmed.

You turn to the manager, who gives you a polite nod before slipping out of the room, leaving you and Nari in stunned silence.

Nari’s the first to speak, her eyes wide as she takes in the view. “Oh my god…” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. You don’t even need to say anything—your jaw is just hanging as you both stare at the sheer scale of the concert.

The crowd outside? Absolutely wild. The entire arena is packed with people, their energy almost tangible from where you stand. And then, the fan chants.

It starts slowly, then builds, echoing through the room and vibrating against the glass like it’s alive. The fans’ synchronized voices send shivers down your spine. You can hear their collective excitement, feel their connection to every word, every syllable they sing. It’s intense. Electric.

You and Nari exchange a glance, and you can both feel it—the overwhelming magnitude of what you’re witnessing. This isn’t just a concert. This is a movement.

“They’re insane,” Nari mutters, still staring in awe. “Like… how is this even real?”

You don’t have words to answer her, too caught up in the sea of fans, the flashing lights, and the vibrant energy that fills the room. This is what Jungkook is a part of. This is his world. And, somehow, you’re in it.

You both finally settle into your seats, taking in the view for a moment longer before Nari starts snapping pictures. She’s practically hyperactive, constantly repositioning herself and you, demanding different angles. “No, no, this one! From this side, trust me!” she insists, handing you her phone to take a shot of her looking ‘candidly’ out at the crowd. You roll your eyes but go along with it with a smile, snapping a few photos before Nari’s satisfied with her little session.

Meanwhile, you find yourself casually picking at the snacks on the buffet table Jungkook probably had arranged for you. Some chips, a few pieces of fruit, a tiny sandwich here and there. Nothing fancy, but it’s definitely keeping your stomach busy as you wait.

Nari, on the other hand, is more focused on her phone, scrolling through pictures and checking messages, but every now and then, her eyes flit toward the stage. It’s a strange mixture of calm and chaos—here you are, in a private room with an impeccable view of everything, yet your mind keeps racing back to Jungkook.

The buzz of the crowd grows louder as more fans flood in, and you know the show is about to start. Slowly, the lights in the arena begin to dim, casting the room into a soft twilight. You sit up a little straighter, suddenly feeling the anticipation in the air. The world feels still for just a moment, before the chaos outside swells again, and you realize—this is it.

The concert is finally about to begin.

186 notes · View notes

iibgdrgn · 15 days ago

Text

not a rookie anymore | kwon ji-yong

pairing: kwon ji-yong x male reader

word count: 4.4k

warnings: age gap, reader is 26

a/n: hellooo first time posting here! i'm really excited to share my works, hope you enjoy them. likes and comments are rlly appreciated. btw english isn't my first language so i'm sorry if there's any mistake!

He saw you for the first time when you were just a rookie at the agency. A skinny, quiet boy who barely spoke unless spoken to. You didn't stand out much back then, not in the way that you made people turn heads in the hallway now. You were polite, focused, and tried your best not to be a bother. He never really talked to you while you were there. That wasn't surprising. G-Dragon wasn't known for idle chatter, especially not with rookies. Everyone understood that his time was sacred, absorbed by his music. And you? You were just one of many hopefuls trying to build a name in the same building that already echoed with his. When he walked past, you and your group would line up like soldiers, bowing in sync with the well-practiced chorus. "Good morning, Mr. Kwon."you'd all say in unison. In response, he would just give a slight bow. That small gesture was enough to send your group into chaos once he was out of sight.

G-Dragon was already a star at YG at the time. He was around 29 years old, and you guys were about 18 or 19, so yeah, it was pretty normal to feel overwhelmed just by his presence.

Time moved forward, as it always does. Years passed, and your group actually found success in the industry. By 2023, G-Dragon had left the agency, leaving your group as YG's main male artist. It was strange, at first, being the ones younger trainees bowed to, watching your posters replace the ones you used to stare at. Your fifth and sixth albums did well. The fanbase grew louder, the stages got bigger. You signed a five-year contract a few months ago, keeping the group active at least until 2030. You were happy with how things were turning out. This was everything you used to dream about back when you were just a trainee. Sometimes, it felt like a dream, like one day you'd just wake up as a teenager again, dreaming of becoming the man you were now. But fortunately, that never happened. The only thing you ever woke up to was your alarm telling you it was time to head to the studio.

You weren't much of a fan of naps, sleep was never something you craved in the middle of the day. But today had been long, the gym had drained more energy than usual, and your body gave in. Just an hour, you told yourself. Just enough to recharge.

The alarm buzzed again at 8:00 p.m, dragging you reluctantly out of sleep. You lay there for a minute, still tangled in the warmth of your blanket, wishing you could ignore it. But the album was almost done, and the timeline was tight. With some luck, and a few more long nights, it'd be ready before 2024 ended.

You pulled on a hoodie and a beanie that hid your still-messy hair. The drive to YG didn't take long. It never did. That was the point. You'd picked your apartment for this exact reason, because inspiration didn't care what time it was. When a melody hit at 3 a.m., you wanted to be five minutes from a mic, not twenty. You didn't like waiting.

A few minutes later, you arrived and headed straight to the studio. Security knew you by now, so you passed through without much pause, nodding politely before heading to the elevator. The button for the sixth floor lit up under your finger, and a soft hum filled the space as the elevator began its climb.

You leaned back against the wall, eyes half-lidded, letting your mind drift over the tasks ahead. Nothing too intense tonight. Just stitching the members' vocals together, adjusting the mix so everything sat just right. It sounded actually pretty fun.

The studio was at the very end of the corridor. As you walked through the hallway, you passed BLACKPINK's dance practice room, TREASURE's, and what used to be BIGBANG's. It didn't carry a name anymore. The plaque had been removed. Now, it was just another practice room, available to whoever booked it first. You glanced at it, only briefly, and kept walking. Your own group's room came into view, but you weren't heading there tonight. That room was for choreography, and for that, you needed to finish the song first.

Three hours slipped in a blink, music always had that effect on you. When you were deep into a track, time stopped making sense. Still, your body knew what your mind refused to admit, you needed a break before the frustration took over completely.

You left the studio and headed down to the cafeteria. At this hour, it was nearly deserted, just a couple of late staff. You grabbed a coffee and a small box of milk from the fridge for your usual combo; latte. Back at the studio, you leaned against the desk, your coffee in hand. The screen still glowed with the open track, the same section playing on loop. You ignored it for now and reached for your phone as you noticed you hadn't checked Instagram in hours.

A few messages waited in your inbox, mostly from friends, or stylists sending you stuff to approve. You answered the ones that needed it, then tapped into stories. A few updates from the guys private accounts, someone out to eat, another complaining about dance practice. Then came the reels, your favorite thing. You liked one about cute bunnies eating carrots, another one with a cover of one of your group's songs. Then came the scroll. Thirty minutes disappeared like vapor, your thumb moving almost on autopilot. You didn't even realize how long you'd been lost in your phone until the room started to feel too quiet again.

Break over.

But before getting back to work, you opened the camera. Your coffee still sat on the desk, and behind it, the track was still open on the monitor. You snapped the photo, added a black-and-white filter and posted it to your story. Then, you locked your phone and pushed it face down. Time to finish the song.

Your plan to avoid stressing, to just let things flow, fell apart. Another three hours passed, but this time they were heavier, slower. The song wasn't coming together, no matter how many layers you adjusted or how many takes you revisited. Something was missing, not in the feeling, but in the structure. You isolated the rap section, played it again and again, counted every beat, scanned the waveform until your eyes blurred.

That was it. One beat missing or misplaced, either way, it threw the whole thing off. You stared at the screen, shoulders slumped. Re-recording wasn't in your plan, but now you didn't have a choice. The track wouldn't sit right until it was fixed. But your patience had long burned out. You hit save, closed the project, and leaned back in your chair.

The clock read 1:53 a.m. Your mind was fried, and you didn't want to think about the song anymore. Not tonight. So you stood, grabbed your phone, and left the studio.

The elevator dinged softly as it started descending. One floor, two floors. You leaned against the wall, shoulders slouched, thumb grazing your phone screen almost absentmindedly. You had completely forgotten about the story you'd posted earlier. The photo, that black-and-white shot of your coffee and the unfinished track, had gathered its usual storm of likes, enough answers to scroll for minutes.

But one notification made you freeze.

@ xxxibgdrgn had replied to your story.

Your stomach twisted. At first you didn't believe that was real. It had to be a fan account, you thought. But the blue check was there, the account was verified.

He didn't even follow you, you were sure of that. He had never interacted with you. Not once. Not being able to wait anymore, you tapped the notification, not really breathing.

"good taste."

That was all it said. Two words. But they came from him, G-Dragon. The idol of idols.

You stared at the message like it might disappear if you blinked too fast. The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, but you didn't move. You typed slowly. Paused. Deleted. Typed again.

"didn't think u'd even watch it. thanks tho."

And you sent it.

Then, your fingers hovered again. That reply had been polite, safe. But your thoughts were spinning too fast to stop. Your hands were already moving before your mind could fully catch up.

"kinda stuck on the track tonight. guess that coffee wasn't magic after all haha."

You hit send before you could overthink it more. The elevator doors had opened onto the lobby, and someone was waiting outside. A woman in a blazer stood there, eyebrows raised slightly, clearly wondering why you hadn't stepped out. You blinked like waking up from a trance, cheeks warming when you realized the small smile still on your face. You gave her a quick bow, muttering an apology, and stepped aside. As you slipped your phone into your pocket, you tried to school your expression, like it was no big deal. Like he was just another senior artist. Like you weren't currently texting one of the most legendary names in the industry. You wouldn't open your phone again until you were home, safe in the privacy of your living room, where you could stare at the screen in disbelief, smile and react like a complete idiot without anyone around to see it.

The parking lot was nearly empty. Only a few cars left under the flickering lights. Yours was parked right where you left it. The drive was short, just as you expected.

Inside your apartment, you dropped your keys onto the table with a soft clatter, slipped out of your sneakers, and let your bag slump beside the door. Your body headed straight for the couch before your mind even caught up. You sank into the cushions, the room dark except for the ambient glow from a streetlight filtering through the curtains.

You unlocked your phone. One message, the answer you were expecting.

"It's okay to be stuck sometimes. Keep digging."

You smiled. The words were simple, but they hit differently coming from him. You didn't even care about the text content, not really. It was the fact that it was real, a conversation between just the two of you. You stared at the screen, thumbs hovering. Then finally typed.

"noted. any recs?"

Three minutes passed. Then four. You got up, wandered into the kitchen, opened the fridge just to grab a bottle of water you didn't really need. Every few seconds, you glanced back at your phone like it might light up from across the room.

Ten minutes. You gave up and turned the TV on. Some late-night drama flickered across the screen, but you weren't really watching. Your mind was elsewhere. You were halfway through considering turning everything off and going to bed when your phone buzzed on the table. Your hands moved faster than you meant them to.

"Listening to old music always work for me. Maybe start with jazz. Then go somewhere weirder."

You smiled, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You felt weirdly proud, the words felt like advice passed through some secret doorway, these were his methods, his go-to comforts, and for me reason, the idea made your chest feel a little lighter.

"thank you. i will :)"

You picked up your headphones and scrolled through your spotify library. You found a playlist, Coltrane, Davis, Baker. The soft brass tones filled your ears as you leaned back into the couch again, one hand resting on your stomach, the other still loosely holding the phone. That's when the questions came.

Why was Ji-yong texting you?

No. Mr. Kwon. G-Dragon. You corrected yourself, out of instinct.

Years ago, it would've made sense. Same agency, same building. But now? He wasn't part of YG anymore. He didn't owe you a reply, or even attention. You weren't even sure he'd ever looked directly at you when he still roamed the company halls. Back then, he hardly spoke to anyone, an untouchable figure orbiting on a higher level, unreachable even to other idols.

Did he remember you from those years? Was this some moment of nostalgia? Or was he just bored, scrolling through stories and replying on impulse?

You didn't have the answer.

But at some point, it stopped mattering.

Your thoughts blurred, softened by the music and the weight of the day. Somewhere between the second and third track, your breathing slowed. Your phone slipped from your hand, your headphones loosened and slid down to your shoulder.

The saxophone played on, a gentle lullaby for a mind still trying to understand what had just happened.

[...]

You didn't even know the reason for the party. One moment you were sprawled out on your bed, mind half-asleep, and the next, you were in the backseat of a car. Plus, you weren't alone, two of your group members tagged along, one of them being the one who actually got the invitation in the first place.

You arrived fashionably late, 1:30 a.m., to be exact, and the second you stepped inside, you understood what kind of party it was. A post-release celebration for a JYP group. You didn't recognize them at first, not by name, but the glossy poster set up by the entrance helped. You made sure to memorize a few of the members' faces, just in case you ran into them and had to offer the classic "congrats on the release" with a polite smile. Probably wouldn't happen anyway. The place was packed. Loud music, flashing colored lights, bodies moving to the beat in the center of the room while the songs of the group were being played.

You and your best friend, Yoon, gravitated toward the bar, not necessarily to drink, at least not yet, but because it was quieter there, away from the whirlwind of neon and sweaty excitement. You sat side by side, half-dancing to the rhythm as you sipped on sparkling water. Your best friend leaned his head on your shoulder with a dramatic sigh.

"Hey!" he shouted over the music, too close to your ear. "What if you text him? He's taking too loooong."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "He's probably just late" you said, reaching for your phone anyway. He watched you like a hawk as you unlocked the screen. You opened Instagram to message the friend who was supposed to join you but hadn't shown up yet.

But the moment you opened your DMs, your friend bolted upright like he'd just been electrocuted.

"WHAT?" He said after jumping from your shoulder.

You blinked, confused and a little startled.

"What—what's wrong?"

He didn't even let you finish. He pointed a finger straight at your phone like it was a crime scene.

"YOU TALK TO G-DRAGON?!"

You froze, thumb hovering above the screen where the last messag with @ xxxibgdrgn sat quietly, far down in your inbox. Two weeks old now.

"I mean..." You shrugged, already feeling your face warm. "Yeah?"

"Yeah? Yeah?" His jaw dropped dramatically, exactly as you expected. He looked like you just told him you could time-travel. "So you're just casually dropping that you're friends with, like... a literal legend?"

"'Friends' is a stretch" you said, raising your brows. "He talked to me once."

Your friend gasped like he'd been stabbed.

"And he talked to you first?"

You looked back at your friend, trying not to smile.

"Don't make a big deal out of it."

He groaned loudly, sinking back onto his stool and running both hands through his hair. "This is—this is criminal," he muttered. "You've just been sitting on this information like it's nothing?"

You gave him a look. "What did you want me to do? Post a screenshot?"

"Yes!" he said instantly. "Wait — no. But also yes! Maybe on your private account or something! I just— how are you so calm about this?! I physically cannot not make a big deal out of it."

You laughed under your breath and slipped your phone back into your pocket. "Well, he hasn't messaged again, so maybe it wasn't a big deal."

He narrowed his eyes. "That's because you haven't messaged again."

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. He had a point.

A smug grin spread across his face. "Mhm. That's what I thought. You better send a 'hey' before someone else becomes his next muse or creative soulmate or whatever."

You rolled your eyes. "You're actually delusional."

"And you're in denial. Which makes this so much more entertaining."

You were about to answer when your phone buzzed in your hand, not a text this time, but a call. You raised your brows and showed the screen to your friend, Haeon. It was the one person missing from your golden trio.

"About time" you muttered, answering. "Where are you?"

"I think I'm lost" his voice came through, slightly muffled by the music and the unmistakable sounds of a party happening not where he was. "I ended up in some garden? There's, like... a statue of a dolphin? Or maybe it's a seal. I don't know, it's dark."

You pressed your fingers to your temple, trying not to laugh. "We're coming."

[ ... ]

You lost track of time. It had to be close to 3 a.m., maybe even later. But no one at the party seemed interested in checking the clock. The energy in the air was still alive, like it had just started an hour ago, not like people had been drinking and dancing for hours already. After finally locating your lost friend, the three of you made your way back to the bar. You didn't drink much, but enough to feel a little lighter, funnier. Your smile came easy, and your body moved without overthinking.

The three of you eventually made it to the dance floor. The music had shifted, it wasn't the JYP group's album anymore, but a mix of random tracks. You closed your eyes, letting your head move in slow circles, a grin tugging at your lips. Your friends were next to you, pulling out ridiculous, chaotic moves. You joined them, throwing your body into it, laughing so hard your stomach hurt.

"Show me what you got, show me what you got!" one of your friends shouted, pointing at the other like he was challenging him to a duel. Immediately, Haeon broke into a sloppy remix of your group's choreography. You clutched your stomach, wheezing with laughter, until he grabbed your hands and tried to get you to join in. You stumbled forward, giggling, trying to keep up. You attempted a few of the moves, but your limbs didn't fully cooperate, your balance thrown off by the drink and the sudden spotlight. You must've looked ridiculous.

That's when you heard a soft, amused laugh from nearby. Your head turned. It was a girl, unfamiliar face, but something in her energy made you instantly like her. She clapped playfully for your dancing, then gave you a slight, graceful bow.

"Can I borrow your friend?" she asked, gesturing toward the boy who still held your hand. You smiled and nodded before even thinking. She had the kind of presence people didn't say no to. You turned to your friend for confirmation, but he was already halfway through a spin, pulling her along with him. You laughed and stepped back, watching them disappear into the crowd.

You chuckled, then turned to Yoon, who was still grooving beside you.

"I wanna go to the bathroom," he said, breathless. "Wait for me, yeah?" You nodded.

Alone now, with no one to dance with, you decided it was time to rehydrate. You slipped away from the flashing lights, crossing the room until you reached the bar.

You sat at the bar, elbows resting against the cold counter. The bartender approached and you ordered a gin and tonic, something simple that wouldn't hit too hard, at least not immediately.

You took a small sip, relishing the way the cold spread across your tongue, the bitterness cutting through the heat rising in your face from all the dancing and laughing earlier. The air was cooler near the bar, a reprieve from the heat of the dance floor, and you let yourself enjoy the stillness.

And then you heard a voice.

"Good taste."

You blinked. For a second, you didn't move.

Kwon Ji-yong. You hadn’t noticed him sit down. Of course you hadn’t. He was leaning casually against the counter, a half-smile on his lips, one arm draped along the bar like he owned the space around him. Maybe he did.

He wore a loose-sleeved shirt, silky and half-unbuttoned, the light catching the fabric just right to show there was a tank top layered underneath, white, fitted. Around his neck hung a tie, barely tied, more decorative than anything. It was sky blue, with little daisy flowers printed all over it.

You found yourself staring. Too long. Way too long.

He was talking, probably, but your brain had gone momentarily blank. All you could think was that he looked like something out of a music video, and not one set in reality. Like a dream had decided to become physical. You blinked. Once. Twice. And then, finally, words stumbled out of your mouth.

"Do you only know two words or is that your thing now?" You said without thinking.

His smile didn't fade. "Depends who I'm talking to."

You laughed "I mean," you shrugged, turning toward him fully, "it was a decent opener."

He nodded once, like he already knew. "Mm. I liked it the first time," he said, his gaze steady, relaxed. "Thought I'd try it again. See if it still worked."

Then he chuckled, low and warm, shifting slightly on the barstool. One leg angled toward you now, knee brushing lightly against yours, not enough to call it a move, but enough to feel. There was no arrogance in the way he did it, no show. Just a quiet kind of presence, like he knew who he was and didn’t need to prove it. You let your eyes drift to his tie, to the small embroidered flowers dancing across the fabric. You bit the inside of your cheek, then gave in. He looked like a damn super model.

"You always dress like this at 3 a.m?"

He smirked. "Only when I think I'll meet someone worth impressing."

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling again.

"Smooth."

"I try."

And then there was silence, but not the kind that pushed people apart. The kind that asked you to stay in it. You let yourself keep looking, too long maybe, but he didn’t look away either. His gaze dropped briefly, tracing the curve of your jaw, then back up, slowly.

He leaned in just a little, not enough to close the space, just enough to make the air between you feel different.

"You know," he said, glancing down at your glass, "you've got a way of making it feel like we've done this before."

You blinked once, slowly. "Like we've met?"

He nodded, eyes still on you, soft and steady.

For a second, you didn't know what to do with that. So you brought your glass back up, hiding behind it as you took another sip, long, unhurried. The cold edge of the drink pressed against your lip, grounding you just enough to organize the words that were trying to form.

He didn't say anything else. Just waited, patient in a way most people weren't anymore. He wasn't filling the silence to make himself feel more interesting, wasn't trying to prove anything. That made you feel... strangely safe.

You lowered your glass slightly. "Actually... yeah. We did meet. Kind of."

His brows lifted, curious.

You smiled a little, more to yourself than to him. “Back when I debuted. I didn’t introduce myself or anything. I just… said hi. Maybe twice. You were always surrounded. And I looked—I looked really different.”

“How different?” he asked, low voice edged with intrigue.

“My hair was silver back then,” you said with a faint laugh. “Like, full-on mirrorball silver. I was also… skinnier. More bones than confidence. I avoided eye contact like it was radioactive.”

That smile of his grew, not wide, not flashy, just crooked and soft and real. “I remember.”

You looked up at him, a little startled. “Wait, seriously?”

He nodded again, eyes never leaving yours. “You were with your group. You all sang something for me.” A pause, then a light chuckle. “Crayon, right?”

Your jaw dropped a little. "Oh my God."

The scene crashed back into your brain like a splash of cold water, the harsh lights of the practice room, your group lined up awkwardly in front of him, voices cracking with nerves as you shouted Get your crayon! like your lives depended on it. YG had told you to do it. Said something about "earning respect the old-fashioned way."

“You’re kidding,” you whispered, half-mortified.

Ji-Yong chuckled softly. "It was cute."

You groaned, dropping your head into your hand. "YG encouraged us to serenade you. Like, seriously. Told us it might 'set the tone for our reputation.' So we just... went for it."

"I remember thinking you looked scared out of your mind," he said, amused.

"I was. I didn't even look at you."

Before he could answer, your phone buzzed sharply in your pocket, jolting you back to earth. You pulled it out with a sigh.

You snorted.

Ji-Yong raised an eyebrow. "Trouble?"

You held up the screen for him to see. "Emergency. Apparently Haeon is defending our honor with a handstand battle."

He laughed, quiet and sudden, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes crinkling. It was stupidly cute, and it made you smile too, involuntarily. “Sounds like a crisis.”

You pushed your chair back and stood, smoothing out your shirt. “I should go before someone films it and it turns into our next viral concept.”

“Could be iconic,” he teased, still grinning.

“Oh, we’d never recover,” you said with mock seriousness. Then, a little softer, “Thanks. For the drink company. And, you know, the unexpected blast of rookie-year trauma."

Ji-Yong leaned on the bar, fingers tapping lightly. “Anytime.” He gave a small, crooked smile.

You dipped your head slightly, a small, playful bow, and turned to go. You didn’t glance back right away, you made it to the edge of the crowd first. But curiosity won. You peeked.

He was still watching. Of course he was.

And when your eyes met again, his smile curved a touch more.

You didn’t wave. Didn’t say a word. But something warm nestled behind your ribs as you turned away again. Maybe that message he’d sent weeks ago wasn’t the whole story.

And then, in the corner of your eye, you spotted Haeon attempting a handstand, arms flailing, legs everywhere, before collapsing to the floor with a dramatic thud.

You sighed.

Yeah. Definitely a crisis.

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