#of having made those decisions to begin with

[calebsdog]

Caleb's birthday is approaching. This year, you're prepared to make his every wish come true. Even the wishes neither of you thought were possible, until now.

However, you have your own birthday wish for Caleb this summer. You've kept your mouth shut, holding your secret close to your chest.

Looking back, Caleb has never had healthy eating habits. You only had to sit and think about it for a minute before it became painfully obvious. He's been getting away with it for so long.

Caleb has always been neglected. By friends, by loved ones, and worst of all you. Caleb carried himself with such confidence, such strength, that even those closest to him couldn't realize he had his own hardships.

"Gran?" Caleb, only seven years old, barely standing to height with Josephine's knee, looks up at his guardian.

"Could you please get me protein bars at the store?"

"Hm?" Gran's weathered thumbs struggle with the collar button of her flowery blouse. Her hands, burdened with a slight tremble, continue to slip, missing the opening.

"Honey, why would you want a protein bar? Wouldn't you want something more tasty? There are plenty of granola bar flavors I could search for."

Josephine was a little befuddled by Caleb's sudden request. She's never known a seven year old to want something as tasteless as a protein bar. She struggles with talking down Mc, only a few years younger than the boy, from clearing out candy shelves.

"No thank you, Gran. I'm not really hungry when I wake up in the morning. Breakfast is too much food for me. I think protein bars would be healthier."

Gran ignores every red flag waved in her face. Everyone has always brushed aside their concerns for Caleb. How could someone who smiles so brightly also have struggles?

He gets his protein bars. For years to come, they're a repeated purchase on Gran's grocery list. He pulls out a protein bar for breakfast, a protein bar for lunch, and the largest portion on his plate during dinner are the veggies.

On rare occasions Caleb cheats his self-imposed diet he'll work himself to death to make up for it. He never treats food for the joy of eating. For every one of his life necessities, Caleb takes the bare minimum to survive.

It makes you sick to think about. That little boy you grew up with, so full of life, was clipping his wings where everyone could see. Gran, his teachers, any adult in his life should have seen the signs and stepped in. You were too young to realize it then. But they weren't.

If Caleb wanted to begin changing your relationship this year, he would have to make some changes with himself too. And you wanted to start with his worst habit.

"Caleb, I cooked your favorite tonight."

"My eyes were bigger than my stomach. Can you eat what's left on my plate, please?"

"You're going to work out? I was hoping we could watch a movie tonight. Can we cuddle for a bit? You can work out later instead."

If Caleb can learn to associate you, your love, and comfort with food, maybe he'll start eating properly on his own.

It would have been healthier to tell Caleb what you were doing. You sprinkled these little white lies during every meal, secretly piling more food on his plate and preventing him from burning the calories.

But Caleb has made plenty of questionable decisions in the name of your safety. He doesn't get to be the only unapologetic one in the name of protecting the person they love.

"Surprise!" Uncovering Caleb's eyes, his living room was flooded with warm, vibrant decorations. Orange and blue balloons hover at the ceiling. Hot pink gift boxes are tripping hazards scattered over his carpet.

And, in the center of it all, piles of the most unhealthy foods known to man wait for Caleb on the coffee table. Macaroons, cookies, defrosting containers of ice cream. And who could forget the triple layer birthday cake?

Powdered flour clings to your sweaty forehead. It feels like the bottom of your feet were smashed repeatedly with a hammer. You spent the entire day cooped up in the overheated kitchen. Baking in the middle of June was no laughing matter.

Frankly, it was embarrassing to look this messy on Caleb's special day.

"It's just us this year. No need to share your cake with anyone else. So, how about... We both eat as much as we want?"

Caleb doesn't have to ask to know you've made this ensemble with blood, sweat, and tears. He thought he went all out when he cooked for you, barely taking a portion for himself while he filled your plate. This was a new level of effort.

"Heh."

Glancing back at his reason to breathe, he reaches out to take one of your cramping, sore hand. He lifts that hand to his lips, looking at the grime underneath your fingernails you didn't have time to wash out. Bending his neck, the pink tip of his tongue licks away a lingering smear of chocolate sauce on your thumb.

"That's a lot of food for just the two of us to get through. I guess I have to put in my best effort so you don't suffer alone."

[asheepinfrance]

Something Quiet, Something Still, Something Easy

an: a short little something for ava flava @tacobacoyeet

tag list: @artstennisracket @glassmermaids and also ava but its redundant to tag her twice

He breathes differently in his sleep, something slow and deep, pulled out from the steady rise and fall of his stomach, his chest. Something distant, rolling, thunder from miles away. It’s become its own form of white noise, a repetitive, anchoring pattern. Soundwaves without pressure. Just there, repeating themselves. His eyes meet the pale yellow of streaming sunlight through pale curtains when they make the decision to begin the steady pull of opening, the white ones you’d chosen some time ago, insisting on getting some light in the room. The kind that makes the cotton of his sheets glow pearlescent, radiating warmth like some kind of beacon to relaxation. Beneath his nose lies hair, yours, mussed up and arching upwards at the roots, tickling, feathery, something constant. Not unwelcome in its insistent press, but always there. 

He can’t see your face, doesn’t have to either. He can feel the stream of air, warm on the exhale, a cold pull on the intake, against his chest. Rhythmic. This, the ease of waking up in the mornings without the blur of restless sleep, has become routine now. Not early morning drills, fluorescently colored shakes with lingering chalk of protein powder, just retracing the lines in another person’s palm, reminding himself that the ring around your finger matches his own. It’d been hard at first, the loss of routine so suddenly post-retirement, left sitting in his own discomfort, muscles aching not from use, but the utter lack of it. Twiddling his thumbs, flattening down an unwrinkled shirt, and breathing in air till his lungs filled to the brim for the first time in years. You made things easier, the softness at the edges of a mind turned stone, something to guide him.

“Your hair’s a mess, you know.”

He feels your words more than he really hears them, a collection of multi-toned vibrations against him, all deeper than usual with the remnants of drowsiness which cling to the ends, pulling them lower and lower.

“Yeah, well, you’re one to talk.”

He lifts your face by the chin, cradling something precious, fragile, in his hands. They’re warm where they meet you, sharp-lined and softened like clay, molded to fit your frame. He doesn’t do much more than watch for a moment, half-lidded and full-chested, as your eyelashes part and reconnect, kissing the tops of your cheekbones with each flutter. It’s agonizing in the way only pride can be, to know something so gorgeous can exist, so close, and still so far. There’s nothing about you that isn’t perfection, not in the mess of hair atop your head, not the yet unbrushed teeth and baggy eyes. Not a damn thing. In fact, he likes those little cracks in the picket-fence facade the most. He kisses like he forgot how to take in air that wasn’t from your lungs.

He’s sure to be careful where he rolls you onto your back, a hand beneath your head despite all that there is coming to meet it being thick, woven cotton, downy pillows, all the airy softness that money and a sun-warmed window can provide. The visible dust motes swaying in the air like little dancers, shining under the radiance of a sunbeam, be damned. His fingers trace along your sternum like the spine of a book, details etched in that he can’t quite tell are real. Maybe he imagines the slight bump here, the continued flatness there. He would still give anything to crack you down the center and bury himself there, as close as can be. Closer than close. He moves without rhythm, rhyme, or reason, like a breeze of caresses and soft breaths. A shadow with a pulse, hardly there, but pressing. He thinks he could fall asleep to the sound of the lazy, drawn out exhales you release when you watch him move. Observant, appreciative, never more than soft. The kind of joy that presses your chin to your chest, makes your skin gather in on itself. You taste like the slight tinge of sweat from too-warm blankets and honey, like musk and something rich and deep. Wine, chocolate. Something of an aphrodisiac. 

“Good morning.”

He presses his nose into your stomach, enjoys the softness, imagines it round.

“Good morning to you, too.”

[glowettee]

✧・゜: how i'm learning to trust my creative intuition :・゜✧:・゜✧

hey lovelies! ✨

i've been thinking a lot about creative intuition lately, that quiet inner voice that nudges you toward certain ideas or projects. for the longest time, i was absolutely terrible at listening to it. i'd get these little sparks of inspiration and immediately talk myself out of them. "that's been done before" or "you don't have the skills for that" or my personal favorite: "who do you think you are?"

sound familiar? thought so.

the thing is, i've slowly been learning that my intuition actually knows what it's talking about. those random ideas that pop into my head at 2am or while i'm in the shower? they're not random at all, they're my creative compass trying to guide me toward what truly lights me up.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ recognizing intuition vs. fear ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

the first big challenge was learning to tell the difference between my intuition and my fear. they can sound weirdly similar sometimes!

my intuition tends to feel like excitement mixed with certainty, like "yes! this!" even when it makes no logical sense. it feels light and expansive, like opening a window in a stuffy room.

fear, on the other hand, feels heavy and contracted. it comes with a lot of "shoulds" and worrying about what other people will think. it's the voice that compares my chapter 1 to someone else's chapter 20.

i started keeping track of when these different voices would speak up, and slowly got better at recognizing which was which.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ creating space to listen ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

intuition doesn't shout. it whispers. and in our noisy, constantly-connected world, those whispers can get completely drowned out.

i realized i needed to create actual space to hear myself think. for me, that looks like:

morning pages: three pages of stream-of-consciousness writing before looking at my phone

solo walks without podcasts or music (just me and my thoughts)

intentional boredom: staring out windows, lying on the floor, letting my mind wander

reducing input before trying to create output (no scrolling before creative sessions)

it's amazing what starts to bubble up when you're not constantly drowning it out with other people's voices and ideas.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the "stupid idea" notebook ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

one of the most helpful tools has been my "stupid idea" notebook, a judgment-free zone where i write down every creative impulse, no matter how ridiculous it seems.

the name is intentionally silly to remind myself not to take it all so seriously. some ideas truly are stupid, and that's perfectly fine! but some turn out to be the beginnings of something meaningful.

the rule is simple: write it all down, evaluate later. this creates a safe space for intuition to speak without immediately being shut down by my inner critic.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ small intuition experiments ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

trusting your intuition is like building a muscle, you start small and work your way up.

i began with low-stakes creative decisions: which color to use in a drawing, which topic to write about in my journal, which route to take on my walk. when something felt intuitively "right," i'd go with it, even if i couldn't explain why.

gradually, i started trusting my intuition with bigger choices: which project to pursue, which opportunities to say yes to, which creative direction to explore.

with each small win, my confidence in my inner guidance grew stronger.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ embracing the "wrong" turns ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

here's the thing about intuition: sometimes it leads you down paths that seem to go nowhere. i've followed creative impulses that resulted in projects i never finished or ideas that didn't work out.

but i'm learning that these aren't failures, they're necessary detours. every "wrong" turn teaches me something i needed to learn or leads me to connections i wouldn't have made otherwise.

intuition isn't finding the most direct path; it's finding YOUR path, with all its twists and surprises.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ letting go of external validation ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

perhaps the hardest part of trusting my creative intuition has been detaching from external validation. when you follow your intuition, you might create things that don't immediately resonate with others or fit neatly into what's trending.

i'm still working on this one, honestly. but i've noticed that my most intuitive creations... the ones that felt most aligned with my inner voice, are ultimately the ones people connect with most deeply, even if the audience is smaller.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ a gentle practice ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

trusting your creative intuition isn't a destination, it's an ongoing practice. some days i'm better at it than others. sometimes fear still wins. but each time i choose to listen to that quiet inner knowing, it gets a little louder, a little clearer.

if you're struggling to trust your own creative voice, start small. create tiny spaces of silence. write down the whispers. follow the sparks of excitement. and be patient with yourself when you forget.

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[ameliahiatt]

Molly hands over he phone as Metzli gives her the photo. Them claiming it to be one of the only photos they have causes a pang of hurt and possibly the tinies bit of guilt to Molly's heart. There were pictures galore and a few home movies as evidence of her childhood with her parents. From what she'd learned from Metzli so far she could understand why, though. She just couldn't help but wish things could've been different for them.

She's smiling at the photo though, the handmade doll standing out, sweet and innocent. "How precious..." Another somber feeling washes over her as she focuses on the look on young Metzli's face and part of her wants to ask, but Molly's attention is cut to present day Metzli who's squealing at the sight of the picture of twenty-year old Molly.

Her face is red now, mostly at the second take of her photo. "That was my one and only spray tan." she says, recalling the less than stellar memory. "Her wedding was so much fun but I ended up covered in hives for the next two days thanks to whatever concoction was in that tanning solution." Her friends tried to convince her it was something else but she had sworn them off forever after that - and rightfully so. "I'm not a huge trend follower but I am so glad those fell out of rotation."

Briefly her mind begins to wander to her own wedding. Despite the pain brought on by the thought of it she didn't completely hate it. There were things she'd do differently if given another go and she also loved some of the decisions she had made then. "They're so much fun when things go right." Though she was quickly reminded of remarks made years after her own by her husband at the time and fought back an eye roll at the thought. "And they're even better when you can let go of the fact that they're all about the happy couple, or bride specifically in some cases, and that no other opinions matter. Especially when they come from the groom years after the fact." That was too specific but there was nothing she could do now. And being a little petty felt good, actually.

"Yellow, huh? I'll keep that in mind." From bouquets, to paints, to cards, there are a variety of things Metzli can use the color for. A few presents here and there that they think she'd enjoy. And it made sense to Metzli why she would like a vibrant color like that. It's happiness, and warmth, and home.

Because on rainy days, as cozy as they can be, you search for the sun. That clear sky above. All of it, a sign. That for every moment of gloom, the world continues to spin, eventually paying off the balance when the rays break through the clouds. Almost the way Molly did when the two of them first met at the library.

"I know where my photo is." Metzli smiles, a little somber haze tilting it downwards as they lean forward and retrieve their wallet. "It's one of the only photos I have," They say quietly, flipping their wallet open and sliding out a worn out photo that'd lost most of its color. The edges are jagged with age and the constant of being in a wallet.

Impressioned in the center in a small moment of their childhood, stands Metzli. They're wearing a hat and dress, and holding a doll they made themself. Their clothes are a little dirty, and their braids are a little messy from running around. They're not even smiling, but that's only because they'd just gotten yelled at for ruining their dress, and subsequently ruining the picture. Metzli keeps that memory to themself though.

"Here. We'll trade." The two swap, and Metzli is immediately giggling and kicking their feet ecstatically like a child who'd found the best kept secret. "Oh my god," They're squealing, unable to contain themself. "This is the best thing ever. Man. I wanna go to a wedding. They always look kind of fun in the movies. Well..." Metzli's voice raises in pitch and they shrug, "When things go well at least. But--wait. Are you as tan as me in this?!"

[revvethasmythh]

An idle thought, really, but I think it's interesting to see fandom latch on the metaphorical interpretation of things like Laudna's relationship with Delilah as a metaphor for addiction or Imogen's psychic powers as a metaphor for either chronic pain or queerness, but there's much less attachment to or discussion of the characters who explicitly, canonically dealt with exactly those things. By which I mean Scanlan's substance abuse, Veth's alcoholism, and even Ashton's chronic pain (which feels like it was discussed much more before it was confirmed canon, and seems to be brought up mostly just as ship fodder these days). I suppose one could argue the devotion to the metaphorical interpretations lies in the fact that it's an interpretation of canon as opposed to being explicitly so, meaning there's more wiggle room to project a personal interpretation onto it. Explicit canon is more concrete, less malleable to the individual viewer. Still, if we're going to talk about addiction now in a metaphorical sense via Laudna, it leads me to wonder if we will see further discussion of the characters who explicitly dealt with addiction (Veth and Scanlan), as opposed to Laudna's purported allegorical version of it

[kurokoros]

I want to meet the duffer brothers so badly specifically so that I can ask them why the hell season three is like that. was it netflix making decisions behind the scenes? did they genuinely think changing the tone, flanderizing the characters, and making up the most batshit insane plotlines were good ideas? were they desperately trying to get the show canceled so they could work on other projects, but it backfired on them so badly that they were given two more seasons and a multi-million dollar contract that was too good to turn away?

[byanyan]

ㅤborn on june 30th at 3:40 am to eunji byun, a woman who never had any intention of raising a child, byan was taken home by their adoptive parents, hye-jin yoon and dae-seong lee, a couple who had never been able to have a child of their own and had eagerly awaited their arrival. given the name yeong-hwan lee, they were treated exactly as if they were the couple's biological son and learned to refer to the two as eomma and appa (mom and dad).

this was the only period in their life where byan had a very "normal" childhood. and it was good! they were a happy, outgoing kid from the start, always curious and full of energy. they felt loved. they were loved. they don't remember it, but they were even taken to korea to meet their parents' extended family when they were two.

things were good, and it seemed like they were only going to get better when hye-jin unexpectedly discovered that she was pregnant.

byan's sister, hwa-young, was born on september 9th, when they were four years old. given her name because hye-jin was fond of the idea of her children having similar names, even byan was excited by this, and by the concept of having a baby sister. things remained exciting for the first few weeks, but as time passed and the newness of having a baby in the house began to wear off, things started to get... complicated. neither parent had particularly high paying jobs, and hye-jin couldn't afford to take much of a maternity leave. she worked from home, but between work, household chores, and hwa-young, neither she nor dae-seong had much time left over for byan, let alone for themselves. needless to say, it was a stressful time, and with money and energy running thin, byan beginning to act out a couple months in due to a lack in the attention they were used to having didn't exactly help matters.

only a few months before their fifth birthday, byan was placed into the care of a foster family. it wasn't an easy decision for either of their parents to make, but they had never planned for two children and no longer believed that they could properly support or give them both the life they deserved. the decision was made thinking that it would give byan the opportunity for something better, and that if things ever turned around for the family, they could eventually be brought back.

ㅤ—of course, that never happened.

contact was kept for a while, but when it seemed to only make things harder on byan, and subsequently harder on all of them, the decision to cut contact completely and all at once was made. the thought process was that if byan stopped waiting and hoping for the day that they'd get to come home, maybe they would eventually allow themself to settle with another family. at least they were probably young enough that they wouldn't remember all that much from their first four years, right? surely they would move on, and eventually be happier for it.

the last thing byan remembers hearing from eomma and appa didn't even come directly from them. it came through their foster mother, who tried to make it sound exciting that their last name had been changed from lee to byun.

[lucidfairies]

— mess around [sevika]

part two • part three • part four

synopsis: it wasn't everyday you moved to the south, surrounded by cowboys and their women, but here you were, and your new neighbor simply couldn't get any more enticing

pairing: rancher!sevika x married housewife!reader

warnings: cheating, dom!sev, sub!reader, inexperienced reader (with women), size kink, light domestic kink, cum kink, tribbing, cunniligus, fingering, PRAISE, pet names, finger sucking, aggressive husband, he threatens to shoot Sevika, drinking/r gets drunk, m/f sex mentioned very briefly, r has long enough hair to braid

a/n: hi! I don't condone cheating. this is only part one, there'll be several parts ;)

wc: 6.5k

The air was thick in the outskirts of the city on Saturday morning. You rose with the sun, ready for a long day of moving, especially without your husband. This was a rushed decision, moving into this house together. You believed that the house was too large, no single couples needed three bedrooms, but your husband insisted that it would be perfect when you two chose to begin a family in future. And, well, you listened to him. He was good at talking you into things you didn’t want to do.

The house bared down on you when you arrived hours later. The porch was long, stretching around the corners of the house, large double-doors beckoning to be opened. The jagged edge of the key in your hand dug into your palm the longer you looked at the home, and you decided to suck it up and go in.

Walking in, you were greeted by a large kitchen with expansive glass windows that looked over the fields that came with the house. It was truly a gorgeous house, you were simply unsure if it was the place for you. But it was too late, the house was already yours, and the keys jingled as you sat them on the counter top.

The moving trucks would arrive soon, but you allowed yourself a moment to breathe as you walked throughout the house, peaking in each room. The largest bedroom had windows that mimicked those in the kitchen, and against your best hopes, your husband had been right. The other bedrooms would make good nurseries. For now, one would be an office and the other would be a guest bedroom. But you could envision your future.

There was a loud whistle from outside, indicating that at least one of the trucks had arrived. You released a sigh and traveled back downstairs, opening the doors with a whoosh of warm air. A mover hopped out of the large truck and came over to greet you, shaking your hand and explaining what was going to happen.

As the movers began bringing things into the house, you observed the outside. Across the street was the only close house, which sat on miles of land just as your new home did. The other house was different, though. It had miles of fencing, caging in horses and sheep, and if you squinted, you swore you could see cows in a small barn far down on the edges of the land.

Because the movers didn’t need you yet, you decided to venture across the street and meet the new neighbors. You didn’t look your best, as you were dressed to move, and you didn’t have anything to give them when you greeted them, but it didn’t matter. You could always invite the family over for dinner in the future.

There was a pair of brown, ratty cowboy boots resting against one of the steps, which made sense for the area. You were against moving south, you didn’t enjoy the heat and you had never ridden a horse before, but your husband insisted. The boots were lined with what looked like generations worth of mud, caked into every crevice and line.

You knocked on the door, waiting a moment before it opened. What you weren’t expecting was to be met with the sternum of a woman in front of you. It took you a moment to look up, and up, and up, before you met her eyes. She had a sullen expression on her face, as if you had just ruined her entire day. You tried not to think much of it, and you barely could with the attractive nature of the woman.

It was just her height that made her large - no, the woman had muscle packed onto her more than anyone you believed to have seen in your life. She was in a white shirt and jeans that hugged her muscular thighs so tightly you worried the seam would rip. Her eyes were grey, and they contrasted against her darker skin. Her hair was short, pulled away from her face and her lips were downturned as she looked at you.

“Hi,” you chirped nervously. “I just moved in across the street, I figured I would come introduce myself,” you gave her your name, a dark blush of embarrassment gracing your cheeks. “You have a lovely home.” The woman’s lips quirked into a side smirk, and your face grew hotter.

“Sevika,” her hand reached out between you, and there was a beat between you before you realized that she was offering her hand to shake. You cleared your throat, enveloping her palm in your own. Her hand practically swallowed yours. “Seems like a pretty big house for one little lady, sugar.” She joked, glancing over at the house as she leaned her weight against the door frame.

“Oh, no, it’s my husband and I. He’s away with business until late tonight, so I’m moving what I can.” A disapproving look smeared against her face.

“He left you alone?” You nodded slowly, unsure of what she was getting to. She looked over her shoulder, as if to check if anything or anyone was in her house. “If you’d like some help, I ain't got any plans ‘til the evening.” Your heart lept in your chest. Everything about your body’s reaction felt wrong. You could’ve begged this woman for help.

“That would be lovely, actually.” You smiled, trying not to seem as nervous as you felt. Your heart was thumping loudly, you swore you were about to faint. Maybe it was from the heat, women never made you feel this way in the past.

“Let me get myself cleaned up and I'll meet you over there, darlin’.” Her accent was thick. You were going to die. You nodded, smiling, and turned back in the direction of your house. At least you wouldn't have to move alone.

-

Before you knew it, the clock was striking five, and the majority of your furniture had been moved where it needed to go. Sevika did all of it - most of the time you just stood there looking pretty and instructing her where to go. Sevika thoroughly enjoyed it. She noticed the gentle bite of your lip when she lifted something heavy, your eyes tracing down the lines of her arms. You hadn't initially noticed the prosthetic in place of where her left arm should be, but it only made her that much more interesting.

For lunch you made sandwiches and lemonade, forcing her to sit and take a break instead of continuing to work for you. “Y’r just sweet as cane, ain'tcha?” she had said, taking the plate of food. You chose to ignore the rush in your panties.

You both stood in the kitchen and Sevika was breathing heavily, catching her breath after moving a series of dining chairs into your new dining room for you. You came to her, gently tracing your fingertips over her bicep as you pushed up on your toes and kissed her cheek. “Thank you so much, Sevika. I greatly appreciate it,” you said with a soft smile, “and you’re so strong.” You squeezed her arm, taking in a sharp breath at how hard the muscle actually was.

“You’re very welcome, darlin’.” When she smiled, you noticed a gap in her teeth that you hadn’t seen before. It fit her face perfectly.

“Will you let me make you dinner for your trouble?” You turned around, reaching for the single cookbook that you had bothered unpacking, resting on the counter.

“You’ve worked far too hard to be bothered with cookin’ tonight, pretty girl. Why don’t you join me? I’m going to dinner with some friends. You’ll enjoy ‘em.” You pondered for a moment, but the answer was clear. You hadn’t actually wanted to cook, but you would’ve done anything she asked.

“That would be nice. How’s six sound? I should probably clean up.” You gestured down your body at your sweaty clothes. You could already picture what you were going to wear - there was a sundress in a box in your bedroom, maybe you could track down the pair of cowboy boots you wore to a concert once.

“Sounds good, sugarplum. Wear somethin’ pretty for me, yeah?” Heat rose from your chest and crept up your neck, finding home on your cheeks. Sevika didn’t fail to notice, she adored it. No matter what she said to you, you were blushing and stuttering.

You found yourself on Sevika’s front porch at six round, inevitably in the outfit you were thinking of earlier. Your hair was in a loose braid, with a bow at the end, and you believed that you looked cute, but it could be better. Nothing compared to the way Sevika looked at you when you knocked, though.

She was in the same thing she was already wearing, except with a jacket thrown over her white tee, a cowboy hat, and some matching boots. God, you could eat her up. “Did as told, I see.” She nodded towards you, hat dipping with her head. “We’re going to the best bar in town, you ain't got nothin’ to worry about.” She walked out of the house, locking the door behind her and leading you to her car.

“So, Sevika,” you began, once you were settled into your passenger seat. “Do you live alone?” you had wondered, since she gave up her day to assist you and offered to bring you to dinner.

“Yes ma'am,” she responded, small grin painting her face. “Got some livestock ‘nd a dog. ‘s all I need.” You nodded.

“Have you ever been married?” She didn't seem like the type to enjoy marriage, and she wore no ring. Maybe you just couldn't imagine her in a traditional marriage - what kind of man would a woman like her even be interested in?

She chuckled. “Nah, holdin’ out for the right one.” you smiled. Sometimes you wondered if you held out for the right one. You loved your husband, but your love often felt fabricated. Like you had to love him, like a requirement.

She pulled up to the bar, it was a ragly old place, with a crooked sign and some wood falling off, but it was pretty. It read, plainly, The Last Drop, and you wondered where the name came from, or how she came to find this place in the middle of nowhere.

She ushered you in with a large, warm hand on the small of your back, gently directing you towards a table full of people. They already had drinks, and you feared that somehow you made the woman late.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Sevy.” A woman quipped. She wasn't like anything you'd seen before - tall, long blue hair, and tattoos. She was gorgeous, quite a sight. “Who's your lady friend?” The woman looked over at you and winked with a smirk.

“Watch it, Jinx,” she retorted, taking a seat next to a woman with pink hair, and you took the one next to her. She introduced you to the group, and a small blush crept up your cheeks. In order, she introduced everyone around the table. “Jinx and I worked for the same guy a couple years back. He passed, but she still hangs around,” Jinx shot her a look and took a sip of her drink. “Ekko, her husband. Caitlyn and Vi, they're married.” You greeted each of them.

Being with Sevika was something you had never imagined possible. She ordered and paid for your meal and your drinks, and let you get as many as you wanted. You didn't exactly feel like you fit in with her crowd of people, they were a little rowdy and loud, but the company was enjoyable.

It was late when the first couple left - Jinx and Ekko, to go relieve their babysitter. Caitlyn and Vi left soon after, no particular reason. It left you a Sevika, and when she began talking to you, the amount of alcohol in your system finally hit you.

“Sevika,” you slurred, grabbing her arm as you looked up at her, “can I have your hat?”

Her cheeks warmed, dark blush finding home on them. “What’d’ya need my hat for, babygirl?” She chuckled, trying to play off her nervousness. Clearly, you didn't know how hats worked in bars.

“‘s pretty on you,” she was still laughing as she took it off and placed it on your head. And god, you looked good. Thoughts of filth coursed through her mind and she attempted to shut them down, with no luck. You were her married neighbor. She couldn't possibly be thinking of you in the way she was.

“Let's get you home, cowgirl.” She gently grabbed your upper arm, helping you off your stool. When you stumbled, she turned you around, your back facing her front as she grabbed your forearms and helped you walk.

You slumped against her in the car, head resting on her shoulder as sleep drew you in. You didn't get drunk often, but when you did, it always made you tired. Especially after a full day of work.

Your husband's car was in the driveway when you both returned to your neighborhood. Sevika pulled into your new, fancy driveway and quickly came to your side to assist your walk into your house. After a few steps, your husband threw open the front door, anger pouring off of him.

“What the fuck is this?” He yelled at Sevika, who simply looked at him. “What the fuck did you do to my wife?” He ripped you from her arms, making you hunch and your stomach twist. Sevika backed up, hands in the air like she was facing a cop.

“We went out for dinner and she had a couple drinks. I was just bringin’r home.” She insisted. Your husband didn't care - he was livid. In his mind, some woman that he had never seen before got his wife drunk and did god knows what to you.

“Get the fuck off my property and don't fucking come back or I'll shoot you dead.” He spat, dragging you inside. You looked over your shoulder, watching Sevika walk down the driveway, shaking her head. She got in her car and drove home, and that was the last you saw of her.

To your misfortune, you remembered none of what happened the previous night when you awoke. You remembered portions of dinner, some blurry faces, Sevika’s murmured ‘babygirl’, but nothing of the way your husband treated her. And he made no effort to enlighten you as to what happened -

So, for weeks afterward when Sevika avoided you, you had no idea why. You didn’t even know if she was avoiding you on purpose, maybe she was just a busy woman. Maybe the day she spent with you was a one time thing. But, your curiosity brewed every time you saw her at home.

You knew you had too much to drink that night, but you had never taken yourself for a sloppy drunk, or a mean one. That doesn’t mean you couldn’t have said or done something vulgar, but it was out of your character. Maybe she simply didn’t enjoy your company as much as you did hers. There were millions of options, millions of reasons as to why no words had been uttered since that day.

You were growing accustomed to your new life. Your husband went to work every day, occasionally went on a business trip, and you tended to the house. It wasn’t ever what you had thought your life would look like, or wanted your life to look like. But it wasn’t bad. It was relaxing, and allowed you freedoms that you didn’t previously have when you both worked and lived in a small city apartment.

And there was the other part. You were learning to tend to the house so that you were ready for when you were to bear children - something that your husband had insisted was coming soon, and therefore had suggested you begin trying. The night he suggested that was the night the pit in your stomach became unbearable. Trying for a baby? With him? You weren’t sure you were ready for that, or frankly wanted that.

It was a sunny, warm morning when you left to get the mail. Dew had settled in the grass, and the southern air was thick. You were in a nightgown, one of your favorites, that was outlined in lace, a nice pale yellow color. You had panties that matched, clung to your skin underneath the short gown.

Before you could turn to go back up the driveway and into the house, you noticed Sevika’s door opening, and there stood the one and only. She was in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a wifepleaser, slippers finishing the outfit nicely.

“Sevika!” You yelled from across the street, a wide smile as you raised a hand to wave. Her head snapped up from her mail, but before she could hide, you were making your way across the street. She wasn’t getting out of this one. “Sevika, hi! I haven’t seen you around, you must be one busy woman.” You joked. She smiled, demeanor softening.

“You could say that,” She responded awkwardly, knowing damn well she was not a busy woman, especially not if you needed something. “Was there anything else? Don’t need your husband gettin’ all pissy again, ma’am.” Your brows knit, confusion drawing itself on your pretty features.

Fuck. You didn’t know, you couldn’t have possibly known. You were so drunk that night that there was no way you remembered what happened, and now Sevika just dropped the bomb. “Whatever do you mean, Sevika?” God, you drew her in, sweet as honey.

“I best get goin’. Gotta feed the chickens.” She had already fed her chickens today, twice because she was so tired.

“No, Sevika. What do you mean? Did he do something to you?” Sevika sighed, throwing a quick glance towards your house to assure that your husband wasn’t home. His car was missing from the driveway, and that was all she needed to know.

“The night you came out with me you drank a lot, could hardly walk by y’rself. Brought ya home and he got angry, threatened to shoot me if I came near you again. ‘m not tryna get shot anytime soon, sweet thing.” Your lips parted, small gasp falling from them. Sevika prayed she never forgot the noise.

“Sev…” you paused, trying to formulate what you wanted to say to her. “I’m so sorry he did that. His temper can get the best of him sometimes, I promise he’s a good man. We don’t own any guns. How can I apologize?” Sevika envisioned a few ways. “How about dinner? Tomorrow? He’ll be out of town for a couple days, he’s taking the train up north. I’ll cook for you?”

Sevika was blushing. Sevika never blushed. “Miss, you ain’t gotta do all that for me.”

“No, you deserve it. You must come. Tomorrow, six, please?” Your eyes softened as you looked up at her, and she would’ve moved mountains to give you what you wanted in that moment. But luckily, it was a lot easier than that.

“If you insist,” she said with a small smile, “I’ll be there, sugar.” You grinned, clapping your hands twice. “I like steak, if you’re willing.” She swore she saw your smile widen.

“Perfect, I have just the recipe. I can’t wait, I’ll see you tomorrow, Sevika!” You said eagerly, as you began walking back to your house, tossing her a wave over your shoulder.

The longer you thought about it, the more the situation angered you. Sevika was doing you a favor, a noble one at that, just to be treated like shit by the person that was supposed to protect you. Everything she said made the idea of having a child with this man less and less appealing. You hardly acknowledged him when he returned home that night, and hardly bid him farewell when he left in the morning. It was tough to look at him.

It was late afternoon when you got the food in the oven and began getting ready. You didn’t know whether this was formal or not, so you chose something in the middle. You chose a simple half up, half down style, bringing the top of your hair into a pretty bun and leaving the rest down to curl. You did your makeup, then went through your closet, trying to find something that matched the appeal you were trying to convey.

Part of you wanted to put on something that your husband would hate; a pair of jeans and a top, or even something casual. But the other half, and the half that won, begged you to dress yourself in something attractive. Something that would draw her in, making her look at you, in the ways your husband never did.

The thought was terrible, obscene even. You had never even begun to think of someone in the way you were thinking of Sevika now, especially while married. It was awful. And then you remembered what he did to her, what he did to you. How he made you move hundreds of miles from your family and quit your job to play house.

You chose a dress that was shorter than anything you believed to have ever dressed yourself in. It hardly covered your ass, and it was slutty. So very slutty, so unlike you. And you liked it. You liked the way it hugged your figure, made your boobs look fuller and your hips wider.

The dress was strapless and white, coming in at the waist and flaring slightly until it ended. You added a white bow to your bun for good measure, and a pair of white kitten heels that opened at the toe. Confidence was a drug, and you were addicted.

The oven rang moments before Sevika knocked, right on time. You took out the food and set it on the counter, tossing your oven mitts to the side to get the door. When you opened it, Sevika drank you in like a tall glass of wine. Her eyes moved along you slowly, as if she was trying to memorize every dip and curve of your body. She followed the line of your dress, eyes falling on the over-exposure of your thighs, and they paused there for a moment.

And her mind was running wild.

“Hi Sevika,” you greeted, cheeks warmer than they had ever been. This was terrible, disgusting. And it was going the exact way you wanted it to. “You look nice.” She did. She was in black slacks and a white t-shirt with an unbuttoned, short sleeved button-down thrown overtop. It was cropped just the right amount, ending where her slacks began. It had a gorgeous pattern of red and black and white, and it was as if your minds had thought the same, and here you were matching.

“If I’m nice, you must be world-stopping.” She said, taking your hand and placing a gentle kiss to your knuckle. “The food smells great.” Her eyes were addicting. You simply couldn’t draw yourself away, even after it had been several beats since she spoke.

“Do come in,” you opened the door wider and she stepped in, engulfing the doorframe. “I just need to plate the food and we can eat. Feel free to sit.” She did as told, taking a seat at the small table while you plated the food. You placed her plate in front of her, but she was too busy watching the way you worked and moved around the kitchen to bother looking at the food.

“You didn’t have to do all this, sugar. Seems like a lot of work.” You chuckled.

“It’s truly not. If anything, it’s routine. My husband has me staying home now, tending to the house. I cook a lot. You’re the first person I’ve had over in quite some time.” You took your place, smoothing out your dress. Sevika looked surprised at your remark.

“If I had a woman as pretty as you I would take her everywhere. Show’r off to the world.” Your mouth was agape again. Your husband never said things like that to you. It made your skin warm and your stomach flutter.

Realizing that you had been staring at her for a moment, you averted your gaze, dropping it to your plate in embarrassment. “You’re very nice, Sevika. You know how to talk a woman up.” She grinned, leaning back in her chair and spreading her legs into a, somehow, sexy manspread. You never found the way of seating particularly attractive, but when she did it, you had several thoughts about it. Positive ones. Dirty ones.

“It’s working, then?” Your eyes widened, but before you could say anything, she was speaking again. “You should eat, sugar. Food’s gon’ get cold.” She was smirking, and when you looked down at her plate, she was all but finished. You wondered how long you had been entranced by her, if it meant that more than half her food was already gone and you had hardly started.

You ate quickly, almost choking at the rate at which you stuffed your face. She was finished before you, and wasted no time taking her dishes to the sink and beginning to clean them. When you were finished, you shot up, hurrying over to her and gently pushing her to the side. “You’re a guest, you don’t have to clean your own dishes, that’s rude.” You joked, taking her plate from her hands.

“I’m a capable woman, babygirl. I can clean my own plate, I do it every day.” You shooed her hands away as she reached for her plate, until she was grabbing your wrist and pinning you to the counter, human hand holding your wrist while her mechanical arm trapped you against her.

When you looked up at her, your clit started beating. She was looking down at you, low eyes painted with displeasure. “Let me help you, angel. It won’t kill ya.”

The feelings swirling within you were nothing you had ever felt before. Your body was on fire, you were surprised that your wrist wasn’t burning Sevika’s large palm. Her body heat was radiating into you, and you could feel the meat of her thighs against yours, and the curve of her hips as they kissed your own. Your panties were wet, your thighs were sticky, but you were sure it was sweat.

“Sevika…” You whispered, but any additional thoughts were cut off by the harsh press of her lips to yours, the force pushing you against the sink even harder. Your eyes widened for a second, but quickly fluttered closed as your body accepted what was happening and leaned into it. You  pushed off the sink, pressing your front against hers. She let go of your wrist and your hands found purchase on her neck, pulling at her short hair.

She moaned softly into your mouth, grabbing your hip with her human hand and pushing your hips against the sink so your back arched a little further, tits pushed against hers. Her lips attacked yours, tongue dipping into your mouth and sucking, pulling noises out of you that you had never heard before.

You pulled away, admiring her flushed face and swollen lips. She was breathing heavily, and the look on her face dropped into terror as she realized what she had done. “I’m so sorry, ma’am.” She backed up, releasing you from your spot against the sink. “Gods,” she rubbed her hands over her face, “I just kissed a married woman in her husband’s home. I should leave.”

“Don’t.” You came to where she was standing, softly grabbing her wrists and pulling her hands away from her face. She was scared, looking at you. Scared of what could happen. Scared of how it would be if it didn’t happen.

Slowly, cautiously, you pressed up on your toes and pulled her in for another kiss. And she was lost. Gone, forever. There was no returning from this.

She grabbed your ass, lifting you easily onto the counter as she continued kissing you. Her body was hard and hot and calling you, and the way she dragged her hands up and down your waist, carefully flicking her thumb over your nipple made your panties drenched. “Do that again,” you whined, arching your tits towards her.

“Do what, sugar?” She played coy, letting her hands rest on your waist. “This?” She ran her human hand up your side and flicked her thumb over your nipple again, craving the moan that fell from your lips. “Tell me, sugar, was it this?” She pulled the top of your dress down slowly, giving you time to interject. But you didn’t, and she made quick work of removing your bra.

She left wet, hot kisses down your chest, lips latching around your nipple. She sucked hard, making you cry out and grind your hips in the air. She could’ve made a snarky comment about that, she desperately wanted to, but the way your body reacted to her mouth on your perky nipple was too compelling.

Once she had given both of your tits equal attention, she stood back up and met your eyes. “Y’r gonna have to tell me where this is goin’, baby. ‘m not goin’ any further until you tell me with words.” Your head fell against her chest, panting.

“Please, please fuck me, Sev.” With a soft ‘fuck’, she lifted you off the counter, your legs locking around her hips. She carried you down the hall with your instruction, kicking the door closed and locking it before placing you on the bed, gingerly.

“Let’s get you out of this dress, mama.” She pulled it down, waiting for you to lift your hips so she could finish the job. Before she could admire you, you were grabbing her by her t-shirt and pulling her on top of you, kissing her once again. Nothing in the world was better than this.

“Sevika,” you moaned as her mouth was reunited with your boobs. “Take off your shirt.” She did as instructed, losing her button down and t-shirt in a few short motions. It left her in her slacks and a sports bra, a great look for her. She stood at the end of the bed, and she grabbed your ankle to pull you down with her. Your ass was on the edge of the bed, and your legs were propped up, spread wide.

“Fuck,” she looked over your body, then threw her head back and shut her eyes. This was wrong. It was awful. You’re married. But the way your panties sat high on your hips and had a noticeable wet spot in the middle was enough to waiver her thoughts.

“Sevika,” you said, weakly. “What do we.. do? I’ve never done this with a woman.” She chuckled a little, sinking to her knees at the edge of the bed, so that her face was level with your cunt. You could feel her warm breath against you, and it made you shiver.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy, angel. What happens next is up to you. But I need my face in y’r pussy.” She looked up at you as she painted your thighs with kisses, occasionally stopping to suck on the skin. She was careful, she didn’t leave any marks, but she adored having your skin in her mouth. She adored having you in her mouth.

You weren’t prepared for her first lick against your cunt. She licked a fat strip from bottom to top over your panties, and you reeled, arching into it and bringing your legs together. She placed both of her hands on the insides of your thighs, forcing them apart. “You’re gonna keep these open for me, ain’tcha, sugar?” Weakly, you nodded, relaxing and allowing your legs to fall apart.

She continued eating you over your panties, sucking at your clit until you weren’t sure what was from you and what was her spit, everything was drenched. She sat up, reaching for the waistband of your panties. Instinctively, you lifted your hips, and she smirked as she pulled them down. “Good job, darlin’, knew exactly what I needed.” Your stomach flipped, and you were sure you were dripping.

Sevika was looking at you like you were prey and she hadn’t eaten in a month. Your cunt was glistening, and you were practically dripping onto the bed. And it was all for her. “Well, you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, mama.” You whimpered, entrance clenching at her words, and she could fucking see it. See the way your body reacted to her. She could’ve died a happy woman, right then and there.

She was on her knees again in an instant, tongue finding your clit and sucking. She did all sorts of magical things; twisted her tongue around the bud, flicked it with her tongue, sucked like something would come out if she did. You were practically crying at what she did, it was overwhelming.

Your husband had eaten you out before, several times. He claimed to like it, but it was never quite right. It was never like this. Not when Sevika placed a kiss on your clit and slipped her tongue in you, wasting no time fucking you with her tongue. Her mech hand came up and pinched your nipple, the cool metal feeling like heaven against your overheated skin.

“Sevika,” you cried, fingers winding in her hair as her tongue worked. You were getting close, she could tell. Your clit was twitching and you were clenching around her tongue, but she kissed her way back to your clit and pressed a cautionary finger against your entrance. “Sev, fuck, Sevika, please fill me up, please,” Sevika let out a deep moan into your cunt, her own clit begging for attention.

She kept her mech hand on your nipple while she slowly slid her middle finger into you, stretching you more than your husband’s fingers ever did. She took it slow, going knuckle by knuckle until you bottomed out on her finger. She didn’t rush you, letting you adjust to the feeling of her thick digit inside you before moving.

The feeling of her tongue on your clit and her finger against your g-spot had you crying and whining, begging her for more, more, more, until she gave it to you. She introduced another finger into the mix, letting her ring finger enter you at the same pace as the other.

Two fingers and her tongue must be heaven. She knew exactly what to do, and you were absolutely going to cum. Over and over, at that. She lifted up for a moment, not relenting with her pace. “Come for me, darlin’. Let me have it.”

The knot in your stomach released and all the tension in your muscles relaxed, letting your orgasm flow through your body. Your back arched off the bed and you gripped her hair tightly, the waves of pleasure more intense than any you’d felt before. She made sure she had you coming for as long as she could, unrelenting in her pace until she had milked every drop from you.

You were panting, and you let out a practically pornographic whine when she retracted her fingers from you and stood up, leaning over you. “Open y’r mouth, baby. Stick out your pretty tongue.” Her fingers were quick to breach your lips once your mouth was open, and you shut it around them, sucking your cum off her digits.

Her clit hurt. It was beating so hard, and watching you suck her fingers just made her go even more crazy. She pushed your limits, forcing her fingers further down her throat to see how much you could take. And to her surprise, you took them to the base with no problem, and it made her desperate to see her strap down your throat. “That’s my good girl, ain’t it? Suckin’ me so good.” You moaned, but it was muffled around her fingers.

The hat resting on your closet door handle caught her eye, and a malicious idea bloomed in her. “I want you to ride me, angel. Needa’ come on your pussy.” You sat up, watching her as she grabbed her hat from the closet handle. She tossed it to you and unbuckled her pants, pulling them from her body inch by inch until you got to see all of her. Her boxers came off next, and it was such a sight.

She plopped down on the bed, and you looked at her expectantly, waiting for further instruction. Her legs spread, and she lifted one of them to make space between them for you. You made assumptions, hovering between her legs and glancing over at her. “Ride me, cowgirl. Go until you feel good.”

It took some maneuvering for you to find an angle that worked for both you and Sevika, but when it did, it was earth shattering. Her clit against yours felt like you had been blessed by God, and her wetness seeping into yours felt like she could get you pregnant. She was groaning beneath you, humping you like some kind of fucking dog, and it was the best thing ever.

She reached over and grabbed her hat, placing it on your head. “That’s it, that’s my cowgirl, ain’t it? Fuck, you ride me so well, baby.” You came down harsher against her, the feeling too good to be slow or soft.

“Nnghh- vika,” that is what got Sevika over the edge. Hearing you moan that nickname like a fucking pornstar had her gripping your hips and holding you in place as she fucked up into you and came all over you, whimpering like a bitch in heat. A string of curses fell from her pretty lips before she released your hips and let you chase your second orgasm, one that had you falling onto her chest, unable to move from your fucked out muscles.

After a couple minutes she gently brushed your hair away from your face, admiring your beauty.  You groaned softly, sitting up on your elbow to meet her eyes. “That was really good.” You said, softly. “What if you stay the night?” Sevika shook her head, crawling out of the bed.

“‘m sorry, sweet thing. I don’t feel right stayin’ here after fuckin’ you. ‘s not fair to y’r husband.” You pouted, remembering his existence, to your misfortune. Sudden emotions flooded you as you watched Sevika dress; you just cheated on your husband, and had sex with a woman. Not just any woman - your neighbor. That you would have to see, every day, for the rest of your time living in this neighborhood.

She pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and you let your eyes flutter shut, you let yourself enjoy it before it was wrong. “Bye, Sevika. I’ll see you at happy hour next week?” She smiled softly, knowing she would do anything and everything in her power to be there for you.

“Absolutely, babygirl.” And with that, she was gone.

lmk if you wanna be tagged in future parts!

[gallusrostromegalus]

I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.

-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a

~*Spiritual Experience*~

I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.

Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.

He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only BARELY enough space for the fireworks and certainly none for his truck.

So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand. This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.

He begins, and this is crucial to what happens next, by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it unsecured on his lawn.

Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.

His process for unloading the fireworks is to 1. Climb up through the gate into the bed of his pickup truck (a feat made unusually difficult due to the slope of his driveway, and this man's fascinating decision to wear the world's Siffest and least Flexible Denim Overalls. 2. Once in the pickup bed, he selects ONE (1) box from the pile He is apparently from a niche religious institution that doesn't believe in stacking things. 3. Carries it awkwardly around the palette that barely fits in the truck bed 4. His wife yells "Be careful!" when he nearly falls out of the pickup. 5. He Yells "SHADDUP!" back at her. 6. The Large German Shepherd barks from inside the house. 7. He yells "SHADDUP!" back at her too. 8. He sets the (1) box down on the gate 9. Slowly and awkwardly climbs out of the pickup bed 10. picks the box back up, and carries it into the garage.

Question: Aren't you going to help this poor man? Answer: Absolutely Not.

There's four military veterans, MANY dogs, and several people with dementia in this neighborhood, all of whom are terrified by this chicanery every year and many neighbors have repeatedly asked him to maybe do the fireworks somewhere else. (This is the Eighth Year Running he's held a major demolition event in his driveway, and for those of you who can do math, you may be able to guess the precipitating incident to this little ritual) Additionally, I live in Colorado, a state marginally less prone to spontaneous and catastrophic conflagrations than a rotting grain silo, but only marginally. Our recreational explosives laws are written accordingly.

I am in fact calling the Non Emergency line to report Fireworks violations, and reading off the brand labels to someone named Dorothy, who is gleefully totaling up a SPECTACULAR fine for my oblivious neighbor.

However, while I'm on the phone with Dorothy, I notice the wind begin to pick up. and by "Notice" I mean "The Industrial Saran Wrap he left on his Lawn earlier is suddenly swept up about 100 feet into the air by an updraft intense enough to make my ears pop" And by "Pick Up" I mean "I look up to see the sky has turned a fun and exciting shade of glass green, and the bottoms of the clouds are bumpy and rounded, and the overall effect is not unlike looking up through the bottom of the cup at God's Matcha Boba Tea."

For those of you who do not live in places with Inclement Weather, these conditions mean "You have about 30 seconds before a Major Meteorological Event Occurs."

I move under the eaves. "Hang on Dorothy." I say, nose filling with Petrichor. "The show is about to be cancelled." "Oh, that doesn't matter!" Dorothy cheerfully informs me. "It's illegal for him just to possess those, no matter if he actually gets to set them off or not." "Terrific, because he's gotten maybe five boxes out of a hundred inside."

Sometimes, the weather gods are Merciful and give you a verbal warning, typically in the kind of thunderclap that makes your ears ring.

The Gods were not merciful today.

It's not often that I am in the time, place, correct angle or in a properly observational frame of mind to see this, But I got to see it today. Huh. I thought. I've never seen a cloud just DIVE for the ground before. Oh. I realized as it got closer. That's RAIN.

Sometimes, a thunderstorm will form in such a way that the rain that would normally be distributed over an area of say, five to tent square miles, is instead concentrated into an area of say, my neighborhood exactly.

So today, I was granted the rare privilege of being able to actually see the literal wall of water descend from On High and DIRECTLY onto my porch, my street, and my neighbor's truck, and his pile of unwrapped fireworks.

The sheer impact force of the downpour immediately scatters the teetering pile of fireworks boxes in the back of the truck, like the wrath of God striking down the tower of Babel. Boxes tumble, then are washed out of the bed of the truck by the deluge. Smaller Boxes are carried down the road in a little line by the stream forming in the gutter, like little impotent explosive ducklings.

My neighbor was definitely yelling something, but I could not hear what over the DEAFENING noise several million gallons of water makes upon high-speed contact with the earth's surface, but there was a lot of arm-waving and faces turning red as he went looking for the saran wrap that had probably blown to Nebraska by now, while his wife started disassembling the complex three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking material goods in search of a tarp. They do not have a tarp. They have one of those wretched Thin Blue Line flags though, and my neighbor jogs out in a futile effort to cover what's left in the truck.

Which is when the hail begins.

"HELLO?" Yelled Dorothy. "HI!" I shouted. "WE'RE HAVING SOME WEATHER!" "OH GOOD!" she shouts back. "WE NEED THE MOISTURE!"

I watch for a minute longer, but the loss was immediate and catastrophic- the hail is the size of marbles and dense and cares not for your pitiful cardboard and cellophane, ripping the boxes asunder and punching holes in the few things covered in plastic. The colors on the Thin Blue Line Flag are seeping all over the remains of that it was supposed to protect in a particularly apt visual metaphor. Not even the few boxes that made it into the garage are spared, as the German Shepherd escapes from indoors, and in an attempt to assist her humans, jumps directly into the small stack of not-yet-ruined boxes, scattering them into the driveway and deluge. She even picks one up so her humans will chase her around the yard, before dropping it in the gutter to be swept away.

So. I was raised Agnostic -but even I can recognize when God slaps someone upside the head and shouts "NO!" at them.

---

(If you laughed, please consider supporting my Ko-fi or preordering my book of Strange Stories on Patreon)

[pencil-n-pen]

I WANT AN INNOCENT LOVE

.☘︎ ݁˖

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alexandria! rick grimes x fawn! fem! reader

masterlist | kofi

summary: you’re a new addition to alexandria. Rick’s just looking out for his group. That’s the only reason he finds himself drawn to you. Nothing else.

cw: LEGAL age gap (it is big, i imagine reader in her early 20s) canon typical depictions of violence, Rick is kinda mean to reader at first, Rick kind of struggles with the age gap a little, dom! Rick, slight possessive rick

tags/tropes: shy and skittish reader, she’s not used to dealing with people but she’s not helpless, honestly she’s just a sweet and soft person who became what everyone becomes in the apocalypse, hurt/comfort, insecurity, touch-starved reader a bit, YEARNING, no saviors or whisperers just Rick and everyone living happily in alexandria. Daryl is also here and he’s kind of like ur uncle bc i love daryl and i say so

a/n: i have nothing to say other than this is so insanely self indulgent it’s not even funny. nobody asked for this but writing it has kept me sane while i’m couch ridden. everything is terrible rn but rick grimes <3333

songs i listened to while writing: We'll Never Have Sex by Leith Ross, Work Song by Hozier (Rick's theme song) you were mine by Esha Tewari, Do I Wanna Know- Hozier's Cover, Somethin' Stupid by Nancy & Frank Cinatra, Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley (i'm so not normal about that entire album) Under Your Spell by Snow Strippers, Little Bit by Lykke Li (the original not the remix)

title taken from Under Your Spell by Snow Strippers

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You were just a little thing when you showed up at the gates.

All wide-eyed and skittish at the tree-line, clothes hanging awkwardly off your frame. Scuffed and dirty, when Rick goes up to the tower to scout you out.

You don’t quite come close enough for anyone to get any kind of information on you. Name, age, where you’ve been, what you’re doing at the gates.

These are all questions Rick, as leader, needs answers to.

If he could just convince you to get close enough.

Under different circumstances, he’d just let you do whatever it is you’re planning on doing, but the lurking is starting to make people uneasy. And he figured he ought to do something to ease their concerns. Easiest way is to either get you inside the walls or find answers to those questions.

You’re real good at staying out of reach, though. And you never stay in one place for long. By the time two weeks have gone by, you’ve made it around the entire length of the walls. Just to end up right where you started: the gates.

It’s just past the crack of dawn- dew is still lingering on the plants and grass and the sun’s rays have yet to actually provide warmth. Rick is up, making his rounds and checking in when one of the guards on rotation lets him know that you’re at the gates. Only time you’ve ever been that close.

So they’re opened, and you amble in— light-footed and unsure. Honestly, you remind him a bit of Daryl with your obvious hesitance to be in the company of other people and clear inclination towards nature. But where Daryl is hard edges and reclusiveness, you’re… softer.

A small group of people —curious onlookers, mostly— forms behind Rick as he saunters towards you, and he watches the moment you see the reality of your decision and begin to regret it.

He comes to a stop a few feet away from you, letting the silence hang in the air for a bit.

He finally takes you in with his own two eyes, without the aid of the binoculars, and he examines. Catalogs the nervous twitch of your hands and scuffs and scrapes he can see on the visible scraps of skin. Eyes the way you worry your lip between your teeth and can’t decide if you’re going to keep staring at him or look away- your mind clearly torn between vigilance and submission.

“You finish your tour of Alexandria?” He asks dryly.

You blink up at him, eyes wide. “Are you the leader of this safe-zone?”

He nods. “Sure am.”

You begin fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly. The small motion draws his attention back to your hands, where me notices bandaids practically covering the entire surface of your skin. He files the information away in his head for later.

“Are you currently accepting new members?”

He can’t help but crack a smile at your question. The way you phrase it and your nervous demeanor remind him so much of the times before the dead started walking— you look like a college student looking for a job, not somebody trying to find refuge here, after the end of the world.

“Depends,” He rests his hands on his hips, and he notes the way your eyes dart to the gun at his side before back up to him, “You got any skills to offer? You alone? Or do you got a group waitin’ for you?”

Your lip is raw from where you release it from your teeth.

“I’m really good at mending. I’m a proficient hunter. I can hold my own in a fight. And I’m alone.”

At the admittance of your lack of company, you shift back a few steps, a subtle re-distribution of weight.

Ain’t been socialized a whole bunch, Rick thinks to himself. He’s willing to bet you either don’t have a lot of positive experiences with large groups of people or you just plain ain’t been around em’ much.

He hums. “You killed anybody?”

“Walkers or live?”

“Either.”

You shift your shoulders. He’s starting to wonder just how many nervous actions you have.

“I don’t think anybody lives alone who hasn’t killed walkers.”

“And the living?”

You don’t move, but your eyes look to the ground, not at him.

Shame. Fear.

“Twice.”

“How come?”

“They wanted my supplies. Wanted me dead. I decided I didn’t want to die.”

He looks you over again. You really are a cute little thing. He thinks, absentmindedly in the back of his head, that something like you shouldn’t have bloody, bandaid covered hands. Shouldn’t have a kill count.

But he dismisses the thought. The end of the world leaves no room for those unwilling to do what’s necessary.

He dips his head. “We’ll get you settled in,” He jerks his head to the some of the guys behind him. “They’ll get you sorted out. Get along, now.”

You slink past him, distance carefully measured as you go.

Your eyes don’t quite leave him, though. There’s a moment- either you pause or his mind slows. Maybe a bit of both. But the air stills, and your gaze locks on him for the first time since he saw you, nestled in that tree line. The memory is clear and vivid- the sun shining through the trees, dappling you in shades of amber and grey. And then he’s here, and you’re looking up at him, eyelashes fluttering, and the sun has risen just enough that it casts a similar glow, the only difference now he can see up close just how the light catches on your face, just how he knows your features would look so different, so much softer if you were cleaned, if someone minded the cuts and scrapes.

And then you step away, and he snaps out of his reverie. He blinks a few times at your retreating form, shakes his head, and then busy’s himself with other work. There’s always something to be done.

But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get the image of you gazing up at him, bathed in the early morning sun out of his mind.

—

A few days pass, and Rick sees little of you. He’s almost positive it’s on purpose. The few times he does see you, you look scared. And then, generally, you manage to make some sort of fleet-footed escape. The repeated spotting and fleeing reminds him of the time he accompanied Daryl on a hunt and startled a doe.

He can’t quite figure out why you’re afraid of him, though. He remembers being fairly decent to you when you arrived, and tried coaxing you towards the gates politely before you’d shown up on your own.

The sight of your scared expression ends up stuck fast in his head, usually super-imposed over the image of you on that morning at the gates. Two different versions of you, neither making any sort of sense.

He decides that it’s probably best that he stick away, if he scares you. You’ll settle, your ruffled feathers’ll smooth.

And he’ll stop thinking about you.

—

Neither do you settle or does he stop thinking about you.

He watches you from a distance, careful. You just… don’t relax. Ever. You creep away from every possible opportunity to connect with others like it might grow jaws and bite- you shrink back or freeze. Like you think if you play dead, if you don’t move, they’ll leave you alone.

He’s wondering what you hoped to accomplish by seeking refuge in Alexandria if this is how you act. You’re going to have a bad go of things if this is your plan. Or maybe you plain haven’t even thought that far.

He snags Daryl’s arm as he passes by.

“Wha—“

“The new girl,” Is all Rick says, still watching you remarkably avoid everyone who passes you. “She’s real skittish.”

Daryl follows his eyeline, finding you easy enough.

“Mm. She ain’t settlin’?”

“No.”

Daryl just hums again. “Well, she ain’t got nobody, does she?”

“So?”

The hunter shrugs. “Can’t relax. Ain’t got nobody to watch her back, take a watch. She’ll settle. Might take her a bit of time.”

Rick huffs. “She’s afraid of me.”

“No she ain’t,” Daryl snorts, “And since when does Rick Grimes care whether other people like him well enough?”

Rick doesn’t respond, just keeps watching you.

Daryl follows Rick’s gaze, then breathes out a low sigh.

“She is a pretty little thing, ain’t she?”

“That is not what this is about.”

Daryl levels him with a look. “Sure it’s not.“

“She’s half my age. I could damn well be her father.”

“But ya ain’t.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“Then what is the point, Rick?” Daryl sighs again, crossing his arms. “Either do something about it or move on. You got too many people dependin’ on ya for you to be eyeing up flighty young girls.”

Rick rolls his shoulders. “You make me out to be such a creep.”

The other man claps him on the shoulder. “Then stop acting like one.”

He attempts to take Daryl’s advice to heart. It’s an annoying truth that Daryl always knows exactly what Rick needs to hear. Not necessarily what he wants to hear, but what needs to be said.

And he is being creepy. He shakes his head as he walks away. Watching you, thinking about you. He can’t. That’s— you’re too young to be thinking any kind of thing like that.

No matter how there’s this half second, before you look scared, where you almost look relieved. No matter how he wants to personally take care of the bumps and scrapes on your face, wants to take off the bandaids and examine what’s beneath them.

Daryl was right. He needs to focus. Carl, Judith, everyone- they need him.

You’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

—

You’ve gone missing.

Rick has been doing his best to heed Daryl’s advice— he stopped looking for you in the crowds, stopped trying to figure you out, stopped watching you from afar. He even made a fairly decent attempt to stop thinking about you. Not that the effort proves especially fruitful, but he tried, damnit.

All of those efforts go straight out the window when Daryl tells him that no one’s seen you since yesterday.

It takes him two seconds to grab his gun and follow Daryl out the door.

He barely remembers to tell Carl where he’s going, which scares him, because he doesn’t quite understand what’s been so invasive to his mind and day-to-day activities about you. Your eyes, the soft curve of your cheek, how you might feel in his hands.

They cloud his judgment. Make him do stupid reckless things like search Alexandria high and low for any sign of you.

He doesn’t find any. He searches the place you’re staying— nothing. Only sign of life is the unmade bed and bandaid wrappers in the trashcan by the bed.

He sighs deep and low as he stands over your bed. “Think she had enough? High-tailed it?”

Daryl leans against the doorway. “Nah. She likes it here well enough. She ain’t stupid enough to leave a good thing like this.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve spoken to her?”

Daryl shrugs. “Few times. She don’t like talkin’ too much, but I think she figures her and I similar.”

“She wrong?”

He scratches his beard. “A little. She fears situations and people the way a prey animal does. S’ why she’s a runner.”

Rick mulls Daryl’s words over as they scan the rest of the place but, of course, find nothing. There are no signs that you, specifically, live here. Nothing personal. Just the unmade bed and the bandaid wrappers in the trashcan.

The pair of them turn the entirety of Alexandria over in a matter of hours. He’s just about to call it quits, either wait for you to come back or send out a search in the morning when Daryl comes back over, telling him you’re at the gates.

As in, outside of them.

Opposite of how things went when you first showed up at the gates, people clear a path as he stalks towards you. They give the pair of you a nice, wide bubble. Even Daryl stays a few feet behind him.

The first thing he notices is that you’re covered in blood. From the way you’re holding yourself, most of it isn’t your own. There’s a backpack slung over your shoulder, but it’s not your usual one.

You won’t meet his eyes.

He stops an arms length away from you. “Where the hell were you?”

You shift backwards, away from him ever so slightly. “Scavenging.”

“Mhm, interestin’,” He says, rubbing his jaw, “Because the last scavenging party was yesterday. And you came back with everybody, so I’ll ask again. Where were you.”

Your eyes flick up from the ground for a moment, eying the people that have gathered to stare. He watches you mentally count them all, then attempt to put more distance between yourself and everybody else. Emphasis on attempt, because the second you take a step back, you stumble, wincing before righting yourself and going right back to scanning the crowd.

He works his jaw, anger and annoyance simmering just under the surface of his skin. He’s not going to get anything out of you here.

He grabs your wrist and turns, set in the direction of the medics.

He drags you along behind him, ignoring the little huffs or sharp intakes of pain when you walk a little too hard or too fast on your bad ankle.

You trip a few times as you go, and when you almost take Rick down with you, he sighs, pausing and turning.

The expression you give him is full of fear. He realizes, in the moment, that you might not remember where the medics are, so as far as you know, he’s angry at you and dragging you to a secluded area.

Guilt strikes him hard and fast, right in his chest.

Damn.

It’s too early to feel guilty about the random girl he allowed into Alexandria. Frightened eyes and shy nature aside.

He shakes his head once. “We’re going to see a doctor. Here, put your arm around me.”

He has to lower himself a little for you to drape your arm across the back of his neck. Your fingertips brush his shoulder, and he can feel the way you’re shaking.

It’s slow going from then on, with Rick acting as your crutches.

“Where were you? And don’t bullshit me.”

“Scavenging.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” You nudge the backpack still strapped to your back. “I was… looking for something. I can’t look for it with the others.”

“What the hell is it that you can’t look for it with the others?”

“A body.”

Your response hangs in the air, thick and heavy.

“…Family or friend?”

“Friend. Haven’t found her yet.”

Something clicks into place in his mental file about you. He feels like he just gained a new piece of the puzzle.

He readjusts your weight over his shoulder, tucking you a little closer and steadfastly pretending he doesn’t hear the little gasp you let out at the contact. Whether it was from pain or surprise, he can’t let himself think about it.

“Don’t go out by yourself. If you need to look, take Daryl with you.”

You sag a bit into him. “Okay.”

He glances down at you from the corner of his eye. You’re… pliant. You’d agreed quickly, and showed absolutely no fight or unwillingness when he, admittedly, manhandled you. You’d followed dutifully behind him and then simply allowed him to position your arms the way he wanted them.

There’s another little parasite that burrows into his brain right there. Right as he’s got you in his grip.

He slows to a stop, a little question forming in his head. He slips the arm that had been wrapped around your waist away, instead curls his fingers across your chin and jaw. He tilts your head up, looks down at your face, searching it for… something.

He meets no resistance. You only stare up at him, doe eyes blinking. He tilts your head to the left, then to right, and still, nothing.

Huh.

He lets go, and you shudder, a full body shiver. And he thinks, in this moment, that he could do whatever he wanted, and you might let him. He could break you, like this.

It’s a very dangerous thing, he decides. Because he doesn’t want to break you. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He wants to peel back the bandaids and see what’s under them. He wants to scrub the dirt from your face and give you soft clothes —his clothes— not those tattered rags that hang off your body.

You might let him do whatever he wants, but you’re the one who holds this power over him. You’re the one who made him sick— filled his head and clouded his judgement and made him the kind of man he never used to be.

But he can’t say any of that. Can’t even act on it. Not with someone young enough to be his daughter. He has a daughter for Christ’s sake. And a son.

So he just wraps his arm back around your waist and helps you to the medics.

—

“Rick,” Daryl says one afternoon, leaned on the post on the porch, “You’re drivin’ me crazy, here.”

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to help with that.”

“The fawn.”

He raises an eyebrow. “The fawn?”

“You know. That nervous little thing you keep pretendin’ you don’t want in your bed.”

“Daryl.”

The man just keeps fiddling with his crossbow. “What?”

“I can’t just— she’s half my age.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I got kids to think about, and—“

“Carl don’t give a shit and Judith is ten. Only thing she’s concerned about is sneakin’ sweets.”

He entertains the notion in his head, thinks about what pursuing you might be like.

Something occurs to him.

“She ever get close to you?”

“No,” Daryl huffs, always knowing exactly what Rick means, “Keeps about an arm’s distance away. No matter what. She’s been inchin’ closer recently, but not by much.”

His hand on your face, moving it this way and that without any resistance at all, your body pliant in his grip—

“Hm,” Is all Rick says, crossing his arms.

“Why fawn?”

Daryl shrugs. “Looks like one. Kinda acts like one, around you.”

“No she doesn’t.”

Daryl levels him with a look. “Yes, she does. And based on the way you’ve been actin’, you like it.”

He opens his mouth to refute the point because no, he doesn’t like it, he just constantly thinks about how far he could take it, what you would let him do, if he could make you his.

And then he thinks ‘oh.’ Maybe he does like it.

He drops his hands to his hips. “What exactly am I supposed to do, then?”

“I don’t know. Ain’t my area of expertise.”

“You’re the one who knows her better, said I was drivin’ you crazy.”

“So? I don’t know jack shit about romance, Rick.”

“Well, you keep calling her a fawn. How different can it be?”

Very different, his mind supplies. You know that.

Now it’s Daryl’s turn to sigh. “Don’t overwhelm her. She’s a nervous little thing, but she likes you. Once she figures out you ain’t gonna hurt her, she’ll latch on.”

“That’s specific. You deal with fawns a lot?”

He snorts. “No. I’m fuckin’ guessin’ here.”

The two men fall into silence, Daryl fiddling or cleaning his bow— Rick ain’t paying that much attention to him.

He’s thinking about you. You, you, you. Your eyes and your face and your hands and the figure you carefully keep hidden under layers of clothing, even under the hot Virginia sun.

Fawn, he thinks to himself.

Fitting.

—

He doesn’t make a plan or something stupid like that. He just thinks. And then he decides.

“You’re really coming with us?” Glenn asks, pack slung over his shoulder.

“Yep,” Rick says, holstering his gun, “Goin’ stir crazy in there. Just needa get out for a bit.”

You’re quiet as you get your things in order, but the group doesn’t bat an eye. They’re used to your silence, it seems.

You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from him, though. You look away every time you think he’s looking at you, but he’s good at looking at you out of the corner of his eye, so he sees it.

Throughout the run, you hover near him, never quite going out of range of his field of vision. He’s impressed by how quietly and efficiently you work- you spot things even he wouldn’t have. All the while watching for walkers, and of course, subtly eyeing Rick.

Despite being the leader, he heads up the back and watches for stragglers. He didn’t really come out cause he was stir-crazy, anyway.

He came out for you. He wanted to watch you work, wanted to do it with you.

To your credit, you work well with the others. You’re a woman of few words with them, but you help where you can and stay civil. Even if you don’t quite get close to any of them.

Except Rick.

As they’re scavenging an abandoned house, a few walkers shuffle out from the trees. Not enough to be a problem— the group outnumbers them easy. But you’re all busy getting supplies and he’s trying to keep an eye out, so he takes them out, one by one.

It really isn’t a huge thing for him, couple walkers ain’t really a big deal, but you notice.

Your eyes are trained on him, clothes now dirty with blood and gore.

He tilts his head, then makes his way over to you.

“You, um,” You say as he gets closer, voice a little hoarse, “Are you alright?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m fine. It’ll take more than a few walkers to take me out.”

You blink. “Oh.”

He snorts a little laugh. “You ain’t too good at this whole conversation thing, huh?”

You flush, looking away. “Sorry. I’m just not… used to having them.”

You look up at him, earnest. “But I’ve been practicing!”

Oh, lord have mercy over his poor soul. You’ve done a full 180– turned from being afraid of him to very obviously wanting his approval.

“That’s good, that’s good. Who you been practicin’ with?”

“Daryl.”

“Now, that ain’t no good.”

You frown, shifting in place. “It’s not?”

“Well, it’s good that you’re tryin’,” He amends, “But Daryl ain’t good for conversation practicin’. He’s a little too much like you. Much too inclined to just sit in silence.”

“Oh.”

You pause, taking your lip between your teeth and mulling something over in your head.

“Would you, um.” You look up at him, clearly nervous.

And he can’t help himself really, from leaning down into your space a bit, a low “Hmm?” humming from his chest.

Your reaction is instant. This close, he can see the exact moment a flush crawls across your face, to even the tips of your ears.

And he’d suspected, you know, based on your behavior with him. But this— cold hard evidence that he makes you nervous. That you want him on you.

It’s cute. Real cute.

You steel yourself against your own nervousness, and he wants to coo at you.

“Would you practice with me?”

He leans back against the post, slides his hands into his pockets. “Course. Ain’t much to it.”

You smile. It’s small, a quiet sort of thing, but it’s there. He made you smile.

You gesture to the house behind you. “I’m. Gonna go back to scavenging. Um. Thanks.”

You turn on your heel, fleeing back into the house. He watches you go, something settling right into place in his chest.

You stick a little closer to him for the rest of the run.

—

After that day, you begin seeking him out. You don’t approach him right away, preferring to to trail behind him for a little bit before finally making a move.

The move being a quiet: “Hi, Rick.”

Today’s no different, other than it being a little later when you do find him. He’s taking a little stroll around, as is his usual. It… settles him, to see everything alright with his own two eyes.

Settles him even more when he hears the quiet patter of your footsteps behind him.

He chuckles. “Afternoon, darlin’.”

Your foot steps speed up, fall into step somewhat beside him. “Hi, Rick.”

“Hi,” He says, smile tugging at his lips. “How was your day?”

You clasp your hands behind your back as you walk. “Good. Weren’t many walkers on today’s run. I got something for Judith.”

“Oh? Let’s see it, then.”

You take something out of your pocket and hold it out to him.

It’s a pocket knife. One of those multi-tool ones.

And it’s pink.

“I know it’s a cliche, the girls knife being pink, and she is only ten, but I saw it and I thought of her, and—“

“It’s perfect,” He interrupts before you can start spiraling. “She’s gonna love it.”

You deflate almost instantly. “Oh, good. I wasn’t sure.”

You walk for a few minutes before remembering the point of you coming up to him.

“Um. How was your day?”

He huffs a little, too fond to be upset. “Fairly decent. Ain’t got too much going on now.”

“That’s… good?”

He shrugs. “Just a little borin’. How’s that ankle of yours?”

This is usually how your conversations go. A few easy, back and forth questions. Easing you into talking to people, keeping conversations going. You’ve slowly gotten more confident. You talk a little longer, voice sounds a little more expressive.

“Fine.” You say, a little too quickly.

He narrows his eyes. “Really? No pain at all?”

It’s the looking away that sells it. You never look at him when you’re lying. Can’t stand to.

“No. It’s fine.”

He kicks his foot out a little, the toe of his boot just barely catching your ankle.

It’s a little more effective than he wanted. You let out a little yelp of pain and stumble forward, ankle almost immediately buckling.

He darts forward, catching you under the stomach with one arm.

You hang there a little, arms dangling.

“Fine, huh?” He hefts you up, so you’re back to standing upright, though now, visibly favoring your ankle. “So what’d the doctor tell you when I dropped you off?”

“Rest, ice, compression, and elevation.”

“And which of those four have you been ignorin’?”

“…”

“Hey,” He says, tapping the side of your jaw with two fingers. “Don’t lie to me.”

“All of them,” You wince, “I just didn’t want to be useless. I can walk on it fine. You haven’t even noticed until now!”

Your voice goes a little high at the end, a little desperate.

He thinks about how animals that are lower on the food rung don’t show pain. A deer will break a leg and keep walking until it drops, till it slows too much and something picks it off.

But you ain’t an animal, and nothing’s gonna pick you off.

“That’s true,” He says, “But that don’t make it right. You’re just prolonging the healing process.”

You look down. “…You were mad. I didn’t want to make you more upset by being useless.”

Ah. So that’s what it’s all about.

His approval, once again.

“I’d rather have you useless for a week than useless forever because you didn’t rest properly,” He ignores the hypocrisy of it, the fact that he’s ignored medical advice more times than he can count.

“I really am fine, mostly,” You say meekly, “It’s stopped hurting when I walk. It’s just a little unstable.”

“I still want you taking it easy for a little, you hear me?”

You nod.

“Nah,” He moves, standing in front of you, more than a little in your personal space, “I wanna hear you say it. Use your words.”

It’s a little test of sorts. To see how you’ll respond. What you’ll say. If you’ll listen.

You swallow, eyelashes fluttering. “I hear you. I understand.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Take it easy.”

“That’s right,” You’ve been nice and obedient, so he figures you deserve a little reward. “Good girl.”

He hears your sharp intake of breath, watches your eyes get a little glassy.

Aw, that’s all you wanted. Just wanted to be someone’s good girl.

His good girl.

He nods towards your place. “Get along, now. Do I have to walk you to your door?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’ll go. I will. Uh— bye.”

He watches you scamper away, gait a little uneven, hands clenched at your sides.

I can get used to this.

—

It becomes a little thing, after that.

When you’re not busy with your own responsibilities, you’re usually with him. Either right beside him, or trailing a few feet behind. Your company is quiet and calm, like waves from a lake lapping gently at the shore.

You also begin to settle in with the rest of the group. You’re still more inclined to be near Rick or, if he’s not available, Daryl, but once you become comfortable talking with people, Maggie and Glenn are quickly added to your slowly growing roster of safe people.

Judith has loved you ever since she found out that you’re the one who gave her the most beloved pink pocket knife, and enjoys babbling and talking your ear off about nothing the way that ten year olds do.

Carl grows to appreciate your presence too, finding solace in the fact that you don’t feel the need to fill silence with conversation.

You still act different when Rick is around, though. Especially when it’s just the two of you.

With everybody else, you’re subtly but very strictly independent- despite growing close with the group, you still maintain a slight distance with most of them, and prefer doing things yourself, by yourself. Old habits die hard, he supposes.

But when you’re alone, just Rick and you, those hard edges soften, and your little personal bubble pops. He’s steadily growing obsessed with the change.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. Having such a cute little thing follow him around, hanging off his words. Most days, it’s all he can do not to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to bed.

And then one day, he does. Kind of.

It must be the middle of the night, but the second he hears the knock at his door, he’s wide awake.

He hushes both Carl and Judith back to bed, then creeps to the front door with his hand on his gun. He has never, in his entire life, been awoken in the middle of the night to good news.

When he opens the door he sees you. And Daryl, but he’s really focused on you. You’ve got tears streaming down your face, you’re wearing a strange combination of sleep clothes and the clothes he’s seen you wear to do runs. Your boots are on, but not tied.

“Wha—“

“Caught her sneaking towards the gates, all shaken up. Figured it’d be wiser to take her here then back to her place.”

Daryl pats your head once. “Don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

Then Daryl’s gone, and you’re standing on Rick’s porch, still crying.

“Alright, come here now.”

He barely manages to get the door closed before you fall into him, face pressed to his chest and hands grasping the front of his shirt.

He hesitates for just a moment before wrapping his arms around you.

“Shh, shh. You’re alright, you’re alright now.”

He presses one hand to the nape of your neck, keeping you tucked close as you crack, just a little bit, nearly silent tears staining his shirt and tremors wracking your body.

Eventually, he guides you over to the couch, situates himself before helping you into a more comfortable position. He wraps your arms around his neck, your legs draped across his lap and the couch.

He keeps one hand pressed to your neck, the other rubbing slow circles on your back.

He presses his cheek to the crown of your head, breathing in deep and slow, a curl of satisfaction rising in his chest when you unconsciously mimic his breathing, silent sobs slowing, tremors fading.

Once you’ve calmed down enough, he speaks.

“What’s got you so worked up, huh? What happened sweetheart?”

The pet name slips out of his mouth unbidden, but honestly, he wouldn’t take it back.

“Nightmare,” You sniffle. “Daryl was gone and it was my fault and you hated me.”

“Well, none of that happened now, did it?”

You shake your head.

“No, that’s right. Daryl’s just fine, and I ain’t upset with you. You’re alright.”

You take in a few shaky, shuddering breaths.

He shifts, readjusting and tucking you closer to him. “Now, how come you didn’t come to me? Daryl said you were headin’ to the gates.”

You go a little rigid. “Didn’t think I was allowed. Didn’t want to wake you up for something stupid.”

“Oh, none of that now,” He nudges you away a little, taking your face in his hands. He needs eye-contact while he says this, “You need something, you come to me. I don’t care what it is, I don’t care what time it is. You come to me, you understand?”

You nod, lip wobbling a bit. “I understand.”

He thumbs your cheekbone. “Good. Now come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”

In the morning, the kids are a little surprised to see your rumpled form at the kitchen table, but both recover fairly quickly. Judith especially, who rejoices at the prospect of someone other than Carl or her father whom she can hold hostage with inane, ten year old questions.

But you never quite shake that haunted look in your eyes. Like there was something else— something more in that nightmare, something that dug its little claws in and stuck fast.

It’s all he can do but pray it doesn’t last.

—

It becomes an unspoken thing that wherever Rick is, you’re nearby. Kind of like a little puppy, following him about and hoping for a treat.

He indulges you, because he can’t really help himself in the face of those eyes.

He also knows it’s the easiest way to get you to smile, which he’s been trying to bring about more, since the nightmare. You’ve shaken that haunted expression for the most part, but every now and then, it’ll come back, if just for a few moments.

You’ve been absent most of the day today, off on a run, and he wishes it didn’t get under his skin so much to not have his favorite girl right there behind him.

You’re his stress relief, and you don’t even know it. Don’t even do anything really, just kind of linger about with your adorable little face and occasionally help with your cute little hands. He’s hopelessly obsessed.

You’re smiling when you get back, bee-lining straight for him.

“Well, well,” He says, resting his hands on his hips, “What do we have here?”

“I got you something,” You say, practically vibrating with excitement, slinging your backpack off and rifling through it.

“Oh, something for me? Can’t wait to see it.”

You pull an honest to god polaroid camera out of your bag.

“You said once that you wished you had pictures of your kids to carry with you, and I found this, and it still works, and it still has film in it. I checked.”

You thrust it out to him, and he extracts it carefully from your hands, holding it with an almost reverence.

A camera. A working film camera.

You shuffle in place, and he realizes he’s been staring at it in silence for more than a few minutes. “…Do you like it?”

“I love it,” He says honestly, voice just a little scratchy, because he doesn’t understand how someone can survive the zombie apocalypse, and still end up so damn kind, and so damn sweet. “I’m so touched, sweetheart.”

You beam up at him. If you had a tail, you’d be wagging it. He’s never understood cuteness aggression until this very moment. He just can’t. He wants to squeeze you as hard as he can or just punch a wall or some stupid shit.

God, he’s pushing forty, he needs to get this under control.

“I was really excited when I found it. Tara took a picture of me to test it.”

You pull out a little polaroid picture, film developed, and he takes that with reverence too. In the picture, you’re smiling, that same soft, little smile you do when you’re really happy about something and don’t know how to express it. Your hands show two peace signs, a knife clutched in one.

That’s my girl, he thinks.

“Might just have to keep this,” He says, dumb smile on his face.

“Really?”

“Really. You know, it’s good luck to keep a picture of a pretty girl with you.”

“Pretty?” You squeak, flushing. It’s so easy to make you flustered. He loves it.

“Mhm,” He says, tucking the photo into one of the compartments on his belt, keeping it safe. “Real pretty, I’d say.”

“Oh.” You say, more than a little breathless. “Um.”

Oh, your poor little brain.

“You need a minute?” He snorts.

“Maybe?”

He chuckles, patting the top of your head. “Oh, you’ll be fine. Better get used to it.”

“You’re pretty too,” You blurt, then your eyes widen comically. “No, wait, I meant—“

He laughs, a real, actual laugh. “Me, a grown ass man- pretty. That’s a good one.”

You bury your face in your hands, a tiny little whine escaping your throat.

“Aw, come on, now. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m very flattered you think I’m pretty.”

“S’ not what I meant.” You mumble.

“No?” He says, prying your hands off your face. “What’d you mean, then?”

You look away, unable to meet his eyes.

“You’re… handsome.” You whisper the last part, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Aw, what’d I do to deserve a young thing like you thinking an old man like me is handsome?”

You mumble something again, a little too quiet for him to hear.

“…afe.”

He leans down. “What was that, now?”

“You’re safe.”

Oh.

That’s… not the answer he was expecting.

But he likes it.

Rick is a leader. A protector.

And you need him.

“I make you feel safe?” He hums, resisting the urge to step closer to you because you’re very much out in the open and he knows how you feel about wide open spaces, especially when there’s people in them. He’s torturing you enough as it is. “That why you linger around me, huh?”

Feeling bolder at his interest, you nod.

“You make me feel like… something special. Protected.”

Yes.

He’s always known that he needs to be needed. That he’s the kind of man who requires being a leader, taking care of what’s his, protecting.

To have verbal confirmation that he’s made you feel safe, protected, it’s.

Well it’s a lot more than he can unpack in front of the gates.

“Pretty little thing like you needs protectin’.”

You frown.

“Not because you’re incapable,” He amends, hands raised, “But because I rather like doing it.”

You lean closer, and he follows, heat rising—

“Please, save us all the pain of havin’ to watch, Rick.”

He grins, nose brushing yours, then steps back.

“Maybe stop creepin’ around, Daryl.” He calls to the other man, who just shrugs, ambling on by.

But Daryl does have a point. He doesn’t want an audience. You’re not that kind of girl.

Instead, he reaches down, snakes an arm around your waist and leads you away from the open space, towards his house instead.

“Come on, sweetheart. Think you’d rather be somewhere quiet for what I’m about to do.”

The heat radiating from your body and the shiver he feels under his palm is all the confirmation he needs.

His little fawn, finally his.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

[reiding-writing]

What about a cold!reader where Spencer gets jealous this time?

Like they meet another police team and they also have a "Spencer" who's dorky and they don't really listen to his rambling so she's kind to him (in her own cold!reader way) Spencer is like "???? The fuck is this exactly?"

SILENT TREATMENT. /spencer reid/

spencer’s not sure if you made the right decision by choosing him. you know that you did.

s10!cold!reader 3.1k flangst series masterlist. main masterlist.

a/n | i fear i missed the ‘police team’ part of the first request and made spencer 2.0 a pathologist instead, oops-

The air in the precinct is heavy with stale coffee and tension. You stand at the whiteboard, arms crossed, eyes scanning the photographs pinned to it—victims, maps, timelines.

The others are seated around the table, all mid-discussion, but you’re quiet. Not checked out. Just… precise. Listening without indulging the noise.

You speak when necessary.

“Victim three deviates from the geographical pattern. If it was opportunistic, the UnSub’s comfort zone is widening. If it wasn’t—he’s accelerating.”

Rossi nods, pen tapping against the table. “Could be staging, too. Make it look random.”

“Could be.” You don’t elaborate. You don’t fill silences. You let them speak if they have something worth adding.

No one pushes for more. They know how you operate. They know you don’t soften things. Not for comfort, not for camaraderie. You’re professional, respected—and emotionally distant, even now, even years into working with them.

The only exception to that is sitting three feet away from you, pretending to read a file he’s already memorised twice.

Spencer is quiet. Quieter than usual. His gaze flicks to you every so often, like he’s trying to time something—his words, maybe. Your reactions. Your temperature. Whatever it is, he’s trying to gauge where you’re at without having to ask.

“Spencer,” you say without looking at him, “page twelve. The blood spatter analysis.”

He’s already on it, of course. He lifts his eyes quickly. “Right—uh, yeah. The cast-off patterns indicate repeated strikes from a blunt object, likely with some torque. There's arterial spray on the west wall, so the blow that killed her came from the left side.”

You give a small nod. “Thanks.”

That’s it. No warmth. No smile. But Spencer straightens a little like it meant something. Like he’s grateful for being asked.

Emily side-eyes the two of you, not subtle in the least. “Is it just me, or has Boy Wonder been extra clingy lately?”

Morgan grins over his coffee. “You noticed that too, huh? He’s been on her like a puppy. Following her around the crime scenes, sitting next to her at lunch, hanging on her every word…”

JJ chimes in, amused. “It’s kind of cute. He’s like one of those Victorian ghosts—you know, all sad eyes and emotional repression,”

“Hey,” Spencer protests, not quite looking at any of them. “I don’t—cling,”

You don’t react. You never do when they tease him. And Spencer doesn’t look to you for help either, but you can feel the tension in his shoulders beside you.

Still, they’re not wrong.

He’s been… off lately. Not in a way most people would notice, but you’re not most people. He’s always been close to you, but recently, he’s orbiting you in smaller, tighter circles. Sitting closer. Waiting longer when you speak, like he's hoping you'll say something more.

The team has picked up on it. Of course they have. But they don’t know. Not really. They just think he’s crushing harder than usual. No one suspects what’s actually going on—because you’ve made sure of that.

You and Spencer aren’t the kind of couple who touch hands under the table or exchange soft smiles across briefing rooms. You’re not a couple that does anything in front of people, really. You’re together, but that truth stays tucked away between you and him, guarded in the quiet moments that happen off the clock.

Moments no one else sees.

“You doing okay?” you ask him quietly as the others begin packing up for the next site visit.

Spencer looks startled. “Me?”

You don’t repeat yourself.

He nods, quickly. “Yeah. Just… yeah,”

You hold his gaze for a second longer than necessary. A flicker of something passes between you. Reassurance, maybe. Or a silent understanding.

Morgan watches the exchange from the other side of the room, eyebrows lifting. “Okay, seriously, what is that?”

You ignore him. You grab your coat.

Hotch glances at his watch, then at you. “You and Reid head to the ME’s office. JJ, Emily, and Morgan—head to the victim’s apartment.”

Spencer immediately moves to follow, a bit too fast, a bit too eager.

Emily catches your arm on the way out, voice low. “You’d tell me, right?”

You pause. “Tell you what?”

She gives you a long look. “Never mind,”

—

The mortuary is colder than usual, the sterile, humming kind of cold that seeps through your coat and settles deep in your bones. You don’t shiver. You just pull on a pair of latex gloves and nod at the technician who leads you and Spencer toward the back.

The morgue table is already prepped, and the body is covered with a clean white sheet. It’s clinical. Organised. Efficient.

Spencer walks beside you in silence, his hands folded in front of him, shoulders set in that way that means he’s wound a little too tight. You don’t ask why. You already know. He’s been tense since yesterday—since you listened to the young tech at the crime scene rattle off chemical compositions and possible causes of decomp with the kind of enthusiasm Spencer usually reserves for classical literature and obscure physics.

Now, you’re both here again, about to meet another new person excited to talk about death.

The doors swing open, and in walks a man who can’t be older than twenty-eight. Blonde hair slightly ruffled, round glasses sliding down his nose, blue gloves snapped on too tight. He’s grinning before he even says hello.

“You must be the agents! I’m Tyler, the newest forensic pathologist on-site.” He says it like he’s giving a TED Talk. “Technically I’m still finishing my fellowship, but I’ve done two post-grads already, and I’ve been shadowing Dr. Karlsen for the last three months—”

Behind him, a woman in her sixties, presumably Dr. Karlsen, sighs audibly. “Tyler,”

“Right, right,” Tyler says, waving her off. “Back on track. Let’s begin,”

He peels back the sheet with a reverent kind of gentleness, like he’s revealing a masterpiece, not a victim of a homicide. You don’t react, not outwardly. You observe the bruising around the throat, the defensive wounds along the forearms, the way one wrist seems just slightly dislocated from the rest of the body’s alignment.

Spencer shifts beside you, already piecing things together.

Tyler claps once, low but excited. “So, cause of death was asphyxiation due to manual strangulation, but what’s really interesting is the laryngeal cartilage—you see here?” He gestures with tweezers, careful not to touch. “This fracture on the right side of the thyroid cartilage? It’s called a hyoid crush. Super rare, but it suggests a significant amount of pressure, possibly done from behind. Also—if you look just under here—”

Spencer speaks up, voice dry. “That damage could also occur post-mortem if the body was handled roughly during movement. Depending on the timeline, it’s not definitive,”

Tyler blinks. “Yes—true! Great point. But in this case, time of death aligns pretty tightly with the estimated bruising pattern, which I can show you in just a moment. And did you know—” He turns toward you now, eyes bright behind his glasses. “—that the thyroid cartilage, especially in females, doesn’t always ossify the way it does in males? That’s why injuries here can be harder to spot unless you’re really looking,”

You nod once. “Interesting.”

He beams, clearly encouraged. “Oh! And even cooler—well, not for the victim, obviously—but cool from a physiological standpoint—is that the arterial pressure around the carotid sinus can trigger something called a vagal response. It can actually kill a person instantly. That’s why sometimes you see victims with minimal signs of struggle. Their heart just… stops,”

You don’t interrupt. You just let him go on, standing still, arms crossed loosely over your chest. Your face is unreadable, but you’re listening. Not because you’re overly impressed—his information is nothing Spencer couldn’t rattle off half-asleep—but because it’s rare to see someone talk about this stuff with that kind of earnest joy. It’s not affection, not interest. It’s more like watching a dog with a brand-new toy. Mildly amusing. Harmless.

Spencer doesn’t see it that way.

He’s standing rigid beside you now, arms crossed, jaw set tight. You can practically feel the radiating jealousy off him like static. Tyler’s voice is all you can hear in the room, but Spencer’s silence is louder.

Dr. Karlsen cuts in after a minute, clearing her throat.

“Tyler. You’re wandering,”

“Right, right, sorry,” he mutters sheepishly. “Okay. So, other injuries: mild contusions to the upper back, inconsistent with the ligature pattern on the neck—suggests those came before the primary attack. Or from an external for e,”

Spencer murmurs, almost too low to be heard, “Or the UnSub simply pressed her down with a knee to control movement,”

You glance at him. His eyes aren’t on you—they’re locked on the mortician, unblinking.

Tyler continues without noticing. “I’ll upload full reports to the BAU’s system. But if you’d like to stay, I’ve got the next autopsy scheduled in twenty minutes. It’s unrelated, but the skull fracture’s really unusual—he fell into an industrial lathe, if you can believe that—”

“Thank you,” you interrupt, voice calm. “But we’ve got another scene to process.”

Tyler deflates a little but still smiles. “Of course. Good luck with the case,”

Spencer doesn’t say goodbye.

—

Back at the precinct, the team regroups. Photos scatter across the table, evidence logs updated, and reports uploaded. It’s a flurry of movement, conversation, caffeine.

Spencer stays quiet.

Even when Garcia calls in with a list of potential suspect matches, even when JJ reads off new victimology data—he’s present, but distant. Contributing, but subdued.

The turning point comes when you’re scanning Tyler’s preliminary report again, eyes catching on something he’d mentioned in passing—about the bruising pattern not matching the ligature marks.

You frown. “This doesn’t make sense.”

Hotch looks up. “What is it?”

You pull a photo closer. “The bruising on the victim’s upper back was dismissed as unrelated, but if the UnSub had control of her neck from behind, these could be from bracing his knee. Except the angles are wrong, which means she was restrained by someone else beforehand. Or there were multiple offenders.”

A beat.

Morgan leans in. “Multiple Unsubs? Are you sure?”

Reid is already flipping through crime scene notes, pulling up maps, rearranging the timeline.

But you know the shift started with something Tyler said. A stray, almost off-hand detail—one Spencer had dismissed. And now, it’s cracked the case wide open.

You glance over at him again.

His expression is neutral, but you know him. Know the set of his jaw, the small twitch of his fingers against the folder, the way he suddenly won’t meet your eyes.

He’s not okay.

And the silence keeps going.

And going.

Spencer doesn’t sit next to you at the precinct. He doesn’t offer up extra information unless someone asks directly. He doesn’t bring you your usual coffee without saying anything, doesn’t lean over your shoulder to glance at your notes, doesn’t linger when you leave the room.

At first, you don’t even notice. Not really. You’re used to space. You need space. Silence doesn’t alarm you—it comforts you. If he wants room, you’ll give it. That’s part of being with someone, right? Letting them breathe.

But then it starts to feel like something else.

Something heavier.

His eyes avoid yours. His steps fall behind the team, not beside you. His voice, when he speaks, sounds smaller. Not quieter. Smaller.

And the team—well, they notice.

They notice fast.

“What do you think happened?” JJ whispers, leaning toward Morgan at the conference table.

Morgan lifts a brow. “Between Doctor Genius and Miss Ice Bath?”

JJ nods. “They haven’t said more than five words to each other in two days,”

“Maybe they had a fight,”

“About what? Reid would agree the sky was red if she suggested it,”

“Exactly,” Morgan mutters, “maybe that’s the problem,”

JJ laughs under her breath. “Or maybe Spence is just tired,”

Morgan chuckles. “Either way, something is weird,”

—

You keep your head down. You do your work. And when Spencer doesn't sit beside you, you let him be.

Because you figure if he needed you, he'd say something.

He doesn’t.

Not until four nights into the case, in a borrowed office space at the local PD. It's late. The rest of the team has gone back to the hotel to get some sleep, but you stayed behind to finish typing up victimology reports. Spencer stayed too—though he hasn’t said more than three words to you all day.

You assumed he was just buried in research.

He isn’t.

He’s pacing now, just behind you, his arms crossed tight like he’s trying to hold himself together.

You finally look up.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He stops pacing, stares at the wall for a moment, then turns to you, blurting out in a rush:

“Do you want to be with me, or would you rather be with someone else who’s… easier to deal with?”

You blink, slow. “Excuse me?”

He exhales, harsh and shaky. “I—I’ve just been thinking about it, okay? Since the morgue. Since that guy.”

You’re still. Watching him carefully.

He keeps going, words unraveling fast.

“He was like me. He talks like me. He got excited about the same things I do, and you—you listened to him. You didn’t tune him out, you didn’t tell him to focus, or cut him off, or roll your eyes. You actually looked like you didn’t mind. Like you liked hearing him talk.”

“Okay—”

“And that’s fine, that’s—I get it, he’s younger, he’s less complicated, and I’m not trying to make this into something dramatic, I just—” He cuts himself off, swallows. “You could have someone like him. Someone who doesn’t have… all of the— baggage, that I come with,”

He gestures at himself. Like he is the problem. Like all the things that make him him are some burden you’ve quietly been carrying.

You stare at him for a long moment.

Then you speak, slowly.

“I have no idea what you’re on about.”

Spencer looks confused. “What?”

“I’m going to assume you’re talking about the ME, and tell you that you’re being ridiculous,” You stand, stepping closer to him. “I was focused on the case. On the victim. Not on whether the guy liked explaining arteries.”

“But you let him—”

“Because I let you talk like that,” you say. “So why would I shut someone else down for doing the same?”

He doesn’t say anything.

Your voice softens a fraction—not warm, but honest. Quiet. Careful.

“You’re who I’m with.”

His brows draw together. “That’s it?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He’s still not sure how to process that. “But I’m—difficult.”

“I know.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

You sigh, stepping just close enough that your knees brush his. “Yes*.*”

You pause.

Then, carefully, you lift your hand and rest it on his knee. Not possessive. Not performative.

Just steady.

It’s one of the few times you initiate touch. He notices. His eyes flicker down, then back up again, and something in his posture shifts—like the weight on his shoulders finally loses a fraction of its heaviness.

He’s still spiralling a little, you can tell, but you add, gently, “You spiral. You overthink. You get jealous. You shut down.”

A pause.

“And I don’t care.”

His throat bobs.

You reach up, fingers brushing lightly against the edge of his hairline, tucking it back behind his ear. He leans into it instinctively, even though he’s still blinking like he can’t believe what just happened.

You look at him flatly.

“If I didn’t want to be with you,” you say. “then I wouldn’t be here,”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a week.

Then, finally, he nods.

And for the first time in days, his fingers curl around yours.

—

The next morning, everything is back to normal.

Or, at least, it seems like it.

Spencer sits beside you again at the precinct. He hands you your coffee, shoulder brushing yours. He leans over your notepad to make a quiet joke about the new crime scene tech who mislabeled three evidence bags, and you give a low, dry chuckle that makes Morgan do a double-take.

Emily stares. JJ narrows her eyes.

Something’s changed.

But it’s subtle. Maddeningly subtle.

There’s no hand-holding. No long, longing stares. Just… a shift in air pressure.

“You feel that?” JJ murmurs to Morgan as you and Spencer walk out of the room together, shoulders aligned.

Morgan sips his coffee. “Pretty boy’s silent treatment didn’t last long,”

“No,” JJ says slowly, “apparently not,”

They both fall silent, watching you disappear down the hall with Spencer beside you.

“You think they’re—?” Morgan starts.

JJ shakes her head. “No idea.”

But they’ll keep guessing.

They always do.

And you?

You’ll keep things exactly the way you like them.

Quiet. Private.

Yours.

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere Eldritch being who has taken over your entire town.

TW. Dead Dove Do Not Eat Horror, confinement, isolation, death, Stockholm syndrome, yandere

You didn’t know when it had happened, but there was something very obviously wrong with your town.

It was the little things like the warped street signs, the inconsistent cracks in the sidewalk, and the way that the uncanny faces of people seemed to stare at you. It didn’t use to be like this, but you found yourself cautious about your new reality on the daily. You did try to leave and call for help, but there was some mysterious force cutting off your network. And when you did try to pack all your bags and high tail it out of there, you would end up just looping straight back on your street no matter what direction you drove in.

So now you made do with the fact that nothing was normal.

You sometimes wonder why whatever has infected all the people decided to leave you alone. Because there was no way it wasn’t a conscious decision. Your favorite flowers would start sprouting out of concrete walls and glass despite the fact it would be the middle of winter one day and a scorching summer the next. Not to mention, those flowers didn’t even grow here to begin with. It was a gesture. If it was meant to tempt or be kind, you weren’t sure. 

The town functioned like nothing was out of the ordinary, though. Well, at least it tried to puppet the barely real bodies of your community to do things they would daily. The grocery store always had food and figures milling about, and even though none of the products ever tasted quite right or had words in a real language, you could tell “it” was trying to keep things running for you.

You’d once tried to hide away in your house, thinking that it was somehow protecting you from whatever was out there. But all you did was make it angry. Constant thunderstorms that shook the ground, and hail that pounded on your roof and walls. When you continued to stay inside, that’s when it made things clear: it was letting you stay as you were. The house shifted dramatically, doors disappearing and walls bending in front of your eyes. 

Come outside. Stop trying to resist.

Privacy was just another one of those far-out concepts now.

The thing, as you so liked to call it, had been more affectionate lately. You didn’t know exactly how to describe it, but it had started morphing all the “people” into more attractive versions of themselves. Or at least, what it thought of as attractive to humans. Their faces were more tangible now and less blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, but they were uncanny in a new way. Skin too smooth, too perfect in so many different ways. Symmetrical, full lips, pleasant expressions, soothing voices: all things that on paper would lure someone in, but it had alarm bells ringing in your head nearly all the time now.

“I don’t like this, you know,” You said one day as you sat in the diner. The room was stretched out wider than what it looked like on the outside, and the waitress had an unnaturally wide smile. Before you was a plate of… something. Your guess was pancakes.

“What do you mean?” Several voices asked at once. It came from all around, and the waitress’s mouth barely moved to match the words. 

“ I like you better when you aren’t trying so hard to be something you weren’t.”

There was a pause, and the building slowly unraveled into a jumbled mess of things that you could barely comprehend, the other patrons' faces and bodies melting away into linoleum floors. 

“You’re not human. You don’t have to be. I think I’d prefer that honestly,” You shrugged and poked at your food. From the corner of your eyes, a figure seemed to emerge from the mess of what used to be your favorite restaurant. It was a writhing mass of dark tendrils, reaching for anything nearby. You’re breath caught in your throat.

“Do you really mean that?”

The voice spoke, but there wasn’t any face to accompany it. It reverberated in the base of your spine, racing through your nerves like lightning. Your breath hitched, and you finally gathered enough courage to look at it. It was a mess of things you couldn’t quite make out, but it was almost comforting. 

“This is the first time I’ve actually seen you,” you admitted, a small laugh of disbelief caught in your throat. You couldn’t help but smile. It was the first time it had actually listened to you. 

The being twitched, pulsing as it slid over towards where you were sitting at the booth. It was the only thing that had stayed intact. For something so expressionless, you’d dare to say it seemed shy. 

From the inky mass, one tendril reached out for you, the air around it crackling. You stayed in place as it slid over your hand, and you felt the wonder and relief.

“Will you stay with me? I don’t want to force you, but I’m so alone… you’re the only one who doesn’t disappear when I’m near.”

You blinked as the mass filled the cracks between your hands, folding into the lines of your palms as if trying to memorize you. If it had a hand, you’d be holding it. If it had lips, yours would be slotting against them. If it had a heart, you were certain they’d be painted a similar shade of loneliness. 

You stood up and slowly approached it, holding out your arms as you leaned in, wrapped your arms around its slowly forming figure, and nodded in silence. 

[enjakey]

Please Stop, Don’t Stop

Pairing: mob!Jake x mob!fem!reader

TWN | 9k- brother’s best friend | best friend’s sister | posted this in my old account a really long time ago which is now deleted | this was literally my first ever enhypen fic and I still love it | I love the mob trope maybe I should write some more of it | so much fun, so much yearning, sibling hate and sibling love | Jay truly is a good brother no matter how shitty he is | Jake is fine shyt and he proves it to you by sneaking around with you

Summary: living in Jay’s shadow as his younger sister was always the life you had known. Considering that he was the heir to family business, the now leader of a mafia, Jay took all kinds of protective measures to keep you safe. Which meant that you were always by his side- just, a room away from his in hotels with your own body guards. You loathed your brother, you did. He stripped you away of a life. But then he loosened up when his right hand man and best friend, Jake, pulled some strings and somehow had you swooning for him.

For the longest time, all Y/N knew was to hide under the shadows of her brother. Wherever he went, she had no choice but to follow. She’d been to exotic countries but stayed locked in hotel rooms while her brother tended to business. Never did she get the chance to enjoy travelling, never did she find herself smiling while she stared out of a balcony, and never did she feel sociable.

Granted, she had bodyguards with her, Sunoo and Jungwon, suffocatingly accompanying her wherever she went. They were at her feet, tracking everything from a lift of her finger to a dart of her eyes to report back to their boss by the end of the day. For all she knew, she thought they were insufferable.

They were all insufferable, blindly following her brother’s orders in the hopes of getting a minuscule ounce of validation. She wondered how her brother managed to get them wrapped around his fingers, having them- all six of them- live for him and his needs and his desires.

Because at the end of the day, Jay Park was in charge, the strongest of them all, the one that could wipe off their existence with a snap of his fingers. Y/N never believed her brother could possibly hold that much power. Maybe power was just a figure of speech, maybe it was just fear that drove everyone to fall at his feet. Maybe it was because they had all signed their souls to him- a devil’s contract.

Her brother, the same boy that fed her popcorn when they were kids, couldn’t possibly be the cruel man he now showed himself to be.

Her brother, who once thought of her as the apple of his eye, only coldly glanced at her when she cried or complained. With a glass of whiskey in one hand, the other tracing his jawline, he’d tut at her. “Don’t be pathetic,” he’d sneer. “What would mum and dad say if they saw you like this?”

Y/N would ask herself the same question. If her mum and dad saw her locked away in random hotel rooms with two men watching her like hawks, they would be disappointed. If her mum and dad saw her cry to her brother about her loneliness, their hearts would ache.

Well, those were the answers concocted from fantasy.

In reality, her mum and dad would tell Jay to do whatever he could in his power to keep her safe. Her mum and dad would allow her to live the rest of her life miserably, as long as it meant she was still alive, breathing. Her mum and dad would applaud Jay for making the decisions he made.

She hated it, Y/N hated him with every fibre of her being- in the beginning, at least. It got exhausting, after a point. To hate her brother was to hate someone he was forced to become. To hate her brother was to hate the industry she saw herself taking over someday. To hate her brother was to mar the good memories she had with him.

Y/N accepted it just around the time she turned eighteen. She accepted spending half her life around expensive hotels and services. She accepted being an unknown sibling when she attended gatherings with her brother on one of those rare days. She accepted being helpless.

She was pathetic. Or maybe she wasn’t, her life was. She had overheard Heeseung and Niki talk pithily of her to Jay. She had watched Sunghoon give her half-hearted glances as he walked past her. She would let Sunoo and Jungwon- who were ordered to not converse with her- ignore her mundane requests. She would endure the helpless shrugs Jake passed her-

Jake. How she envied him sometimes. How she envied the way Jay treated him, his right-hand man, more like a sibling than he treated her. Y/N didn’t know what it was about Jake that her brother admired so much. What was it that he could do that she couldn’t? What was it that Jake had to offer that she couldn’t?

He was so loyal to him, Y/N noticed. Jake Sim would do anything to protect Jay Park. To be fair, she did hear them argue quite a lot. She wasn’t sure about what, but every time they argued, Jay would become a little angrier, a little more controlling and a little more on edge.

In the world she lived in, loyalty was the only thing keeping them alive. Keeping her alive. Y/N stayed loyal to Jay by not running away. The boys he strung alone stayed loyal to him by obeying him, not selling him out.

In the world she lived in, looking over her shoulder was her priority. Physically and metaphorically, of course. Everything had safety precautions, from the keychains on her purse to her beloved phone- the same phone that Jay controlled with through regulations.

He baned her from using social media. All she did with it was watch movies, listen to music or play games. Nevertheless, it was better than having nothing at all. It was better than enduring an eternity of boredom.

Because, Y/N was currently tucked away in boredom, locked in a room with her two trusted bodyguards. They were somewhere in Italy- her balcony gave her a splendid view of the city and with the moon shining in the corner of her sight, her room sparkled with silver.

While she shamelessly hummed a tune and looked out the balcony, Sunoo and Jungwon sat in the room on separate chairs. The pair stared at their phone, thumbs typing away yet somehow, half their attention was on Y/N.

Their one order was to take care of her, and she was sure they vowed to do a damn well job at it.

“Y/N,” she heard Jungwon step into the balcony, his phone fisted into his hand as he waited for a response. She simply hummed at him, telling him to continue. “Your brother wants to speak with you.”

A groan drawled from her throat, head tilting over her shoulder as she glanced at him. Jungwon, though he wasn’t innocent, he certainly did look like it. With his beady eyes and puffy cheeks- Jay must have gone to hell and back to have him and Sunoo on his side. Both of them didn’t look like they belonged. Perhaps that was their advantage.

“What does he want?” Her eyes tiredly narrowed as she spoke but ultimately received no answer.

She rolled her eyes, following Jungwon back into the room. She was being guided out by him and Sunoo, strolling behind her as she strutted out the door and down the hall until the door to her brother’s hotel room came to view.

Swinging the door open, she was immediately met with the sight of two tramps- one entertaining her brother while the other danced in the middle of the room.

Niki sat on one couch, holding up a phone to record the tramps while Heeseung sat beside him. Jake and Sunghoon sat on another, smirks of amusement plastered on their faces as they watched. Y/N scoffed when Jungwon left her side to sit with Jay and Sunoo left to sit beside Niki.

“Dismiss your prostitutes before asking for your sister next time,” she crossed her arms, heels clicking as she came closer to her brother.

With a tut and a snap of his fingers, the two girls disappeared into the bathroom. Niki groaned out a complaint, something about being bored, and tucked his phone away. He was the youngest, yet he was the strongest out of them all. Y/N had heard rumours about his talents in wielding knives.

Heeseung, who sat beside him, was the oldest and smartest. The one in charge of planning and executing- or so she heard. He had his arm wrapped around Niki’s shoulders, a stoic scowl taking over his face as he looked at Y/N.

“I know you hate me but try being nice to me when my friends are around,” Jay smirked, standing to meet his sister’s gaze.

“It’s exhausting to feel anything towards you, brother,” as Y/N rolled her eyes, Niki involuntarily snickered.

Jay flashed the boy a glare and he quickly covered his mouth. “As I said,” he looked back at his sister. “Play nice.”

Y/N hid her disbelief by sucking in a breath, digging her nails into her arms. “Why’d you want to see me?”

“Mum called,” he said so casually, it made her raise a brow.

“What am I to do with that piece of information?”

“Again with the attitude,” he warned, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “She wants us to attend a gathering tomorrow,” he informed.

“Tomorrow?” She asked.

“Yes, tomorrow,” he echoed. “And not to worry, mum already has a dress sent for you,” he offered her a teasing smile which earned him another roll of her eyes.

“Are you bringing all six of your playthings or is it just gonna be the two of us?” She waved her hand, pointing towards the rest of the boys, eyes still trained on her brother.

“Have some manners,” Jay scowled. “They haven’t done anything to you.”

“Doesn’t matter. They’re all loyal to you, aren’t they?” Y/N cocked her head. “I don’t feel like giving you lot manners,” she seethed.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself,” Jay seethed back, snapping his fingers at her face.

Y/N flinched. She shamelessly flinched, eyes blinking and body leaning back. But then she shook away the shock on her face, standing straight and offering him the same stoic expression she gave her when she was angry.

“Just answer my question.”

Jay rolled his eyes this time, hand retreating to his side. “It’s only going to be me, you and Jake,” he promised.

“Awe, am I not gonna have my lovely bodyguards there?” She pouted, clearly showing off her sarcasm.

“Jake is more than capable of taking care of you for one night,” Jay smiled teasingly, looking over her shoulder to steal a glance from his right-hand man. “The rest of them have business to attend to.”

“Of course,” she smiled right back at him, narrowing her eyes. “Is that all?”

“Yes, that is all,” Jay nodded. “I expect you to be ready by tomorrow evening.”

“The dress better look pretty, then.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It is,” Jay cooed. “Mum even got it in pink.”

Her scoff went unnoticed by everyone when they fell into a stupor of laughter. Y/N was used to it, to be openly made fun of. Maybe she didn’t care, either. Regardless, if something happened to Jay one day, it would be her they listened to. She knew how she could get her way.

“Sunoo and Jungwon can stay here for the night. Have some fun,” Jay announced.

“Yay, I get to spend the night alone,” she leaned her weight on one leg. “Generous of you,” she crooned.

“I know,” Jay crooned back, eyes trailing towards his right-hand man. “Be a gentleman, Jake, and bring my sister back to her room, will you?”

Jake stood up, rubbing his palms against his jeans and giving Jay an assuring nod. Y/N didn’t bother to meet Jake’s eyes or bid her brother a good night. She trailed towards the door, leaving as she felt Jake’s hand hovering over her back.

The halls were empty, ground matted with blue carpets, walls plastered with ivory wallpaper, all the glory made visible by dimly lit golden lights. Yet her senses drowned in the sounds of their feet padding against the carpet, his hand guiding her by her back.

Jay must have trusted him the most. If it were anyone else, he probably would have chopped their fingers off for even dreaming of touching her- his sister. For someone that acted like she deserved no happiness, he sure was overprotective.

“Jay only wants to keep you safe.”

Jake’s voice rang loud and clear, his accent giving away his nerves. Y/N scoffed again, rolling her head to the side to get a better look at his perfectly styled hair and sculptured nose.

“I thought none of you were allowed to talk to me?”

Then came silence, just as she expected. And Jake had let her into her hotel room, locking the door as he left, leaving her in silence. Lonely silence and she liked that she was alone. For once she wouldn’t have two bodyguards shielding her to sleep.

The next morning, she was happy to realise that Jay was wrong. The dress her mum sent was, in fact, black. The satin wrapped around her frame effortlessly and Y/N admired herself in the mirror, her hands brushing over her collarbones and neck that hung a thin chain. Her fingers adorned with rings, ones that Jay bought for her.

She was brave enough to wear stilettos, and her feet tapped against each other while she sat in the back of her car, staring out the window. Jake drove, Jay sat in the passenger’s seat. The rearview mirror angled directly at Y/N, giving Jay a clean picture of his sister.

“When’d you get your nails done?”

Y/N admired her nails, shiny black liquor matching her dress. “I did them myself,” she spoke with a smile.

Jay hummed, amused by the way his sister entertained herself. He didn’t say anything else, just tapped his phone against his cheek and looked out the window. Jake found himself glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

Soon Y/N found herself standing in front of another hotel. The party hall, she presumed, where the gathering would be held. That would be the third time she was attending a party that year, to be able to witness human interaction.

Jay made sure to keep his hand wrapped around her forearm, subtly dragging her around as Jake followed them into a room lit by chandeliers and organised with circular tables- covered by white cloth, of course.

“Alright, listen,” Jay held her at an arm’s length, eyes sternly begging her to listen to his requests. “I need you to stay in one place. Where I can keep an easy eye on you,” he blinked.

“Am I not allowed to have fun?” Y/N crooked a brow, a smile creeping up her cheeks. “Dance with the rest of the guests, maybe?”

“Jake will be with you at all times. I’m sure he can give you all the entertainment you need for the night,” he clenched his jaw. Jake let out a hum, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Then why do you need to keep an eye on me?”

“Because I’m paranoid, Y/N,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Just tell me where you’ll be sitting. At least I’m letting you pick.”

“Yeah, because that’s being charitable,” despite her annoyance, she looked around the room, eyes landing on the open bar with tall stools. She pointed in its direction. “There. You’ll be able to see me from any corner and I’ll at least be able to drink.”

“Fine,” he agreed. “Just don’t get drunk. I expect to see you be able to walk by the end of the night.”

Then he exchanged a promising nod with Jake, leaving the pair alone while he went away to act like a polite guest. Jake, after a moment of silence, offered Y/N his arm and she hesitantly looped in hers. He guided her to the bar and helped her sit on the stool.

She fixed her dress, one leg crossed on the other as she ordered champagne. “What would you like to have?” She turned to Jake, her earrings shining under the light.

“I can order for myself,” he said, weaving his fingers together as he sat beside her.

“Too proud to let a girl speak for you, huh?” Y/N chuckled, wrapping her fingers around the drink that was being handed to her.

“Funny,” Jake passed her an annoyed glance. He called for the bartender with a wave of two fingers, asking for a whiskey that was handed to him within seconds.

“Strong men only enjoy strong drinks, I guess,” she mumbled, smirking as she brought the rim of her glass to her lips.

Jake scoffed. “You’re full of opinions, aren’t you?” He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know how to be nice to people?”

“What?” Y/N scoffed right back at him. “I’ve been stripped away of living my life and now I can’t have emotions and opinions?”

Jake looked away, clenching his jaw and gripping his glass of whiskey. He wore his own set of rings, ones that strained against his skin and clanked against his glass.

“And please enlighten me as to why I have to be nice,” she continued. “Have any of you been nice to me? Hence, do I owe any of you my kindness?”

“Fair enough,” Jake let the words push past his teeth.

“That’s what I thought,” her lips frowned into a scowl as she sipped her champagne again. Upon looking at his defeated face, though, she recoiled. “But since my brother’s forcing you to keep me company tonight, perhaps I should play nice.”

Jake chuckled, involuntarily letting himself enjoy Y/N’s humour. “Here I thought you didn’t owe me your kindness,” he cocked his head, hiding his smile with his glass of whiskey.

“Don’t make me regret it,” she tipped her glass towards him.

Jake hummed, nodding as he mustered up the courage to look at Y/N- his boss’ sister, the same girl he wasn’t allowed to cross paths with until the previous night. He smiled at her, pondering if striking up a conversation was a good idea.

If he was allowed to, he might as well let himself use his freedom to his advantage. Y/N was doing it, too, after all.

“Your life’s always been this way, huh?” He asked, shamelessly showing his curiosity.

“What way?” She wondered, pushing her newly emptied glass away. Her fingers curled under his chin, propping her elbows on the counter.

“This,” he pointed his finger at her, looking her up and down. “Controlled by your brother, denied of freedom,” he listed.

Y/N pondered over his question while asking for a refill of champagne. She swirled her glass around, watching the bubbles fizz away. She cleared her throat, nostalgia filling her conscience.

“I used to be a wild girl while I was still in high school,” she chuckled. “You know, typical high school parties, cheap beer and making mistakes?”

Jake nodded. “Then what drove Jay to treat you like this?” He cringed. “He pulled you out of school, didn’t he?”

“You know, I thought he would have told you of all people the reason for his actions,” she chuckled but continued explaining. “Yes, he pulled me out of school. He forced me to live in secrecy and whatnot,” she shrugged.

“We’re all just as clueless are you are,” he shrugged back. “All we know is that you and your brother have an… Unconventional relationship.”

“Unconventional doesn’t even begin to explain it,” she sipped her champagne. “He was forced into all of this, you know? The Mob, the violent mentality. With that came paranoia and the constant need to keep up his guard.”

“You seem quite sympathetic towards him,” he noticed.

“Maybe I am,” she agreed. “But whatever he’s been through doesn’t excuse how he treats me,” she insisted, pressing her finger to her chest.

“Right,” Jake pursed his lips.

“His overprotective act just made me despise him a little. He ruined my life, after all,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Of course,” he let out a scoff, a slight grin taking over his features as he finished off his whiskey.

Y/N tilted her head, attempting to get a better glance at Jake. “What’s so funny?” She asked, the same grin spreading on her lips.

The more she examined him, the more she realised how little she knew of him. Of any of them, for that matter. They lived under the same roof, travelled everywhere but the only information she gathered of them was by overhearing conversations. To be fair, her brother did ban them from interacting with her, regardless of how much he trusted them.

She came to realise that this was probably the closest she had to a conversation in a long time.

Jake, on the other hand, shook away the glee on his face when he looked over Y/N’s shoulder, only to find Jay approaching them. He looked away, clenching his jaw and weaving his fingers together. Y/N’s brows knitted together, confusion slapping her harder than a wave.

When Jay finally made himself known, her expression contorted into realisation. Brow raising, she watched him smile at her and Jake. “I see you’ve been enjoying yourselves so far,” he said. “I hate to interrupt but I have a certain someone that was begging to meet you.”

Beside him stood a woman that Y/N found much too familiar. Her auburn hair flowed past her shoulders, almond eyes shining with a smile as she looked at her.

“Pearl?” Y/N’s eyes widened, excited as she started the woman up and down. She used to babysit her and her brother when she was still children, oblivious to the bad in the world.

Pearl was a reminder of her past, a sliver of naivety.

“Yeah, It’s me,” the woman fondly opened her arms and Y/N found herself leaping at the hug.

“My God, it’s been years,” Y/N gasped, holding her at an arm’s length.

“I know, a lot has changed,” Pearl enthused. “You look great, Y/N.”

“You too,” she agreed. “How have you been?”

“Good. Great,” Pearl nodded. “I’ve got two kids, a great husband,” she smiled at her, then craned her neck to smile at Jay.

Jake watched the scene unravel from behind with a refill of whiskey held between his fingers. He saw the way Jay licked his top teeth as Pearl smiled feverishly at him and that Y/N wasn’t oblivious to the looks they shared. Unloyal she was, it was obvious.

Jay was quick to cut the reunion, standing between his sister and their once babysitter. “Nostalgia is a joy, isn’t it?” He grinned. “Now, Pearl. I’ll have a few words with my sister and then come find you. Go on now.”

Pearl nodded, waving Y/N goodbye. “I’ll be waiting,” she said to Jay and breezed past them.

Y/N gaped at her brother, wide-eyed as she realised what she just witnessed. Jay raised a brow. “What?” He asked, holding his hands by his side.

“She’s married,” she reminded him. “She has two kids. And you want to sleep with her?”

“Since when did you have a say in my actions?” Jay jeered, completely careless towards her point. Y/N rolled her eyes, Jake scoffed and shook his head.

“Unbelievable,” she cursed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know,” her brother smirked, then strolled past her, leaving her alone with Jake again.

Y/N scoffed at him, returning to her stool while shaking her head out of disbelief. She didn’t say anything, just thought to herself that this was probably the most eventful night she’s had since her eighteenth birthday.

“He disappoints you, doesn’t he?” Jake swirled around his whiskey, training his eyes on the way her mouth gaped.

“He has no self-respect, does he?” Y/N ran her fingers through her scalp, meddling with her hair as she hollered for more drinks- this time, wine.

“No, I guess not,” he mumbled, too entranced by the anger that seemed to suit her so well. The way her brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, mouth parted and chest rising a little more than usual- Jake looked away.

For the rest of the night, he stripped her and himself of any interaction between them. The pair enjoyed their drinks, lost in their phones. A part of Jake hoped that she’d ask him for a dance or whine about how bored she was.

Maybe she was too proud to ask for anything else, maybe she was just angry towards her intolerable brother.

It was proven to be the latter when Jay came striding back, hair tousled and shirt wrinkled from his controversial expedition. “You’re insufferable,” she said to him

“Don’t ruin my mood,” he dismissed her, and it was back to being ignored by her brother.

She was taken back to the hotel, her diner waiting in her room along with Sunoo and Jungwon. She quietly changed her clothes, freshened up before eating and replayed the events of the night over and over again.

She thought about Pearl and Jay and Jake- Oh, especially Jake and the conversation she had with him. She found herself craving more conversations, desperate for an escape. But, wishing for leisure was like wishing for a unicorn.

She got over it by tomorrow, accepting her loneliness once again while she ate pancakes in bed while her brother and his friends were enjoying breakfast together. She swore she could hear laughter echoing from the banquet hall, overpowering the melodies she had playing on her phone.

A knock on her door, however, was not what she expected. She didn’t have to get out of bed and open the door, though that was the whole point of knocking. It opened on its own and Jake’s head peaked through the crack, his hand gripping the doorknob.

Y/N immediately sat straight, duvet pooling at her waist as she turned off her music and put away her pancakes. A breath left her lips as he entered her room, followed by her brother and Sunghoon.

“What a surprise,” she mumbled, fisting the duvet as the three boys stood around her bed, one on each side.

“Good morning,” her brother offered her a curt smile and she nodded at him.

“Am I in trouble?” She almost laughed. “Or do you need something?”

“I just need to talk to you,” Jay rolled his eyes. “Andrei has been asking to see you for a while.”

“And who’s Andrei?”

Jay smiled viciously, realising that his sister was curious, giving him the attention he expected. “He’s a work buddy of mine, it’s not important.”

“Seems like it is,” she furrowed her brows. “He wants to see me, after all,” she argued.

“Just listen, will you?” He scoffed. “I’m attending a meeting of his and he wants you there.”

“Then why are these two here?”

“They will be taking care of you. I’d much rather have these two look after you while the rest of the boys attend the meeting with me.”

Jake pursed his lips, nodding as he listened. Sunghoon passed Y/N a stoic glance from the corner of his eyes. She gulped, covering up her second guesses with a furrow of her brows.

“So, what? I’m just gonna sit outside while you have all the fun?” She chuckled half-heartedly, a hesitant smile gracing her face.

“I don’t call this fun, Y/N” Jay seethed. “You’ve been popular around my colleagues and I’d rather not know the reason. The least you can do is not ask questions and follow simple orders.”

“I am not one of your playthings to follow orders, Jay,” she seethed back. “It’s early in the morning, I don’t need you snapping at me.”

Jay, with a smile that screamed anything but good, crouched beside her bed, face inching towards hers. “I can say the same,” he chuckled, two puffs of air escaping his lungs.

Y/N glared at him, jaw clenching as she let go of her duvet and crossed her arms. “You’re insatiable,” she growled.

“I know,” Jay smirked. “Now get out of bed, get ready and change into something presentable,” he stood to his feet, stomping towards her suitcases and flinging them open. Y/N followed him, jumping out of her bed and yelping.

“I’m obviously not going to show up in my pyjamas!” She yelled. “Now, stop going through my stuff and get out!”

She swore she heard Jake and Sunghoon stifle their laughter as Y/N pushed her brother towards her door. Their hands covered their mouths, unsubtly looking away.

“Out!” She continued yelling. “The lot of you!”

“I’m only messing with you,” her brother grinned at her as he stepped out the door, ushering the two other boys with his hand.

“You show brotherly affection at the worse times,” she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, Jake and Sunghoon strolling past her and out the door.

Jay shook his head, crooning. “Be ready before I get annoyed.”

Y/N slammed the door in his face.

Sighing, she brushed her hands down her face as silence consumed her once again. She strolled around her room, taking ten minutes to waste before ultimately disappearing into the bathroom.

It was rather dramatic of her to saunter out of her door in a little red dress, hands shifting her hair to one side of her shoulder. The carpet muffled the click of her heels and at the end of the hall stood Jake like a knight in tailored clothes.

His presence took her by surprise and her lips parted as she approached him. “Jay told me to get you,” he said and she curtly nodded.

Jake walked her downstairs, an awkward silence following their path as Y/N looked ahead; he fought to steal glances of her. Then they entered the elevator, metal doors sliding behind them.

He cleared his throat, licking his lips. “Had a good breakfast?”

“Of course,” she answered nonchalantly, eyes trained forward. It was a lie, obviously, but neither of them felt the need to acknowledge it.

She was piled into a car with him, Jay and Sunghoon. She didn’t say a word, didn’t seem like she wanted to either. Her earphones stuck to her ear, feet bobbing up and down to an unknown beat.

Jake, despite fighting his urges, had his eyes trained on her arms, legs, exposed neck and collarbones- any exposed skin he could get his gaze on, gaping from the corner of his eyes. He’d surely get in trouble if Jay caught his subtle glances.

An exhausted sigh left her lips when they reached her destination, her shoulders slumping as she stood in front of a rather tall building. “Come on, now,” Jay had clasped his hand around her arm and dragged her inside- Jake and Sunghoon followed.

“I can walk on my own,” she complained, a breathy whine escaping her throat as they entered a meeting room. Empty, it was- a long table surrounded by cushioned chairs for privileged backs to lean on.

“I know, I just don’t want my baby sister to get lost in this mess,” he taunted. “So, listen carefully and just follow the rules, yeah?”

“You make this sound like mission impossible,” she groaned. “Why are you making this such a big deal? I’m just meeting one of your colleagues,” she argued, tilting her head to the side.

“You’re meeting a colleague that’s killed people for fun,” he glared. “As surprising as it may seem, I’d like to keep you alive.”

“You’ve killed people too. What’s the difference?” She almost chuckled, disbelief taking over her features.

Jay had the same reaction. “The difference is that I’m your brother,” he reminded. “Now, can you just listen?”

“Fine. I’m listening.”

“Good,” he started. “When Andrei comes in, he’s gonna want to see you. obviously. All you have to do is behave, smile like the little princess you are and minimally answer all his questions. Simple enough, right?” He shrugged his shoulders, a sarcastic smile appearing on his face.

“Right,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Exactly,” he enthused. “When he’s done talking to you, Jake will take you away and you’ll wait in the bar, right across from this room,” he pointed his arm out the door, towards the area he was referring to. “Sunghoon will join you later.”

“Great plan, brother,” it was clearly a sardonic compliment. “Keeping me alive and all… You deserve an award.”

“I’m not in the mood for jokes, Y/N,” he sighed and she furrowed her brows, telling him that she wasn’t joking either.

Her reaction went ignored when the door to the meeting room flung open, revealing a man taller than the three boys Y/N was surrounded by. She presumed it was Andrei and he did fit the mental image she created for him. Tall, as old as her dad and holding pride as he walked in.

All three boys curtly turned their heads towards him, bodies stiffening as they greeted him with their hands meeting in the middle. “It’s good to see you boys,” he smiled.

“It’s good to see you too, boss,” Jay exhaled, letting go of his hand. Y/N lightly gaped at her brother, confused by his choice of… Words.

Andrew crisply turned around, surprised when his gaze was met with the presence of Y/N. He bellowed out a chuckle, brows raising as his arms extending past him. “My, God!” He cheered. “I didn’t actually think you’d bring her,” he directed towards Jay.

“I thought it’d be nice if you took a trip down memory lane,” Jay offered, shrugging.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen you!” Then he wrapped his arms around her, bringing her into a hug.

Y/N was taken by surprise as her cheek pressed into the man’s chest. She didn’t know what he was talking about, she didn’t know what either of them were talking about and Andrei sure as hell didn’t seem like he was the murderous type. Towards her, at least. So the confusion stayed on her face when she was released from the embrace.

“Do you remember me, sweetheart?” Andrei asked.

Y/N shook her head, almost embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she chuckled.

“Oh, I don’t blame you,” he waved it off. “You were a baby the last time I saw you, clinging to your father’s side,” he smiled warmly, a stark contrast to the description she received of him.

“I’m sure she’ll remember if our dad gives her a little push towards remembering,” Jay smiled sarcastically again. Andrei agreed with a laugh.

“Regardless,” Andrei started. “It’s good to see you, Y/N.”

“Goodie,” Jay clasped his hands together, ushering at Jake with a nod. “I’d rather have my sister out of here before the rest arrive. Wouldn’t want her to die of boredom,” he took two steps towards his sister, a hand pressing on her back as Jake stood on her other side.

Andrei raised a questioning brow, turning to Sunghoon who answered with an inattentive shrug.

“I have so many questions,” Y/N whispered to Jay.

“I’ll answer them later,” Jay added. “If I feel like it.”

Then, Jake was guiding her away to the bar. It was like the previous night all over again as he helped her sit on one of the chairs, keeping the meeting room out of her sight. Y/N dryly laughed, scratching the corner of her brow with her pinky.

“He calls this entertainment,” the span of her palms spread across her thighs.

“He’s just being protective,” Jake debated.

Y/N shook her head again, chuckling out of disbelief. She ordered a glass of wine- a whiskey for Jake with it. The thought of being granted recreation was completely thrown out the window as her eyes met with Jake’s.

She scoffed. “You’d think that the right-hand man has to sit through every meeting,” she commented.

“There’s a lot more to my job than attending meetings and tending to your brother’s requests,” he chuckled. “Besides, my presence isn’t required. We already know what the meeting’s about.”

“Wow,” Y/N leaned her head on her shoulder. “There’s a lot about my brother I’m unaware of,” she stated. With that, it sounded like she affirmed it.

“I’m sure he’ll give you your answers when he thinks your ready.”

“I’m eighteen and he’s been dragging me along for three years. I think I’m ready,” she sipped her wine, eyes narrowed at the sight of Jake sighing. Her shoulders slumped again. “You know,” she trailed. “Jay treats you more like a sibling than me.”

Jake’s eyes widened, almost coughed up his whiskey as he gawked at her. Her statement came out nonchalantly, almost like she’d been waiting to finally say it.

At his reaction, Y/N laughed, waving her hand in front of her as she put away her wine. “No, no,” he coaxed. “Don’t freak out, I’m just saying,” she grinned.

He wiped the corner of his mouth with the side of his hand. “You don’t just say things like that,” he scoffed.

“Eh,” she shrugged a shoulder. “Am I wrong?”

“You are,” he insisted.

“You could be wrong, too,” she reasoned. “But then again, he wouldn’t be treating the lot of you like playthings if he actually cared,” Y/N raised her brows, hiding her expression by drinking her wine.

“Playthings,” he echoed. “You throw that phrase around a lot- what do you even mean by it?” He weaved his fingers together, perfectly styled hair falling over his left eye, curiosity taking over his duty.

“Well,” Y/N pondered, swirling around her wine glass. “You let him boss you around, use you, made sure that your sole purpose was to serve him-”

“Alright, I’m gonna stop you right there,” he silenced her with a wave of her hand and she couldn’t help but realise how similar he was to her brother. She exhaled, giving up. “You sound really stupid.”

“Is that so?” She hummed. “Please enlighten me,” she squinted her eyes, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“He doesn’t use us or boss us around,” he waved around his fingers, body language suddenly animated. “You think he’s some sort of monster and I don’t blame you for it but he cares, Y/N. He just shows it in a messed up way,” he crossed one leg over the other, finishing his whiskey in one gulp.

“I feel very cared for,” she rolled her eyes.

Y/N wasn’t going to admit the pit she felt in her chest, a rock of disgust and jealousy churning her stomach, making her abandon her wine. It stung to know that he treated his friends better than he treated his own sister.

“Protect me, my ass,” she mumbled, rolling her head and looking past Jake’s shoulder.

Heeseung, Niki, Jungwon and Sunoo walked down the hall, leading a small crowd into the meeting room. Her fingers drummed against the counter, lips pursing as she pondered.

“Listen,” she heard Jake sigh. “I know it stings but he cares for you. More than any of us. Hence the overprotective act he puts on,” he coaxed.

“Act?” She huffed. “Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I mean, did it work?” He tried, clearly getting a laugh out of her.

“No.”

“Fair,” he pursed his lips. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“We don’t even know each other,” she said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, pointing between themselves.

“So?” He asked. “We can get to know each other now?” He offered.

“Is that allowed?”

Jake smirked, tracing his tongue over his teeth. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” he whispered, leaning closer to her for dramatic effect. “Your brother trusts me more than anyone, which means he trusts me around you more than Jungwon or Sunoo.”

Y/N raised a brow, smirking back. “Which means what?”

“He doesn’t mind me interacting with you,” he let out. “I’ve always been looking out for you. Longer than Sunoo and Jungwon.”

She gaped at his confession, a shiver of shock running down her spine. “How am I only finding out about this now?” She inquired.

He shrugged. “I told you. There’s a lot more to being the right-hand man than you think,” he grinned. “Plus, he knows you’re going crazy. That’s why he needs me to tag along with him if he’s bringing you,” he explained.

“And here I thought my day was ruined,” she enthused, finding it in her to finish her abandoned wine. “So Jungwon and Sunoo aren’t my bodyguards anymore?”

“I guess you could say that,” he said. “They’re not gonna be locked in your room with you all day. They have other work to tend to for now is all I know. And I’ll be looking after you when you need to be.”

With the new information that was practically being fed to her, Y/N felt a rush of relief wash over her. “I can be alone in my room now,” she gushed.

“Yeah,” Jake chuckled, nodding.

She was still being babied, she knew. But the little splinter of freedom she was being given gave her a little hope. Maybe this was just the beginning of a better future, maybe Jay was realising how unfair he had always been. Regardless, she still felt happy and confident.

Hopefully, nothing would burst that bubble.

“And, by the way,” he added. “You didn’t hear any of this from me.”

“Of course,” she grinned and Jake found his hand moving towards hers, cupping it right on top of her knuckles. Y/N didn’t oppose it, she let his contact be the big red bow to her good day.

Jake thought her skin was warm. He thought the sight of their hands touching was more than just a pretty picture. He thought he wanted to hold her hand for longer than he’d like. He spent more than a couple of years watching over her like a fairy godmother- or guardian angel, whatever it was they called them these days. This was probably the last thing he expected, but it happened.

He wished for the moment to last a little longer, but Y/N’s face contorted into realisation, her gaze moving past his shoulder. She slipped her hand away from his, clearing her throat and dusting her dress as Sunghoon stood in front of them, the same stoic expression gracing his expression.

“The meeting’s almost over. Jay should be out soon,” he informed and Y/N nodded, pulling her lips to the side.

Before Sunghoon could make himself comfortable on one of the stools and enjoy himself a drink, Jay was striding towards them. With his hands balled into fists, his arms swung as he approached them.

Y/N found it in herself to smile at her brother, head innocently tilting as he looked at her with confusion. “What?” He asked. “What’s so amusing? Why are you smiling?” He wondered, looking between her and Jake.

“Am I not allowed to smile?” She blinked innocently.

“You don’t smile for no reason,” he pointed out, then rolled his eyes. “Where’s the angry remark I usually get?”

Jake and Sunghoon exchanged glances.

“Don’t be a bore, Jay,” Y/N chuckled. “I’m just excited to ask you those questions I was talking about earlier.”

Jay sucked in a breath, face relaxing as realisation washed over him. He glanced at the ceiling, then at the ground, helplessly sighing. He only realised just how much his sister was going to pester him.

“Let’s just go, shall we?” He pursed his lips.

Jay grabbed her forearm, smoothly dragging her out of her stool and past the hallway, all the way down to the ground floor. Y/N let him, yet curious questions tumbled out of her mouth, none stop. By the time they reached the car, Jay was annoyed.

He ushered Jake and Sunghoon to get in the car as he held Y/N by the arm, glaring at her until she shut up and gave him a reaction deemed serious enough. “What do you want from me?” He fumed.

Y/N took a deep breath, throwing away the questions she had on Andrei, or her parents or about the business he leads. Instead, she pursed her lips into a smile. “I just want you to be my brother,” she freely admitted.

“I am your brother.”

“But you don’t act like one!” She argued. “I just want you to let me live my life and be happy when I find happiness. I want you to let me explore the places you drag me to, let me interact with people,” she listed breathlessly, hope filling her voice.

“Y/N, you know how dangerous it is to just let you wander,” he sighed. “I’m not willing to take that risk.”

Her tongue poked her cheek as her brother looked away, eyes frantically blinking as a wind blew past them. “Okay, then Jake can follow me around while I go wandering,” she offered. “You trust him, and he keeps me safe. I’ll be a good girl and won’t talk to strangers.”

Jay immediately let out a chuckle. “What did you and Jake talk about while I was gone?”

Her brows furrowed, lips forced into a frown. “What? We didn’t talk,” she insisted. “it was more of a chat. And he didn’t exactly tell me anything.”

With that, Jay pondered, hands resting on his hips as he looked his sister up and down. He sighed defeatedly. “Fine,” he said. “I’m not going to let you wander all by yourself. You can stay in your room alone and do whatever you want but when you’re outside, you’re either with me or him. Understood?”

Y/N couldn’t help the smile that reached her eyes, stretching her cheeks and showing her teeth. She’d jump up and down if she could. “Understood,” she said to him.

“Good,” he nodded. “I trust him enough to know that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. So, make friends with him or something, I don’t know. I’m only letting you do this because I don’t want you going crazy.”

“I know,” she nodded, lovingly looking at her brother who had his guard down. “Thank you, brother.”

“Don’t make me regret this,” he warned and she was being piled into the car, sitting in the back seat with Jake.

As Sunghoon started driving, Jake managed to catch Y/N’s attention. He curiously nodded at her, silently asking what she was smiling about. She only shrugged at him and looked away, hands resting on the exposed skin of her knee.

She was alone when she reached her, a silence she accompanied on her own. She starting squealing out of joy, skipping towards the bathroom with a smile that refused to leave her face. Music blasted through her phone and she shamelessly sang along.

Dinner was sent to her room later in the night and she happily located herself on the bed, duvet pooling at her waist as the TV played a random movie she’d never watched or understood. Nevertheless, she watched intently, wide eyes scanning across the subtitles as she stuffed her mouth with carbonara pasta.

She didn’t cross paths with her brother since their merry little conversation. And neither did she expect to see him or any of his friends. But her door creaked open, and a familiar set of fingers adorned with a familiar set of rings held the door frame and Y/N was wiping her mouth and placing her plate on a table.

Deja vu washed over her.

“Jake?” She raised a brow as he entered the room without an invitation, slowly and softly clicking the door closed behind him.

Jake gazed at her with doe-eyes, filled with some amount of hope and desperation. His lips crooned into a sheepish smile as his fingers laced together in front of him. “When I said I wanted us to get to know each other, I meant it.”

Y/N smiled involuntarily, blinking twice as Jake took two steps towards her bed. She had to admit, the conversation she had with him was forgotten about, overshadowed by the satisfaction of her new predicament.

For starters, she didn’t know if Jake alone was allowed in there. She didn’t know how her brother would react if he found out he was in her room. Bending and breaking the rules so early into freedom wasn’t the best idea.

But what the hell did she know? She let him walk right up to her.

“I don’t know why but something in me thought it’d be a good idea to sneak into your room,” he chuckled, pulling a chair towards the foot of her bed. He sat comfortably, eyes trained on the sight of Y/N pulling the duvet to her shoulders.

“He knows you won’t hurt me,” she waved it off. “He made it quite clear that he trusts you with his life. Ergo, he trusts you enough to keep my life in the palm of your hands. You chatting with me alone in my room shouldn’t bother him-”

“-But Jay’s ego is so big that if he finds me here, he’ll wig out,” he gladly finished for her, waving around his fingers as he spoke. “He told me about the small changes he allowed.”

“Exactly,” she laughed.

“Were you just saying all that to convince yourself that it’s fine for me to be here?” He inquired, smirking

“Maybe,” she trailed. “I just don’t want to mess up, cross a line, have Jay find out and wig out and treat me like a doll again. You know?” She shrugged, belting out her explanation with a single breath.

“I know,” Jake nodded, giving her a comforting smile.

Y/N had to wonder why she was letting this happening, why she found herself enjoying his company and the conversations he started up. She could have easily chalked it up to the lack of human interaction during all these years. She could have easily chalked it up to the desperation of needing valid attention.

He was sitting in front of her, with the first two buttons of his shirt undone, his fingers trailing up and down his thigh and he listened and spoke. He had a perfectly charming smile and a perfectly carved nose. He had eyes shaped like pointy almonds and his laugh- Y/N loved making him laugh.

If Y/N could box up his laugher and get lost in how ridiculously restricted it sounded, she would. Perhaps it was his laughter that put her to sleep that night, unaware of just how tired the adrenaline rush made her.

But it was the same adrenaline rush and the absence of laughter that woke her up hours later. Her head lifted off her pillow with a gasp, hands fisting her duvet when she realised Jake was still in her room, sleeping in the chair with his head thrown back.

The sight of him at peace didn’t stop her from gaping, though. “Oh, my God,” she said, then repeated herself a little louder. That was enough for Jake’s eyes to shoot open and look around in complete confusion.

“What?” He rubbed his eyes with his palms, fingers scaling through his scalp as he fixed his hair. “What is it?” He mumbled.

Y/N squinted her eyes, forgetting for a split second that he wasn’t supposed to be in her room. “How is it that your hair is still perfect?” Her lips parted while she dramatically parted.

Jake’s face fell, a disinterest washing over him as he stared at the messily clothed girl in front of him. “You were freaking out a second ago and now this?” He raised his brows.

“Oh, yeah!” Her fingers buried in her face. “You’re still in my room!” She reminded him like it was no big deal but the clench of her jaw betrayed her.

The warm Italian sun was rising and shone its light through the curtains. Jake found himself flinching at the hasty realisation, jumping out of his chair and straightening his shirt. “Shit,” he cursed. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“No shit Sherlock!” Y/N scoffed, pushing the duvet off her legs and trudging towards the door. “Go back to your room before Jay wakes up,” she opened the door and Jake gladly followed with fisted hands.

“You think he’ll find out?” He stood at the entrance, hands holding the doorframe.

“He will if you stay any longer,” she closed the door as a scoff left his lips. “I’m sorry you had to sleep on a chair!” Then the door clicked shut and her back leaned on the door, a hand running down her face.

It was then she realised the grim on her face and stench on her skin but she didn’t find it in her to shower. Instead, she mulled over the number of ways the rest of the day could go while sitting on the edge of her bed and fixating on the chair Jake had slept on.

Now that she thought about it, her hotel room wasn’t as spacious as she thought. The ivory carpet was comfortable, and the golden lights seemed to brighten the bathroom more than the actual room. The bed was large and had pillows cosier than the ones back at home- Jay’s house.

All of that didn’t matter because today would be the day she would venture the streets of Naples and eat something other than five-star dishes for every meal. The thought brought a smile on her face, an exhausted smile but a smile nonetheless.

When she moved towards her suitcases, her door opened again and her face fell, lips pursing. “Good morning,” she heard her brother say, his sarcastic smile could be heard from a mile away.

“Morning,” she sang, the same sarcastic smile spreading on her face as she turned to look at him.

“You’re chipper,” he commented. “Why?”

He was oblivious to the fact that his trusted, loyal and honest right-hand man was previously in the room.

“Because I have a request that I know you won’t turn down,” she smiled ignorantly, a sparkle in her eyes and Jay strolled towards her, rolling his eyes.

“Ah, yes,” he mused. “Last day in Italy and the first day of filling your dream of getting the small sliver of freedom you’ve been chasing,” he taunted, holding up his thumb and index as he described what he meant by small.

“Come on, don’t ruin my mood,” she slapped his chest with the back of her hand. “When are we leaving, anyway?”

“Late in the evening,” he informed. “So whatever activities you have planned for today, they better fit the schedule,” he added.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I just want to go shopping and try pastries,” she shrugged. Jay’s face contorted into mild disgust.

“You really are miserable,” he commented, though it was obvious to be passed on as a joke.

“No, I just want to enjoy the little things in life,” she insisted.

“Please, don’t become a romantic,” he whined, his hand raising to hover in front of him.

“I’ve always been a romantic,” she snarled. “You’d know that if you bothered to spend a little time with me.”

“You’d be surprised,” he rolled his eyes. “Just don’t drag Jake into your romantic fantasies,” he waved his hand.

“You’re not funny,” she rolled her eyes. “And for someone who trusts Jake so much, you really have a way of being subtle about your concerns,” she pointed out. “Why?”

“Doesn’t matter how much I trust him,” Jay replied. “I know you and I know you’ll do something stupid and drag him into it with you. Why did you think I ordered Sunoo and Jungwon never to talk to you?”

“Seriously?” She scoffed, mouth gaping. “You thought I’d fall in love with them or something?”

“No,” he trailed. “But that might as well happen with Jake.”

“Wow, you trust him so much,” he taunted, drawling out her sarcasm.

“Seriously, Y/N. Don’t make me regret being lenient,” he scrunched up his face. “And it’s weird enough that I’m having a conversation about love and emotions with you,” he cringed while pulling out his phone. Y/N assumed he was going to call Jake.

She agreed with a tut, hands reaching into her suitcase to find new clothes to wear. Curiosity washed over her and she looked at her brother through her lashes. She licked her lips. “What would you do if something did happen between him and me?”

Her question was unacknowledged because he already had his phone pressed to his ear.

When Jake entered his hotel room, he wasn’t expecting Heeseung and Sunghoon to be sitting on his bed, with looks of what he thought was concern on their faces. He furrowed his brows and tilted his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” Heeseung replied. “You’re supposed to join us for breakfast in a couple minutes, Jake. Where were you?”

Heeseung and Sunghoon glared at him, though it was unintentional. Jake looked between the pair with hard eyes, contemplating if he could be honest with them. They’d find out, anyway. One way or another.

“I was in Y/N’s room the entire night,” he confessed.

Heeseung’s jaw fell and he stood up, stepping towards Jake. “What, are you her new bodyguard?”

“I guess you could say that,” he shrugged. “But I wasn’t supposed to be in her room.”

That was enough to have Heeseung leering at him, his hands reaching to fist his collar and dared to threaten him. “Listen,” he seethed. “I know Jay won’t literally kill us- his friends- when we mess up but his sister is a different story. He will explode if he finds out-”

“Can you calm down?” Jake pushed Heeseung off of himself, just as annoyed as he was. “I was just in there talking to her,” he defended.

“Without his permission,” Heeseung added.

“He won’t find out unless one of us tells him,” Jake rolled his eyes.

Heeseung looked over his shoulder to connect his eyes with Sunghoon. The pair were worried, for Jake and themselves. They’d keep a secret, no questions asked, but it wouldn’t take long for the situation to unravel and become something more than a mess.

“You’re gonna get caught up with her,” Heeseung warned.

Jake tutted, then scoffed as his hands rested on his hips. “I already am!” He exclaimed. “I’ve been watching over her for years, I know all her schedules and the books she reads like the back of my hand. Can you honestly blame me for wanting to know more?”

Sunghoon sighed, leaving the bed and strolling towards Jake with furrowed brows. “No, I guess we can’t blame you,” he agreed, but the twitch on his mouth told him that he had more to say. “But whatever you do, don’t get yourself in trouble. Don’t throw around Jay’s trust. Don’t fuck yourself over.”

He clapped Jake’s shoulder twice and pursed his lips. Before the conversation could continue further, Jake’s phone rang and he rushed to get it out of his pocket. “It’s Jay,” he mumbled but a part of him knew that he wasn’t in trouble. He ushered the pair in front of him to calm down when he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Are you awake?” Jay’s voice rang loud and clear.

“Wide awake,” Jake answered.

“Good,” Jay said. “Be ready in thirty minutes. My sister wants to go shopping and as much as I dread it, I’ll still have to comply.”

Jake found himself chuckling and the boys in front of him looked at him, confused. “Where am I supposed to take her?”

“I don’t know, a mall? Some shopping street?” The confusion in Jake’s voice was hard to miss. No one could blame him, though. He didn’t know the first thing about letting his sister have fun. “She said something about enjoying the little things in life.”

“Right, got it,” Jake nodded and then hung up the phone.

He ushered Heeseung and Sunghoon out of his room after explaining the schedule for his day. The two boys glanced warningly at him for the last time before Jake shut the door and took a minute to himself. He leaned his back on the door, hands covering his face as he groaned and cursed at himself.

The next half an hour went past like a blur- he wore a shirt similar to the one he wore prior, black pants and leather shoes, a watch to top it all off. When he entered Y/N’s room, he walked into the sight of Jay handing Y/N his credit card. They then turned to him and bid him their greetings.

The rest went downhill from there because he found himself driving to the nearest shopping street. Y/N thought malls were suffocating. He found himself glancing at her while she sat beside him, wanting to reach over and play with the end of her sundress.

Then he found himself carrying at least five shopping bags, filled with cheap dresses and tacky jewellery that looked beautiful regardless- and would certainly look stunning on her. She laughed and giggled and twirled as she skipped down the rocky pavement with a newly bought sun hat on her head. It matched her outfit to a tea.

Jake followed her without complaints. He was annoyed, yes, but that didn’t stop him from smiling at how happy she was. It was like she was on top of the world, exploring for the first time in her life.

“You know, Jay was being nice to me this morning?” She said while walking beside him, a few shopping bags hanging from her forearm too. “Sort of.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jake smirked as she nodded enthusiastically. “What’d he say?”

“Well, he was being his usual overprotective self and all,” she started. “But in like a nice way. A funny, trying to keep it loose kind of way. He was talking about love and all with me,” she glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, waiting for a response.

“I knew he was trying to be open with you but I wasn’t expecting that,” he chuckled. “What’d he say exactly?”

“To not drag you into a mess,” she responded nonchalantly with a shrug.

“Me?” He asked, blinking with surprise as he gripped the shopping bags tighter. “Odd,” he commented.

“I know,” she crooned. “He thinks I’ll fall in love with you or something. I don’t blame him for thinking that but Jay saying it out loud is just weird.”

Jake stared at the ground, swallowing a lump in his throat as he nodded. His hair covered his forehead, rosy red lips threatening to fall into a frown. “Yeah,” he said. “Weird.”

Y/N laughed, apologising for even bringing up the topic and skipping past him and into a cafe. He followed with a groan, padding his way past the door and letting her order whatever it was that she was craving- a cheesecake, blonde brownies and two cups of coffee, one for her and the other for him.

They found a booth somewhere in the corner, against the yellow bricked wall and beside a few potted plants. They rid themselves of the weight of the shopping bags and sat across from each other, sipping their coffees and enjoying the warm blonde brownies and cheesecake.

“Did you enjoy today?” Jake asked while he jabbed his fork into Y/N’s cheesecake.

“Very much,” she grinned, chewing on a mouthful of brownies. “I plan on dragging Jay into my room so I can do a little haul for him. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

“He’ll suffer,” he laughed and as did she, agreeing.

“I’m just trying to bond with him,” she reasoned. “He’ll go back to being cold-hearted soon but I plan on breaking that shell,” she smiled proudly.

“Well, good luck on that,” Jake offered. “I’m sure he’ll come around.”

“Hopefully,” she groaned. “I want to have a good relationship with someone from my family,” she grabbed a fork and dug at her cheesecake too.

“You don’t talk to your parents?”

“Nope,” she shook her head. “Jay acts like a messenger between them and me. They basically just handed me over to Jay and said figure it out. I have no idea why but I’m honestly better off,” she explained.

Jake didn’t understand how none of what she said bothered her. Or maybe it did, the indifference of her demeanour just hid it. He didn’t know. “Why are you better off?”

“Because,” she started, running her tongue across her teeth. “My parents are worse than my brother. Jay at least tries to keep me happy. My parents would just throw me in some room,” she cringed.

“They can’t be that bad,” Jake furrowed his brows.

“Fine, maybe I exaggerated,” she confessed. “But they still don’t care.”

“I didn’t know all that,” he waved his at her.

“Oh, really?” Y/N raised her brows in surprise. “I thought Jay would have told all of you.”

“He never talks about it.”

“Don’t blame him for that either.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, shaking the great of his questions out of his head. He blinked and wet his lips. “What else do you have planned for the day?”

“Nothing else, I had my fair share of fun,” she finished the cheesecake. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

As a matter of fact, Jake did have something in mind. He was going to take her to Museo Cappella Sansevero which wasn’t far from where they currently were. He was going to take her to an aquarium as well and call it an unofficial date.

He’d tell Sunghoon all about how she enjoyed it and how he made her laugh. He’d brag about how he spent an entire day with a pretty girl in a building surrounded by ancient paintings and sculptures and he’d gloat about how he took pictures of her in front of fish tanks.

Well, the fantasy was thrown out the window as the image of Jay’s livid face fogged his head. It was only then that he realised the idea of an unofficial date was foolish. Selfish, too. Y/N might as well have laughed in his face if he carried it out.

So he just shook his head, a tight-lipped smile answering her question. “We don’t have much time before the evening,” he reminded. “We should get back soon so you can torture your brother with your haul.”

That is exactly what she did. She dragged Jay out of his room and into hers and forced him to sit on a chair. Despite his groans, objections and complaints, he still sat with his fingers weaved on his thigh. Y/N put on a parade, showing him the various tops, skirts and dresses she bought.

Jay thought the necklaces and earrings she got were garish. Y/N silenced him and continued gushing. She talked about how warm the sun was and how she talked to the shop owners with the little Italian she learnt in her free time. She told him about the lovely cafe where she and Jake enjoyed a cheesecake and coffee.

“What, like a date?” Was Jay’s response and Y/N threw a pillow at his disappointed face.

“The thought didn’t cross my mind,” she said. “Even if I do end up falling for your right-hand man, you should allow it because you trust him so much-”

“One, don’t cross the line. It doesn’t matter how much I trust him, my ego will still get hurt,” he cut her off. “Two, Jake shall not find out about this conversation,” he held up two fingers. “Three, I’m never talking about love with you ever again. And four, I’m trying to be a better brother so let me.”

Y/N laughed at him, collapsing on her bed as Jay chuckled with her. They couldn’t remember the last time they laughed together, a moment where anger or arguments didn’t come into the way of siblingly bonding.

That smile stayed on her face as she was being guided around the airport, arm linked with her stoic-faced brother who gently sat her down beside him in the charted flight. They didn’t talk. In fact, the siblings enjoyed the comfortable silence between them as one read a magazine and the other sat with earphones plugged.

When they reached home, Jay told her to sleep in her room while he and the rest of the boys dealt with something he wouldn’t tell her about. “You can worry about unpacking tomorrow,” he said and she fell right to sleep.

She thought her sleep schedule would start messing up if she kept waking up in the middle of the night. A creak made her groan awake and as she opened her eyes, she was met by the sight of Jake and his innocent smile.

Y/N tiredly smiled back at him, mumbling out a question that neither of them could comprehend. He chuckled, allowing his fingers to brush away the hair from her face. She rubbed her eyes, pushing herself to lean against her headboard. “What are you doing here?” She murmured.

“Thought I’d wish you a good night,” he whispered back, crouching down to get a better look at her.

“How sweet of you,” she cracked a smile, leaning into the fingers that rested against her cheek. “But you didn’t have to wake me up.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to,” he coyed. “I’m not supposed to be here,” he said, reminding himself rather than informing her.

“No, no you’re not,” she agreed. “But now you woke me up and I won’t fall back asleep any time soon,” her expression fell somewhere between a pout and frown and Jake found himself swooning.

“I can’t sleep either,” he shrugged a shoulder, tracing his fingers down her jaw.

Y/N doesn’t respond to that, just smiled warmly and moved enough to push away her blanket. Jake looked at her a little confused, then questioningly but complied anyway. He crawled beside her, meekly moving his arm over her shoulders and she gladly got comfortable.

“If only Jay could see this,” she snorted. “He’d be furious if he saw his right-hand man putting his sister to sleep.”

“Which is why you need to speak a little more quietly,” he uttered, but the pair laughed anyway. They struggled to hold it in and ended up in a laughing mess. But they were quiet enough. Nobody woke up.

“Sorry,” she chuckled. “My sense of humour is broken.”

“Pretty obvious.”

Y/N laughed at that again, one hand covering her mouth and the other lightly hitting his chest. “Oh, my God,” she snickered. “Not laughing is harder than I thought.”

“Tell me about it,” Jake took a deep breath. “But it’s better than lying awake all night with nothing to do, right?”

“Exactly.”

The pair turn towards each other, eyes connecting for only a second, smiles stretching to create a memory that would probably be burnt into their heads. Y/N looks away first, mostly because it was an involuntary action but also because she wasn’t ready to break another rule in one night. Jake took a second, eyes easily gliding down the bridge of her nose to the turn of her jaw. Then he looked away too.

It was quiet for exactly twenty seconds where Y/N thought about what conversation to strike up next while Jake’s head was riddled with ifs and possibilities of what would happen if Jay walked into her room. It was probably not the best thing to think about while her head was nestling into his arm.

“Why do you think Jay is trying to be better?”

Turns out, Y/N was thinking about the same person. A different reason but the same person, regardless. Fear was what she felt, a small dent in her stomach bringing her nerves. She knew what she was doing was wrong, to be letting herself feel so comfortable lying next to someone she acquainted with for less than a week.

“Because you asked him,” he said, though he wasn’t so sure of his answer. “He probably realised that he can’t control you for the rest of your life.”

“I hope so,” she sighed. “I’m turning nineteen soon, I’d like to build a life for myself,” she stated.

Jake shifts his head, eyes glancing at her hair. “When?”

“In a week,” she said, fingers reaching to play with the ends of her hair.

“Oh, Yeah,” he breathed. “I remember.”

“You do?” Y/N shifted her head too and Jake’s chin touches her hair. She doesn’t seem to give a response to the contact but a swarm of butterflies rushed to his stomach and a chill ran down his spine- stark emotions colliding within his body.

“Of course,” he swallowed. “Jay always reminds us. He gets excited.”

“Really?” Her heart swelled, a warmth wrapping around her as she realised just how much her brother actually cared. “I didn’t know.”

“He didn’t want you to know,” he said. “He’d be embarrassed if he found out you knew.”

“I can keep a secret,” she grinned.

Jake grinned back, tightly. “What presents does he give you?”

“A ring,” she simply said and Jake’s brows lifted at the mundane response.

“A ring?”

“Yeah,” she nodded enthusiastically. “Every year since I was three, he buys me a ring for every birthday. I’m going to get the sixteenth one next week,” she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m only realising how much he cares.”

“I don’t blame you,” he cleared his throat, slumping further into her bed. That made her head fall against his shoulder- he had no complaints. “The bad parts overshadow the good parts, most of the time.”

“That’s true,” she nodded.

They were both tired, it was becoming rather obvious. Y/N smacked her lips together, eyes fighting to stay open. But she slipped into slumber, soon enough. Jake didn’t notice until he looked at her again, her breath steady and moonlight highlighting her cheekbone.

He sighed in defeat, slowly sliding his arm away as she fell back on her pillow and Jake slipped out of her bed. He took the liberty to properly drape the blanket over her body, covering her arms and legs equally. She nuzzled into her pillow, humming. He slowly crept out of her room.

The nights leading to her birthday went the same way. She didn’t ask him to, but he’d slip into her room to talk to her every night. He’d blame it on the lack of interaction between them during the day because he was either busy with paperwork or she was given no other choice but to stay in her room.

She usually spent breakfast with Jay, where they would talk about the most random things that came to mind. It was an unspoken rule- for Y/N to never ask about what he did for work every day. She was content enough with laughing and bonding with her brother.

Lunch and dinner, though, she was either sitting alone on the dining table in an empty house or sitting in her room with her face stuffed with food. The tv was usually playing a movie, other times she listened to music.

It wasn’t as depressing as it sounded, the constant loop her life scheduled. Because she had two highlights in her days. One in the morning, where she’d chat with her brother and the other at night, where Jake would lay beside her and keep her company until she fell asleep.

Neither did Jake talk about what he did in his day. He’d usually just tell her the gist- exhausting, boring, typical day for someone who worked in the business he did. With that answer, Y/N had to wonder what it was that she was being protected from, why she was being guarded like a precious gem that could be stolen. She realised she’d rather not know and she’d realised that they’d rather not tell. Living in a plane of oblivion was always better.

He once told her about his life in Australia and how he used to be with his parents and big brother. He talked about his dog, Layla, like he was talking about the love of his life and it made her smile. His accent finally made sense.

Y/N didn’t have much to tell Jake. Her life was boring. She elaborated on Pearl and how Jay had always had a crush on her when they were kids. They collectively made fun of him for sleeping with her even with the knowledge of her marriage.

She also told him how Jay finally told her about Andrei and how he and her dad were childhood friends. Andrei was the reason Jay was part of a mob and he was the reason they got to live in both luxury and misery.

When her birthday finally came, Jake didn’t have the chance to wish her. He knew for a fact that Jay would be surprising her at the stroke of twelve. That was exactly what happened.

Y/N, oblivious to her brother’s plans, was still awake, waiting for Jake to come into her like he was doing for the past week. But it was safe to say that she was much happier seeing Jay tip-toe into her room with a small birthday cake in his palms.

He had an excited smile on his face- a smile she rarely saw- as he sang Happy Birthday. A single candle was lit on the birthday cake and she quickly blew it out. The small celebration happened quietly and lasted until the pair managed to finish the cake. Before he let her sleep, despite knowing it’d be hard with the sugar rush, he handed her a birthday gift.

Another ring, like Y/N wished and expected for. A ring that was shaped with flowers, colourful enamel painted on the petals. “That is the opposite of tacky,” he said and she laughed at his humour.

She was glad that he could freely joke around with her, regardless of the situation.

She didn’t see Jake that entire day because her brother took her out for the first time in a long time. She wasn’t complaining, mostly because she was too engrossed in the empty park they walked around and the empty theatre they watched a movie in.

Regardless of how much Jay was willing to let Y/N have fun, he sure as hell wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to book out entire parks and theatres. He had the money, so why not.

Y/N honestly didn’t care as long as she was with him. She couldn’t remember the last time she enjoyed a day out with her brother.

They got home later in the evening and Y/N agreed to stay in her room for the rest of the day. When she walked past Jungwon and Sunoo, they wished her a happy birthday- she smiled gratefully at them, then shut the door of her room and sunk into the white sheets of her bed.

Suddenly it was like her old life chased her down, following the same loop she was so used to. Today was a rare day, a special day that probably wouldn’t be repeating itself until next year. It was just one day.

She wondered if she could plan something special for Jay’s birthday, too.

That night, when the moonlight filtered through her curtains and crickets chirped, Jake snuck into her room again, a determined look on his face. He held something in his hand, hiding it behind his back as he cautiously made his way towards her bed.

“Hey,” Y/N whispered to him, a beaming smile on her face.

“Hey,” he cooed back. “I didn’t get to see you all day,” he said as he slipped under the sheets beside her.

“I was with Jay the entire day,” she explained. “A special birthday surprise,” she jazzed her hands, earning a low chuckle from Jake.

“Before you tell me about it,” he started. “Happy birthday,” he crooned as a finger reached to tap her nose. They smiled at each other, humming. “And I got you something,” he added and pulled out an averagely sized box.

Y/N gasped softly. “You really didn’t have to,” she insisted but he shook his head, ushering her to move and sit in front of him. She complied, both crossing their legs as they sat in front of each other. Jake opened the box to reveal a bracelet, a simple, silver chain that would wrap around her wrist.

“It’s not much, but it’s something you’d like,” he smiled sheepishly.

“You’re right,” she gushed. “I love it.”

“Can I put it on for you?”

She nodded enthusiastically and Jake softly reached for her hands, fingers nimbly wrapping the bracelet around her wrist, cool metal touching warm skin. He was right, it suited her.

“Thank you,” she lifted her hand to ogle at the bracelet around her wrist. “It’s so pretty.”

“Pretty girl deserves pretty gifts,” the words slipped out involuntarily. He played it off with a shrug and leaned against the headboard. Y/N trained her eyes on him, moving closer so that their knees were touching. “How’d your day go, then?”

“Oh, right,” she chewed the inside of her cheek. “Jay came into my room with cake at exactly twelve in the night and then in the morning we went to a park and ate ice cream. Then we went to watch a movie.”

“Jay really did all that?”

“Granted, he did book out the entire park and theatre but it was still fun,” she added, a sly grin taking over her pursed lips.

“That’s the catch I was waiting for,” he laughed. “What about your parents?”

“They messaged me a birthday wish and sent me some money,” she scoffed, darting her eyes away for a brief second. “They act like they’re some distant relative of mine,” she commented.

“At least, you have Jay and me,” he offered. Y/N nodded, agreeing with a minuscule grin.

Silence followed with that. Neither of them were complaining, though, because they just gazed at each other, pupils fighting the dim moonlight. Y/N found it in herself to move her hands towards his, nimble fingers playing with his. She always thought he had pretty hands and she knew how bizarre it sounded.

Jake watched as her hands played with his fingers and recalled how he wanted her to do the exact thing. Her index scaled the span of his palm, then the crevices between his knuckles and veins. She paid so much attention to the one thing she was doing, he found it adorable.

“Can you believe that less than two weeks ago, Jay and I were at each others’ throats?” She mumbled, a light chuckle following her observation.

Jake hummed. “Can you believe that less than two weeks ago, you and I were strangers to each other?” He nodded between himself and her.

“Yeah,” she giggled. “And all it took was for me to be a whiney brat,” she muffled the cackle that left her mouth.

Jake laughed at her, chest rising and falling as he felt his heart race, banging against his ribs as Y/N absentmindedly wrapped her palm around his two fingers. Her delicate, little hand around his. He would curse if he could.

“I’m pleased with the way things turned out.”

While Y/N nodded, Jake let his free hand wrap around her wrist, tugging her towards him. It was clear that she wasn’t expecting it, almost slipping onto his lap. But Jake caught her, his other hand holding her waist as her palms landed on his chest.

He exhaled, chest heaving as her body pressed against his, lips parted. Y/N darted her eyes across his face, flitting to read what he was feeling. “I’m pleased too,” she gulped, smiling ever so lightly that anyone could have missed it.

“Good,” then his fingers were wrapped around her chin, guiding her face closer to his. Their eyes fluttered shut in unison and Jake caught her lips with his.

Y/N wouldn’t say that she felt sparks fly. No, it was something subtler yet more intense. It was like waves of butterflies crashed down on her, the back of her head tingled and her spine would have given up if it wasn’t for Jake holding her tight. As her hand travelled towards his jaw, she felt fire between her fingers.

A moan parted from her throat, her brows furrowing when Jake’s lips parted from her with a wet smack. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, breathless just as he was. “Was that supposed to be my second birthday gift?”

Jake chuckled dryly, shaking his head as he leaned towards her again. “Take it as whatever you want,” he pecked her, repeatedly, punctuating each with a smile as his hands buried in her hair.

If it weren’t for the air conditioning, she was sure she’d spontaneously combust out of joy, excitement and ardour. She wouldn’t say she was pining over him. Hell, they only started talking a week ago. But a part of her knew he was pining for her, for a longer time than she knew.

He made it quite obvious. He was so nice to her, so caring and endearing. The bracelet as a birthday gift just gave him away. Maybe she was happy, maybe she was scared. She didn’t know which overpowered what as her brain turned into mush while he held her.

All she knew was that she liked him and he liked her. What more could she possibly ask for?

Right. Her brother’s acceptance.

“Shit,” she cursed as Jake’s palm pressed the small of her back, her chest arching into his. He sighed, darting his eyes up and down her face before kissing her nose, and then her cheek and then her forehead but his lips found their way back to hers nevertheless.

“What is it?” He breathed, giving up and resting his chin in the croon of her neck. She slumped against him, her arms latching around his neck and the smell of lavender filled her nose.

“Jay,” she reminded him.

“I just kissed you,” he pointed out. “And you’re thinking of your brother?”

“Exactly, you just kissed me,” she whined. “And if he finds out-”

“How will he find out?” Jake hummed as Y/N pushed herself off him, sitting inches away from his touch. His fingertips traced her cheek, pushing back any strand of hair that covered her face.

Oh, how long he had waited for this exact moment, to have her freely for him to touch. For her hands to explore his face and chest and for his hands to disappear in her hair. But there would always be something stopping him- them.

“I don’t know,” she hissed. “It’s Jay! He’ll find out somehow!”

“Then let’s just hope he doesn’t find out any time soon,” he tried. “I’m not gonna let him ruin this.”

Then Y/N felt butterflies in her stomach again and she fought the smile that threatened to grace her features. Jake didn’t hesitate to grin, pulling her closer to him and letting his hand roam her waist, fingers sliding under her shirt and trailing lines across the band of her pants.

She giggled, lips tracing his jaw and complaint that she felt ticklish. He told her that it was the whole point- she whined as she kissed his jugular. Jake’s hands refused to leave her hips, he held her in place, praying that he could have a few more minutes to spend just like that.

They didn’t know how long they stayed that way, lips on each other’s necks, hands teasing the little exposed skin they could find. But however long it was, nothing seemed to be enough. Jake left her room when Y/N started feeling sleepy. He left with a kiss to her head and mouth and slipped past her door.

She woke up early regardless and she chalked it up to the adrenaline that still surged through her veins. The previous night’s activities dazed her head as she raced down the stairs and into the kitchen. Jay sat at the dining table just like she expected, a plate of waffles with whipped cream sitting in front of him. His attention stayed on his phone, though, even when she settled beside him.

“Good morning,” she sang but received no answer. Well, if she counted a hum as an answer, then so be it.

The cook hurried to hand her a plate of waffles as well and she smiled at him, reaching for a fork and knife. She wasted no time in eating, oblivious to the way her brother’s jaw clenched and unclenched, eyes narrowed to an empty screen on her phone.

“Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?” She chuckled, chewing a mouthful of waffles.

Jay tutted, shaking his head and shoving his phone into his pocket. “I might as well have,” he grumbled. “How does one react to finding their right-hand man sneaking out of their sister’s room in the middle of the night,” and his hand reached for a tissue, wiping it between his fingers.

Y/N stilled her actions, fork falling out of her hand as her eyes connected with her brother. He was truly livid, fires of anger blazing in his eyes as his fingers intertwined under his chin.

“What?” She blinked, a chill running down her spine. Her hand hovered in the air, hair falling into her eyes, mouth agape.

“Don’t play dumb,” he rolled his eyes. “Do you know how angry I was?”

“What did you do?” She panicked, palms pressing against the slick wood of the table. The cutlery shook, her plate might as well have dropped to the floor.

“Yelled at him for a good fucking hour,” he seethed.

“That’s all you did?”

Jay doesn’t respond but takes his knife and fork to his waffles. Y/N watched patiently but it felt like her head could detonate at any given second. The worse possible scenarios crossed her mind- was Jake still his right-hand man?

“He’s still alive, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said nonchalantly. “He’s not just my right-hand man. He’s my best friend. I’m not cruel enough to kill him.”

If she could, she would sigh out of relief. But more questions surfaced. But she wasn’t in a place to ask him anything. After all, she did betray him.

“Not two weeks and he’s bought you a gift for your birthday and had the nerve to kiss you,” he let out a breath in disappointment. Y/N bowed her head down, embarrassed by just how much he knew. She couldn’t blame Jake for confessing, though. She would have confessed too. “To be fair, it was inevitable, right? Falling for the brother’s best friend- you’ve always been a clichè, right, Y/N?.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, playing with her thumbs. She wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say but it was the only appropriate response she could muster.

Jay ignored her, continuing to eat calmly. The shiny watch on his wrist slid up and down as he moved his arm while eating. Y/N knew her brother well enough to know that he was seconds away from exploding into fury. This was the calm before the storm, for all she knew.

“You’d think that I wouldn’t mind you having a rendezvous with him. You know, because I trust him and whatnot,” he continued, echoing the words she had said to him before. “But that’s the thing. I remember telling you not to drag him into your romantic fantasies,” he chewed on another piece of his waffle.

Y/N sat in her chair shaking, wondering how on earth she messed up so bad. Not two weeks and she had ruined her chance of freedom and a better relationship with her brother. Not two weeks and she proved that she didn’t deserve anything she asked for.

“Now I’m sitting here with my ego hurt. And we all know how I am when my ego is hurt” he reminded. “But I’m torn between minding my own business and doing something about it. So tell me, what should I do?”

It was a rhetorical question. Y/N knew that. She felt like a little girl being scolded by her parents after committing a small crime. But this wasn’t a small crime. It was a mistake that might as well cost her relationship with her brother. So she just sat there and took it. She was on the verge of tears, the corners of her lips twitching downwards.

“Because I don’t want to do something about it. You’re legally an adult. You can do whatever you want, right?” He coaxed, staring daggers into her head. “Right?” Y/N hesitantly nodded as he persisted. “Which means you can take care of yourself. So why need me at all? Why do I have to bend over backwards to do everything in my power to make sure not a hair on your head gets hurt?”

“Jay-”

“I’m doing everything I can to keep you safe,” he said. “But guess what? You aren’t the only one telling me that I’m being unfair. Heeseung, Sunghoon, Jungwon- all of them. I don’t want to know why they have a sudden interest in you and the way I treat you. But call it peer pressure. I was being convinced. And not two weeks, you find a way to make me regret being nice to you.”

“So you only put effort into being a better brother because of them?”

“No, Y/N. Everything I did was so I could call you a sister. So that you could look at me like I’m your brother. Not some monster that locks you up in your room all day,” he insisted, slamming the cutlery in his hands onto the table. “Can you blame me for being angry that you and Jake have your thing going on?”

“No.”

“What am I going to do when you have a falling out? What am I going to do if Jake, my right-hand man, my best friend, is the reason you get hurt?” He retorted, eyes squinting. “I can’t abandon him. Neither can I abandon you, can I?”

“What if we don’t have a falling out?” With the sudden surge of confidence, Y/N spoke back, head tilting at her proposal.

“Funny thing is, Jake said the same thing,” he scoffed. Like on cue, Jake was walking into the kitchen. The fear in his eyes covered by the clench in his jaw and fisted hands. Jay and Y/N turned their heads to look at him. “You did say that, didn’t you, Jake?”

Jake nodded, training his eyes on Jay as Y/N willed herself not to cry. Everything was going to be fine.

“But that’s the thing. Who are you to predict what might happen in the future?” He pursued. “It’s always best to prepare for the worse, right?”

“But why?” Y/N whispered. “Nothing bad will happen- Jay, I like him,” she reasoned. The girl might as well burst into sobs as she pointed between Jake and herself. “You and him are the only people I have in my life.”

“I know,” Jay growled. “That is what leads me to my conclusion.”

Jake and Y/N shared glances, both scared and confused. “What’s your conclusion?” Jake urged.

Silence was what followed as Jay continued eating. All Y/N and Jake could do was stare and wait patiently. This was their punishment, the silence that followed the verdict. The numerous thoughts and possibilities that conjured in their heads.

What could possibly happen now?

The sound of metal clattering with porcelain seemed to be the only distraction. Y/N fought the urge to coax him, force an answer out of him because she swore if she waited any longer, she’d go crazy.

Jay even stood up and kept his plate in the dishwasher. He cleared his throat, dusted his shirt and ran a hand through his annoyingly bleached blonde hair. He glanced at his sister and his right-hand man and gave them a curt not.

“You can do whatever you want.”

Y/N gaped, her jaw might as well have hit the floor, eyes involuntarily widening as she started her brother up and down. It was safe to say Jake gave the same expression, hands hovering in front of him.

“What?” Y/N asked.

“I’m furious,” Jay reminded the pair, the same stoic expression on his face. “But I’ll allow it. You’re so confident in yourselves, right? So be it, I’ll let you two live it down. Call this a test. I was just trying to see if you’re answers would stay the same.”

“You can’t be serious,” Jake stared, stepping closer to Y/N.

“I am being serious,” Jay said simply. “I accept this relationship,” it took every muscle in his body not to cringe.

Then Jay walked out of the kitchen because he didn’t know what he would do if he continued the conversation. Y/N and Jake were left frozen in their spots. They were still confused, puzzled at what just happened. So there was no storm, Y/N thought to herself, and he raged for so long just because he was mad.

Would it be appropriate to cause after her brother and hug him? Probably not the right timing.

She knew how much Jay had to suppress to let out the words he just said. So all she could do was be grateful. Her mouth only closed when Jake touched her chin with his fingers. She blinked, shaking her head and looking at Jake.

“What just happened?” She asked.

“I think we just got Jay’s blessings,” Jake mused, pulling a chair beside her and collapsing in it. A sigh left his lips, hands resting on the table as he tilted his head towards her.

“How are you so calm?”

“Why would I not be?”

Jake looked back to the prior night when Jay had caught him walking out of her room. He looked back to the way Jay seethed at him and spewed words but the tears that brimmed his eyes were unmistakable. Jay wasn’t just angry, he was giving Jake the protective brother talk.

Maybe a part of him saw this coming. Jay couldn’t do anything to stop it. Well, he could turn to physical force but he wasn’t as cruel as people made him out to be. So he wasn’t worried. He knew Jay would come around to it someday, learn to be happy with the way things turned out.

Because the way things turned out wasn’t so bad, after all.

“What did he say to you?” Y/N’s hand moved to rest on his, thumb touching his knuckles. She moved closer to him; Jake chuckled and placed his hand on her knee.

“Not important,” he assured. “But can we just celebrate? This is the best day of my life!”

[mrsriddlenott]

~Teach Me, Please~

Bsf!JJ Maybank x Innocent!Reader

Warnings: oral(m&f receiving), bit of a handjob, praise kink, spit kink, innocent reader but she’s lowkey in control, reader kinda gets bullied in the beginning but not directly. Not proofread.

{masterlist} • {PART TWO)

————

“She’s like their little sister,” you heard the kook girl you didn’t recognize laugh as she spoke about you, “She follows them around like a groupie, JJ most of all. It’s like she doesn’t know what to do with what she has. I would be flirting non-stop if I were with him as much as she is. JJ is absolutely delicious.”

“I think they’ll always be just friends,” her equally annoying friend giggles, the pair clearly not noticing you behind them or simply not caring, “I mean, look at how innocent she is, I doubt she would know how to please him if she had the chance. She has literally never had a boyfriend, she probably has never given head in her life, and JJ gets around a lot; he has plenty of better options. Hell, he probably doesn’t pay enough attention to even notice her raging crush on him anyway. You should definitely go for it tonight, I’ve heard he’s good.”

You huffed, stomping off back towards the couch you had left JJ on. What annoyed you the most wasn’t the shit talking, you knew people talked, especially kooks who somehow had nothing better to do. What hurt was the accuracy. Despite being the same age as your fellow Pogues and knowing JJ and JB since the third grade, you were still very much innocent. Especially when compared to your ragtag group of friends.

You knew they didn’t mind; they all loved you no matter what. Kie helped you as much as she could, but it was pointless; you just didn’t know how to be as laid back as they were. You had fun and loved to party as much as they did, but you still preferred a nice night in with a movie. And while part of you used to worry you held them back, they made sure you knew you could always come to them. So when you saw JJ wave you back over with a questioning look in his eyes, you knew you could ask him to help you with anything.

And your crush on him had totally and absolutely nothing to do with that decision.

“Will you teach me how to give a blowjob?” You blurt out, dropping onto the couch in front of JJ’s outstretched arm as though everything was normal. He gagged on the gulp of beer he’d just taken before looking to you with wide eyes, trying to decipher if he had heard you properly.

“What’d you jus’ say?” His voice was breathless as he wiped his face of spilled beer, your eyes tracing the droplets that escaped down his neck.

“I want you to teach me how to give good head.” You stated, stretching the words to make your intentions clear. You watched JJ’s eyes bounce between your eyes and lips, the gears in his brain working overtime to decide if you were joking or not.

“Like- uh.” JJ starts, his voice strained while he needlessly wipes his mouth again, spreading his legs on the coach and making room for himself and letting his knee touch yours, “Like on what though.” He arches his eyebrow to look at you, not wanting to be presumptuous but wanting nothing more than to help you directly.

JJ would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you like that a million times. He wanted you, he just never admitted it out loud because he thought you deserved better. He messed around and acted out while you and John B cleaned up after him, but over the years, he started to notice a distinct difference in his feelings for John B compared to those he had for you. However, he decided long ago he wouldn’t act on any of them unless you did first; he couldn’t risk ruining you because you were just so good.

“On you, Jay, come on, don’t make me feel weird about it.” The whining tone of your voice makes JJ bite his lip, unsure if this is ethical. JB would surely frown upon this, and Kie would probably kill him for corrupting you. But he was having a hard time fighting the urge now as you looked up to him with pleading eyes.

“Well, I don’t wanna take advantage of you or anything, y’know?” He stutters over his words slightly as he fumbles to find anything to say, making you giggle in that way he loves so much. You had never once seen JJ flustered or worried about a girl asking to suck him off and you honestly couldn’t believe it was you who got that honor.

“But I asked you to show me, I want you to teach me.” You beg him, turning your body on the couch to face him fully, placing a hand on his exposed bicep.

And his resolve snapped.

He tossed his half-full beer can aside as he stood, not caring where it landed. His hand took your own hand, gently but assertively pulling you up with him. He held onto you tightly, not wanting to lose you while weaving through the crowd in the Chateau, making his way to the bedroom he had made his. You caught sight of the first kook girl in passing, noticing the way she tried to catch JJ’s eyes, only to be ignored. Her face contorted in surprise and disgust while you laughed softly before JJ was yanking you into his room and locking the door behind you both.

“C’mere,” JJ instructed, waving two fingers towards him. When you turn to him, he’s facing away from you, grabbing a pillow from the top of his bed and tossing it on the floor at his feet. The bed creeks from his weight flopping onto it, manspreading while watching your slightly shocked and confused face, unable to hide his smile. “Come on, y’wanna learn or not?”

Your legs carry you to him, anxiously messing with the hem of your dress now that you can make out the bulge in his shorts. “Are you sure you want to do this?” His voice draws your gaze back to his and you can see the excitement whirling behind his blue eyes dropping you to your knees carefully, leaning into the comfort of his pillow.

“Thanks for the pillow,” You whisper, locking eyes with him from between his legs, “I didn’t know guys did that, I’ve never seen it in the porn I watch.”

“You watch porn?! Oh my god this keeps gettin’ better.” JJ groans with a smile, knocking his head back and letting you watch his adam’s apple bob, “I’ve never done it before, I just didn’t want you to bruise your knees.”

“Good to know I’m special.” You laugh awkwardly, wiggling with excited and nervous energy where you leant before him. He released an airy laugh above you, looking down at you again, his pupils dilated.

“You have no idea,” JJ’s voice was breathless and his words caught in his throat slightly, “Do you wanna get started on our lesson Princess?” JJ asked teasingly, running his fingers down your warm cheek, stopping to lift your head up by your chin. You nodded, shell shocked as you stare up at him unable to force your mouth to form words.

“I need you to tell me,” He whispered, leaning forward slowly until his lips ghost against yours, “If I’m going to finally corrupt you I need you to ask Cupcake.” Your eyes fluttered shut, taking in his scent as your heart rapped against your ribcage.

“I want you Jay….T-to teach me, please.” Your eyes flick open just in time to catch a wicked grin spread across his face before your cheeks were cupped in his warm palms, tugging your lips into his in a heated kiss. Your sighs mingle together, finally exploring what you both silently desired for so long. His tongue danced across your bottom lip asking for entrance as you gasped letting his tongue fight yours, forcing a moan from you that vibrated against his lips. He pulled away slowly, spit connecting you for a second before you’re licking your lips subconsciously. JJ observes your furrowed eyebrows and the redness flooding over your skin as your eyes stay closed in obvious pleasure.

“Still with me Gorgeous?” JJ asks, tapping your cheeks lightly, smiling excitedly as he watches you look up at him. His painfully hard erection rubbed against the zipper of his shorts as he adjusts his hips. Leaning back and resting his weight on his forearms, his crotch looming in front of you, your wide eyes telling him you have no clue how to start this. “Put your hands on my knees,” He instructs, shivering under your touch when you listen immediately, your cool hands resting against his steadily warming skin, “Good girl, now I want you to slowly move them up, like you’re not sure you want to take my pants off yet, tease me y’know?”

Your breath hitches at his praise, and he notices. You whimper as you try and follow his instructions drifting your hands across his broad thighs and letting your fingers tease under the fabric of his shorts, “You like being my good girl don’t you?” He asks, his voice teasing only slightly, his breathy voice making your thighs clench, rubbing them together desperate for friction.

“Yes, I do,” His eyes immediately catch onto the movement of your thighs, biting his lip while he watches you wiggle in front of him. He twitches in his shorts at the thought of you getting off to his pleasure, moaning loudly when he takes your hand in his pressing your palm directly into his bulge. Using his larger hand to move yours to perfectly cup around him and uses your palm moving it against his shaft as he swallows, desperately trying to collect himself.

“K-keep doing that until you’re ready,” He sighs, letting you continue at your own pace, moving his hand up to your hair to fix it, not wanting it to fall into your face as he watched your features for signs of distress, “When you want to unbuckle my belt and-“ He gasps cutting off his sentence when your fingers immediately jump to hastily undo his belt. Your shaking hands struggle for a few awkward seconds before you’re tugging his shorts down his thighs exposing his black boxers. JJ lifts his hips to let you discard his shorts fully, tossing them aside as you stare into his eyes triumphantly, “Good girl.”

Your wide smile as your hands tease their way back up his naked thighs just as he taught you has him reeling, practically shaking with excitement. “You like being praised, don’t you Mama?” He asks, tugging his lip between his teeth when your fingers find his cock again. He tugs your hand upward, moaning when he presses your hand into his tip, stopping your movements entirely until you respond.

“Yes Jay.” You whine, your tone impatient as you wiggle your hand under his, making him release a breathy moan laced with a laugh as he releases your hand, letting it continue it’s excited exploration of him. Your free hand started to sneak it’s way up his body, making him jolt forward as your cold hand found it’s way into his shirt.

“Who do you wanna learn this for?” JJ blurts out, not entirely wanting to hear the answer as he tugs his shirt over his head impatiently. Closing his eyes as your nails dig their way back down his chest, part of him wondering how you knew he’d like that.

“Myself.” JJ feels the smile grow back on his face, relief flooding his body as he opens his eyes, locking onto your wide gaze looking up to him expectantly. You want his instructions, and he wants to draw this out.

“So there’s no one in that precious mind of yours right now?” He asks, letting his eyes fall down your face, gazing at your wet lips before eyeing your cleavage and wiggling hips. Trying to suppress that part of him that wants you to stay here like this forever.

“Well,” You giggle, palming him through his boxers just over his tip, loving the way his head falls back with a moan when you apply more pressure, “Right now I have you on my mind Jay.”

“Fuck, you have no idea what that does to me,” He smiles towards the ceiling, imagining all the times he came in his hand to this exact scenario, “I thought you were too good for me, why’d ya ask me?”

“Some girls at the party were talking about me, calling me your groupie and saying I wouldn’t know what to do with you if you ever gave me the chance, and I really wanted a chance.” You sigh, drifting your hand down his toned abs to tease the elastic of his underwear, letting it snap against his skin as your excited eyes find his again.

“Oh Princess,” he cooed caressing your cheek, “You have always had the chance. You were the first girl I ever imagined doing this for me.” His eyes went wide when he realized what he had said, almost backtracking before you interrupted him to speak.

“Good, because I can’t imagine anyone else teaching me, I trust you, I want it to be you.” You state simply, locking your eyes in his gaze and taking not of the hitch in his breath. In a spurt of confidence you’re tugging his boxers down his thighs, eyeing his thick, throbbing cock as it bounces free, eyes meeting his again in a beg, “Tell me what to do Jay.”

“First give the tip a kiss Baby,” You do as your told, touching your lips against his hot, red tip as it leaks precum onto your lips, “Mmm, fuck now get your tongue nice and wet and lick up the middle, when it feels right slide my tip against your tongue n’suck on it like those Cherry suckers you’re always begin’ me for.”

You laugh, suddenly feeling more and more confident as you watch him come undone above you. “Is that what you want Jay? Or are you goin’ easy on me?”

“If you think you can take me in one go do it Princess, but don’t think I’m pressuring you,” He sighed, watching your tongue wet the side of his pulsing cock, “I want you to go at the pace you’re comfortable with.”

You smile up at him as you separate from him, letting spit coat your tongue before moving to lick up the prominent vein popping out of the other side of his cock. He groans above you, subconsciously moving his hips closer to your mouth in uncontrollable excitement. As your lips caress against his red, leaking tip you slowly let spit drip from your lips onto him, watching as it drips down him and pools in the bit of trimmed hair at his base. His eyes pop from his head when you bring your hand up to spread your saliva over him, pumping your hand slowly and twisting it like you’d seen in videos. You watched his furrowed eyebrows, buying yourself time to work up enough spit in your mouth to take him fully. His lips tug into his teeth as his hips stutter upward into your hand.

“Where did you learn to do that?” JJ gasps, stuttering and twitching in your wet hand.

“Porn.” Your sickly sweet voice has him moaning and tugging at your hair, forcing you’re eyes up to his.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He states before slamming his lips into yours, moving you back by your hair wrapped around his fist. You gape up at him wide mouthed, your hand speeding up when his eyes bounce between your open, drooling mouth and your blown out eyes as though asking for permission. You nod your head to him, not sure what he wanted to do but okay with it nonetheless. His free hand jumped to your chin, tugging your mouth open wider before leaning down and spitting directly onto your tongue. Rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you moan you shiver in front of him at the feeling of his spit mixing with yours, unknowingly helping you in your previous goal.

JJ chuckles at your reaction, moaning slightly when your hand speeds up again. You savior the feeling of his spit in your mouth for a second, your eyes latching onto his as you smile wickedly. JJ only takes a second’s pause before his eyed widen watching your mouth dip lower, his fingers subconsciously tightening in your hair, moving his other to grip the bed and ground himself. Breath fills your lungs from your nose, prepping yourself before teasing his tip with your tongue for only a second before you slowly slide him into your mouth. His hips jolt forward subconsciously, shuddering breathlessly when your eyes meet his over your lashes again. JJ curses under his breath, watching you take almost every inch of him in one go, sliding your head down his shaft, resting your hand at his base when you can’t fit anymore.

JJ moans loudly when you swallow around him, jerking his hips into you desperately trying to control himself, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cut him off quickly, shoving your head as far down as you can go, feeling his tip twitching in the back of your throat as you gag around him. You pop your head up, dragging your tongue against the underside of his shaft, moaning at his taste and sending vibrations through him. You suckle on his tip, preparing yourself as you gasp for breath around him. You start to bob your head up and down him, swirling your tongue as you go dropping low enough to feel his pubes tickle your cheeks, his hands moving to the back of your head to tug your hair into his fingers.

“You’re a natural,” JJ sighs, “Feel like imma cum already Gorgeous, fuck.” Gazing up at him you watch his eyes try and stay open, try to maintain eye contact until they flutter shut when the tip of your tongue grazes his ballsack unintentionally. JJ subconsciously pushes your head down, pulling a moan from you as he groans into his bitten lip, hooded eyes watching you intently now as he tugs you off of him with a pop. His hand stays in your hair, his eyes watching the way your spit dribbles down your chin, mixing with your lipstick and contrasting the black mascara running down you cheeks.

“I want you to try something, but only if you’re comfortable okay?” You nod to him desperately, ignoring the fact that your hair’s probably a mess in his hand, “Flatten out your tongue f’me,” His voice was demanding but soft still, a side of him you had never seen before beginning to come forward, “Yea, good girl just like that,” He says as he watches you stick your tongue out for him, spit dripping down the middle and directly onto is erect cock, “Now lean down and suck on my balls Sweetheart.” Your eyes went wide watching how he bobbed infront of your face. “If you don’t want to that-“

A shiver runs down his spine and directly into his rock hard cock when your warm tongue drags against his heavy sack before you suck one into your mouth, his hand tugs into your hair harder instinctively as he shudders. His shaft twitches against your face, your tongue swirlly against his salty flesh, tugging off him with a pop. You look up to him, makeup dyed spit dripping off your chin and down your chest, “Like that?”

“Yes yes just like that,” He gasps, desperation laced in his tone, immediately making you drop your head back. Sucking his other tight ball into your mouth, swirling your tongue while he shakes you slowly move your hand that was supporting your weight on his knee under your dress, circling your clothed clit with two fingers. Moaning around him as your eyes flutter shut feeling the wet patch seeping through your underwear.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” JJ growls when he catches your hands movement, his hand caress your face gently contrasting his hard tone. Despite wanting to listen your eyes stay shut as you speed up your fingers movement, “Thought you said you liked being a good girl, now listen to me.”

Letting your eyes flicker open you feel your cheeks heating up even more when you catch his gaze. His blue eyes only egg you on further, your fingers speeding up subconsciously while he stares at you with a smile. Breathing through your nose you continue your mouths exploration of him, popping your mouth off of his flesh only to immediately suck his tip into your mouth again. JJ’s hand tugs your hair into a ponytail as you bob your mouth on him, his tip hitting your throat each time making you gag and moan on him. The vibrations of your noises make his hips jolt uncontrollably, his body and dick twitching together as your spit pools on his groin and slips down his thighs.

He releases a loud needy groan when you force your mouth off him, his hand falling from your hair and clutching the blanket below him, mumbling incoherently while trying to ask why you stopped. He whines loudly gasping and gripping the bed so hard his knuckles turn white when you drag your wet tongue from the middle of his ballsack directly to his tip. Moaning when he twitched against your face, sucking him into your mouth while you eye his adam’s apple bobbing. Sensing he was close you stop your fingers with a whine around him, moving in order to move your hands to support yourself on his knees as you suck your cheeks in. You drag your mouth down his shaft and JJ whimpers, shoving his hand into your hair and tugging as he cums down your throat, filling your mouth as you moan.

“Fuck I’m so sorry, I didn’t have time to warn you, do you need’ta spit?” He asks, trying to ignore the tingle running down his spine at the sight of his cum dribbling past your lips.

“It’s okay,” You state simply licking your lips clean, the sweet tone in your voice not changing despite the more than inappropriate circumstances, “Your cum tastes so good Jay, look I swallowed it already.” You stick your tongue out to him, showing what little residue remains as he groans above you again.

“If you need anymore lessons, you can always, and i mean always, come to Papa Jay.” His breathless voice makes you laugh as you hop up to sit next to him on the bed.

“Do you wanna take my virginity too.” The burst of confidence making him cum gave you almost wears off at the look of shock that grows onto JJ’s face.

“Damn Mama, you are so fucking bold tonight, you have no clue how many times I have imagined you asking me that.” He smiles at you, his large ring clad hand gripping your thigh as it sits beside him, “Wanna tell me how long you have been fantasizing about your best friend poppin’ your cherry?”

“Forever.”

“Mmmhmm, that’s what I wanted to hear.” JJ groans, pulling your thighs apart and shoving you backwards letting your dress ride up. He rolls over you, settling over you where you lay on his bed, framing your face with his arms. “I think it’s your turn right now though don’t you?” Shivers run down your spine at his tone, subconsciously trying to rub your thighs together earning a teasing laugh from JJ. You brace yourself on his waste, tugging him closer to you as his lips crash into yours, tongues immediately starting to fight for dominance only for him to win with a groan.

“We should save your first time until there’s not a dozen people right outside the door.” Lowering his voice to a whisper as he lightly digs his hips into you, “And I think we need to have a conversation before we….move forward.” Letting his lips graze your neck as he keeps going he smiles at your gasps of appreciation, “But don’t think I don’t really, really want to right now.”

JJ’s teeth tug at the spaghetti strap string of your dress as he crawls lower down your body, letting it snap back against your skin with a sigh, “You’re so fucking gorgeous, so perfect I can’t even look at you sometimes.” The warm feeling of his tongue against your collar bone has you bucking against him desperately, hissing when his teeth nip at the exposed flesh of your breast.

“I love when you wear this dress,” JJ moans against your skin, his head falling low enough to push his face into your chest for a few seconds, wiggling it around dramatically, making you laugh before be continues his decent, “I don’t wanna take it off.” He groans, biting at your flesh through the fabric.

“Then don’t.” You say breathlessly, smiling down to him as you tangle your fingers into his hair. He smiles back to you, quickly pushing himself down the bed the rest of the way so he was face to face with your exposed thighs. With a quick flick of his wrists he flips the hem of your dress up, exposing your damp matching underwear.

“You matched your underwear to your outfit? That’s so cute.” JJ groans, dipping his head to bite at the flesh of your thigh as his hands slowly work their way up your thighs. He pulls back, watching intently as he slips his fingers past the lace hem of your underwear, tugging them down as you lift your hips to help. You watch him as he tosses your underwear behind him, his eyes meeting yours for a second seeking consent as he shoves your thighs further apart, putting you completely on display for him. JJ licks his lips as he eyes you, moving his hands slowly under and around your thighs resting them on his shoulders before shoving your hips down with his large palms. He groans loudly as he bites into the flesh of your thigh beside him, slowly licking his way to your center and leaving a wet trail behind.

His hands hold your hips down hard as they jolt upward with your moan and laughs into you happily. Eyeing the way your head falls back, your chest rising and fallen he quickly speeds up his tongues pursuit of your clit. Watching you as one hand hangs above your head and the other plays with his hair, JJ can’t think of anything that looks better.

“Oh my god,” You yell, the feeling of his tongue flattening against you, slowly licking back and forth over your clit before quickly sucking it into his mouth. You scream a moan at the sensation, tugging at JJ’s hair aggressively not caring if anyone outside the door can hear your pleasure. “Do that again Jay.” JJ’s lips pop off of you into a smile, his lips glistening with your release before he drops his head back into you. Flicking his tongue aggressively against you as he licks up your slit, groaning at the feeling of your nails against his scalp when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. JJ can feel himself growing hard against the blanket at your taste, your shaking legs egging him on as your release quickly approaches.

The feeling of JJ’s tongue prodding at your entrance as you clench on nothing has the tightening feeling in your abdomen worsening, making you whine and wiggle your hips subconsciously. The grip of JJ’s hands on your hip tightens, his nails digging into your flesh as he grinds himself into the mattress at your excitement. He plunges his tongue into you, collecting your juices on his tongue with a desperate groan, his eyes flickering shut as he moves to flick his tongue against your puffy clit again. JJ pulls back quickly making you whine and tug at his hair, trying to shove him back into you and forcing a wicked laugh from him as he spits directly onto you and dives back in. You shudder when he starts to lap against you wildly, your hips jolting and your back arching, your hands tugs on his hair harder as you cum, the almost painful band in your abdomen breaking in a euphoric release. Moaning so loudly you know for sure anyone close enough to the door could hear but you didn’t care as you came undone on your best friend’s tongue, breath shaking as your body twitches.

JJ’s tongue slows, pushing himself up to get a better look at your post orgasm face, your eyes unfocused and your mouth open in gasping breaths. He slowly crawls up your body, smiling in your face and you smile back at him the best your can, he groans at the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your hair sticking to your forehead as he smash his lips into you. The taste of yourself lingers on his tongue as you both moan into each other.

——————

I might wanna do a part 2 of this for their first time, would anyone be interested in that?

PART TWO: Another Lesson?

[pretty-little-mind33]

Friedrich Harding x wife!fem!reader

Summary: The letter with the news of your cousin's death comes with something more sinister; a marriage proposal. (7k words)

Genre: SMUT (mdni)

Warnings: age gap (35/22), porn with heavy plot, reader is Anna's younger cousin (no physical descriptions), enemies to lovers, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, arranged marriage, dubious consent in the beginning, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink, manhandling, aftercare

As a child, you remember dreaming of your wedding day, your hand clutching linen sheets, hidden under woolen blankets, cheeks burning, hair a mess, as you laughed with your sisters in the darkness. You would talk of gourmet four-layered cakes, blooming lilies, and of whose lips yours would kiss at the altar.

You can vividly remember how important Anna's wedding day was to your Aunt and Uncle, how much they fussed over their oldest daughter, your Aunt brushing out her blond curls as you and your three sisters watched from the doorway. Anna's marrying the son of a wealthy shipman, your mother had said, explaining all the happy commotion. You couldn't understand why that could possibly matter so much, especially because Anna had told you months earlier that she was madly in love with her future husband. 

That is what seemed so important to you. Love. 

Anna's wedding was beautiful. She looked like an angel in her white-lace gown, the color almost matching the white in the blond of her hair, and she looked up at her husband with so much adoration.

You were always Anna's favorite, perhaps because you only had six years difference in age, so she insisted you be her flower girl (even if you had just turned fourteen and many of your younger sisters sobbed for such an important role). 

Anna had kissed your hairline in the halls of the cathedral, squeezing your hand in hers as she promised someone would love you as Friedrich did her. Her words, albeit reassuring, must have confused your young mind because all during the ceremony, your gaze was stuck on her future husband and on the way he cupped her cheek so delicately as he kissed her.

A new, unfamiliar, feeling blossomed up in your stomach. 

However, as soon as the happy couple was wed, they'd sailed away, leaving you heartbroken and without hearing from Anna, apart from the occasional birthday letter, for eight years: eight long years, four of those you spent in America, working as a governess.

You hadn't married as your family wished. You had no interest in any man once you'd made up your mind you would only marry for love for there was no man you did love. So your father had sent you away to make money instead. As the oldest daughter in a family of only girls, that was your duty and you never once resented your role or that Anna's love set unfulfilled expectations for you. 

Not until you received news of her death, along with a marriage proposal. 

Friedrich Harding wanted to marry you? 

You'd almost burned the letter in fear it was some sick trick, but the more you stared at the cursive and read his words, the more the memories from the one time you had seen him came to mind, and with them the burning in your stomach you still do not understand even in adulthood. 

He gave no explanation, just that he needed another wife, that Anna loved you the most, and that he wanted you on the next ship to Germany as soon as possible. 

You read the letter again and again. How could he ask you to make such an important decision so quickly? How could you marry Anna's husband? Your poor, innocently sweet, beautiful cousin, who was now dead. Grief washed over you.

How could you take her life? Replace her?

You had wept yourself to sleep that evening and still, you had quit your job, sent a letter to your parents, and taken the first ship out—not exactly understanding why you had.

~ * ~

"Aunt Y/n!" you hear the small shrill cry of a girl as you lift the hem of your dress and gently press your boot into the gravel. The sky is bleak and cloudy, convenient for a graveyard. You strain a smile, making a small huff as a small girl wraps her arms around your knees. "Oh, you did come! Papa promised you would." 

Your hug envelops the small girl's back, your hand skimming her long blond curls, which remind you so much of Anna's. Your lip trembles. "I am here, darling," you murmur, holding her close. You lift your head and look up from behind your bonnet, the black lace ribbon digging into the skin of your neck. You see a person in the distance, a man who is reluctantly closing the doors to what you assume is the mausoleum. 

Bile rises in your throat but you hold it in as you stroke Clara's head. 

"Is that your Papa?" you ask her hesitantly. 

Clara nods, turning her head and holding you even closer at the distant sound of thunder. "Mhm. He is just saying goodnight to Mama and Louise. He brings them flowers every day." 

You nod solemnly, watching Friedrich approach and Clara moves to your side, her small hands still clutching the skirt of your dress. You press your palm over your stomach, suddenly wishing your corset was ten times looser than it is as you hold your breath.  

Once Friedrich is closer, Clara runs to him and he doesn't hesitate to pick her up. Her small black dress bunches up around her ankles, her legs against his hip, as she hangs from his neck, nuzzling her head under his chin. Friedrich looks at you and you inhale, shame burning in your cheeks at the way his gaze lingers over you. 

It is as if he looks past you.

"Herr Harding," you greet, moving closer, but pause when you realize the motion is clearly unwanted. 

Friedrich clears his throat, no hint of a smile on his face. "Thank you for coming so quickly," he pauses and looks to the side, adjusting his hold on Clara. Your journey had taken around three months, which is hardly quick, but you simply nod, unable to find your words. "I see that Sylvester informed you where you could find us upon your arrival."

He looks at his coach, where the man who had driven you stands by the door and tilts his hat. You turn and meet his gaze, your eyebrows scrunching up in confusion and you turn to Friedrich and shake your head.

"Actually, Herr Harding, I did not know you nor Clara would be here. I- well, I wanted to visit my cousin." You leave a solemn pause before continuing. "Sylvester kindly recommended the ride upon my request. Please, do not be cross with him. I told him I would have walked anyway—" 

"Walked? This late? And unaccompanied?" Friedrich sounds horrified. Clara, hearing his tone, hides herself further into his neck, her tiny hands clutching at the collar of his fur coat. He smoothes a hand up her back and sends you a disapproving look. "I am pleased Sylvester offered his services. I will not have my bride out alone at this time of night. It is simply inappropriate." 

You tense, sensing his irritation with you already. As punishment for your foolishness, you assume, he has you take Slyvester's coach home, alone, while he and Clara are in the other just behind yours. 

He had explained it was too painful for him to open the mausoleum again, but promised you could visit Anna another time. You try your hardest not to cry so soon as you sit in the coach, your body jostling around as the wheels travel across the cobblestone. You hold onto hope that the situation will improve. It had only been half a year since Anna and Louise's death. 

You knew to give Friedrich time. 

Your wedding day approached quicker than you had wished, your family sending their approval for a small ceremony with only you, Friedrich, and God. They couldn't make the journey so soon, and Friedrich didn't care to listen to your request to have, at least, your mother with you. So the ceremony happened in his local church, with only Clara (upon her insistance which Friedrich did not deny) and the priest as witnesses. 

As a simple courtesy, and what you liked to think was an apology, Friedrich had left a gorgeous white satin dress in your bedroom as the morning of the wedding approached. Next to the dress lay a veil, the same one Anna had worn. 

You felt like an imposter, staring at yourself in the mirror, the intricate lace of the accessory covering your face and shoulders. The dress was new. You assumed Friedrich didn't want you in Anna's dress. The veil was tradition, naturally it would be passed on. As Anna's cousin, it was only fair. 

You adjust the puffed sleeves near your shoulders as your mind wanders. Friedrich clouds your mind involuntarily, images of his lips on yours and his hands squeezing your hips. You remember Anna's whispering, all those years ago, about what happened on a woman's wedding night, and you can't help but feel warm. Guilt gnaws at your stomach, realizing you're fantasizing about Anna's husband. You shut your eyes but you can still picture Friedrich's hands; those long, strong fingers threading themselves in your hair as he kisses you and tells you he loves you.

Your eyes snap open as you stare at your reflection. Because he must love you? Or want to love you? Why else would he have asked you to marry him? 

Your corset feels tight once again, the wedding dress feels itchy, and your heels hurt as you stand at the altar listening to the priest's questions. Your future husband's face is concealed and blurred behind your veil but you can imagine his sharp blue eyes piercing through you. 

"On behalf of God, you may kiss the bride."

Slowly, Friedrich's hand lifts your veil over your head, wisps of hair fall into your face and he pushes them away as his thumb presses against the apple of your cheek, for only a moment. You lift your arms, hesitant to touch him, and you barely have the chance because as soon as his lips press against yours, he's dropping the veil over you again and pulling himself away, his breath shaky.

Your vision goes blurry again and you aren't sure if it's from the veil or the tears that threaten to fall down your cheeks. Your stomach is in knots as you convince yourself that it is a mistake. That he hadn't meant to kiss you so coldly. That he still wants you here and that he'll hold you in his arms tonight like a husband is supposed to. 

"Go upstairs," Friedrich demands calmly, hanging his hat near the front door. He reaches for a cigar in his pocket and mutters for Clara to go with her governess. 

He doesn't look your way but you listen to his request anyway, creeping up the stairs like a ghost; all dressed in white. You enter the main bedchamber and sit on the end of the bed, simply waiting. 

You aren't sure what to do as you wait for him to join you. For him to bed you like you had been taught to expect on your wedding night. But the sky soon grows darker and the door doesn't open. You hear no movement from out in the hall, no indication that Friedrich is near, and you don't even realize you have fallen asleep until you hear the birds chirp from outside and at the first indication of morning, you rip off your veil and throw it at the vanity in the corner.

You don't bother to remove your wedding dress as you hurry down the stairs, hands gliding down the mahogany railing, anger and hurt coursing through your veins. You search around the house, finally finding Friedrich in his study, sitting on his armchair while he has his breakfast.

You don't think as you storm inside. "You did not join me," you state, your voice strained as you stand in front of him. 

Friedrich lifts his gaze, mustache twitching when he sees you still in your dress. He doesn't look pleased but he doesn't answer and that only hurts more. 

"Ah, so you have nothing to say?!" you hiss angrily, walking closer to him. This time, he stands and you pause in your advancing. 

"Why should I have joined you?" Friedrich asks calmly.

You look horrified. "Because I am your wife!?" 

Friedrich chuckles darkly, shaking his head as he runs a hand over his jaw. "You are not my wife, Y/n. Anna is my wife. In every way that matters to me, she is my wife." He stares at you, his expression hard and unforgiven, and your heart shatters.

"I- I do not understand," you whisper, your eyes becoming glossy. You show him your wedding ring as if that proves something. "Then what is this? What does this mean, Friedrich?" 

Your gaze drops to his hand as you finish the question and you see that he hadn't removed his previous ring. His ring from his marriage with Anna.

He had taken off yours as soon as he had gotten home.

You lift your eyes to lock onto his, your eyes stormy with hurt and fury—which only worsens once he continues, "On paper, you are Frau Harding now. Which means, you will take care of my estate, you will help care for Clara as a mother would, and you will keep up appearances for the sake of my business and our families, but we shall never consummate the marriage. We shall never share a bed, do you understand me?"

Every word he speaks hurts you and you suddenly feel so humiliated. How could you have been so foolish? You clench your hands into the skirt of your wedding dress, the tears finally slipping down your cheeks. Your head hurts. All your efforts to have love have just led you into a loveless marriage, with a man who was never yours to love.

You turn your head away, his words sinking in as you frantically wipe at your tears, desperately erasing them from existence. You look up at him and see he hasn't moved, his expression still unreadable and his stance tense. 

"As you wish. Then I shall never be yours, and I shall hate you till my last breath," you spit, your voice unwavering.

~ * ~

Being Frau Harding proved much easier than you imagined. Clara is a sweet girl and she's an obedient child who learns quickly. The servants are friendly and the estate is grand. And your husband, although he does not spare you a second glance, isn't cruel. He doesn't lay a hand on you nor does he force you into his bed whenever he feels like it, which you learned from some of your high society friends is worse than a man who won't kiss you. 

You are incredibly lonely, all alone in the huge house, but you've learned to live with the feeling. Friedrich is away on business most days, which mostly leaves you and Clara on your own. 

Once more, on a sunny afternoon, you find yourself sitting on the carpet in her playroom, your dresses, the black color replaced by light pastel creams, splayed across your legs as she shows you the new porcelain dolls Friedrich had bought for her from his latest travels. He'd return in the early hours of the morning.

"This one looks like Mama," Clara says and brushes the blond hair of one of her dolls, framing the doll's pale skin, andhumming happily. 

You smile. "Ah, yes, well, she looks like you." You pretend to move around the little china tea set Clara loves so much, pouring some invisible tea for her. Memories of Anna's face cloud your mind, causing a familiar gnawing in your chest.

"Tell me more about Mama," Clara whispers and crawls over to you. She climbs into your lap, not caring when the skirts of your dresses become cumbersome as you chuckle. Clara tucks herself into your arms, still holding her doll. Lately, she's been asking you to tell stories about you and Anna as children, and as much as the memories cause an undeniable hurt, you always indulge her.

Just as you finish the story, one of Clara's favorites, you hear the creak of the playroom door closing and you turn your head. You see the faint remnants of smoke from Friedrich's cigar where he had been standing and your stomach twists.

"May we climb up an apple tree, like you and Mama did?" Clara asks innocently. 

You look at her again, a faint crease in your eyebrows. You aren't sure if you have any apple trees to climb in the gardens, but you don't want to deny Clara something that may make her feel closer to her mother so you simply nod. You stand and hold out your hand. 

"Well, go on, go find Edith and ask her for your coat. There is a slight chill outside." You squeeze Clara's hand and watch her hurry out to find one of the maids.  

You sigh, holding a hand over your stomach to calm your nerves. Just as you walk out into the hall to find your shawl and shoes, you see Friedrich standing in the opposite doorway. His gaze is hard and you gasp, "Oh!" 

"I pray Clara is mistaken when she tells me you plan to take her climbing," he says, holding his cigar between his index and middle finger, pressing it to his lips momentarily. He looks at you with what you can only describe is pure disdain. You feel nauseous.

"I was simply taking her outside, for some fresh air," you say, keeping your distance from him. 

"Without my permission?"

Your jaw tightens and you narrow your gaze. "My apologies, I did not realize I had to ask your permission to take my child out into my gardens." Your tone is curt and harsh. Friedrich narrows his eyes in return. 

"Do not take that tone with me," he states firmly. You almost wish he'd scream at you. Instead, he's always so controlled and restrained. It's almost more infuriating than if he would lose his temper. It is as if he is unfeeling. "Clara is not your child." 

Hurt swarms your chest. You know she is not yours, but the reminder hurts after all the months you spent with her. "Oh? Is she not? Then what, pray, is my role here, dear husband? This is what you asked of me. To care for your daughter. It isn't like I will have any children of my own, now is it?" you retort, venom in your words and Friedrich's jaw clenches.

"No. Because that would require a husband willing to touch me." 

"Stop," Friedrich growls, looking away and taking an inhale of his cigar. "Stop acting like a petulant child for once, Y/n." 

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment. "Oh! I am the one being childish?"

"Neither you nor Clara are to go outside at this hour. It is cold and dangerous and ladies do not climb trees. It is unbecoming."

"It is September! And hardly—"

Clara runs up, pulling on her father's trousers. "Can Y/n and I play in the gardens?" You stare at her, then your gaze flickers to Friedrich. He twirls his hand in Clara's ringlets, careful not to mess them up too much, and smiles at her with a softness he's never awarded to you.

"No. It is dangerous. Plus, you need to finish your French studies, Schatzi (Treasure)," he explains plainly and you juststand there, unable to speak up even when a look of disappointment crosses her features. She just nods, listening to her father. Once Edith takes her upstairs to her room, you glare at Friedrich. 

"You cannot keep her locked up in here! She's a little girl who craves adventure!" 

Friedrich looks more and more agitated. "You are a horrible influence on her. She needs stability, routine, not vapid stories that will put foolish ideas into her little head!" 

"Vapid? I was telling her of how Anna and I—"

"She does not need to hear stories that will make her sad—" Friedrich says sternly. 

You walk closer, clenching your hand in your dress. You're much closer to him now. "Make her, or you, sad?" you challenge and that seems to be the last straw for him because he slams his palm into the doorframe, causing you to flinch as ashes from his cigar fall. Friedrich lets out a shaky exhale and glares at you.

His eyes flicker from your face and then downwards for a moment and something burns inside them that you haven't seen from him in the months you've lived here. You open your mouth to make another comment but decide against it when shuts his eyes, his lip trembling with hurt. He doesn't speak either and instead, he leaves you standing alone in the hall.

~ * ~

Rain drums against the window as you lace up your boots. Clara stands by the door, looking outside as she watches the sky turn orange and pink. She turns to look at you and smiles, but there is also a hint of hesitation behind her icy-blueeyes. "Will Papa be angry with us?" She asks you, her voice small. 

You smile at her, putting on your coat and bonnet. You kneel and adjust the buttons on her coat as you wink. "That is the fun of it, pumpkin," you pause and think, plus he's an arrogant prick so who cares.

Clara nods and she looks outside at the rain and mud. She grins. "Okay."

All her worries seemed to melt away as soon as the raindrops hit her bonnet with a soft splat. She's a giggling mess as you lead her further into the gardens, the damp grass wetting her shoes. You take her small hands in yours as you dance in the rain. 

"Mama would not have allowed this," she says breathlessly, grinning as she dances with you happily and kicks more mud with her shoes. "But, I am glad we can do this. I am glad you are here," Clara adds in a whisper and happiness spreads inside your chest. You laugh and laugh and twirl so hard your expensive bonnet falls into the mud, rain drenching your hair as it continues to pour over you. 

Thunder claps, the rain falling harder and harder, and eventually, the sky turns dark, chasing you both back inside the house as you slam the grand front door, leaning against it and laughing.

You drop your wet fur coat onto the carpet as Clara does the same. The little girl keeps giggling. You kneel next to her to undo her shoes and run your hands over her arms to warm her up. Clara wipes at the soaked fabric of her dress, holding it up as it drips, and she keeps giggling. 

However, the sound of someone clearing their throat startles you both. 

Clara tenses. She drops her dress, turning around to stare at her father. "Papa," she whispers. Your heart is pounding as you stay on your knees, dropping your hand from Clara's arms. Your wet dress is clinging to your corset, the cream color of your dress turning half-translucent from the water. You don't dare look up at your husband as you bite down on your lip, tasting blood in your mouth. 

He wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow.

"Edith," Friedrich's voice cuts the tension as he calls over the maid. He doesn't sound more angry than he usually does and Clara's hand finds yours, squeezing. You hear the faint sound of Edith entering the hall and then Friedrich continues, his voice unemotional. "Bring Clara upstairs. Run her a warm bath, clean her up, and then put her to bed, thank you. It is past her bedtime." 

"Y/n," Clara whispers your name as her shoes, coat, and then herself, are hurried upstairs without a word. You keep your head low as goosebumps explode across your exposed skin. Your wet hair sticks to your cheeks and you realize you've left your bonnet outside and the curls in your hair have flattened. Your dress, the one you assume must have been Anna's dress is ruined—the expensive satin completely covered in sticky mud.

"Stand up," Friedrich demands, his voice strained. You do as he says, holding your breath. You hesitate to look up at him, but when you do you feel heat rush up to flame your cheeks. Your husband doesn't look upset, not in the same way you have seen him look before. Instead of contempt, his eyes are dark and intense with a feeling you can't quite discern. His gaze drops to the collar of your dress, where the sleeves hang and expose more of the skin of your collarbone.

"I can explain," you whisper, knowing that whilst he truly hadn't been cruel to you up to now, your behavior tonight was unacceptable and warranted any punishment he deemed suitable. 

Friedrich stalks closer, his jaw clenched. You back away a little, gasping as your back presses against the wood of the door again. "Please. I am sorry," you mutter, hands and body shaking. You aren't sure if it's out of fear or from how cold you are. "Please do not be angry," your voice trembles. Friedrich is still walking closer and what's worse is he hasn't said a word. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, preparing for a blow of any kind. He would be in the right to scream at you—strike you even. You had deliberately disobeyed him. None come. Instead, you feel his hand on your cheek, gently caressing your cold skin and you tense. This is the first time he's touched you since your wedding.

"You're shaking," Friedrich points out, looking over your frame. His eyes meet yours. "Do I scare you?" 

Your stomach twists at his words and your eyes snap open. You're breathing heavily now and his touch feels so foreign on your skin. You don't quite know what to do. "N-no–" you whisper. It's the truth, he's never scared you. What you're feeling now feels completely different than fear. It's a feeling you don't quite understand. You feel the dampness between your thighs, something that only happens when you are around him. 

Friedrich quirks a small smile, the first one you've seen directed at you. His hand slides down from your cheek and trails down your arm until his fingers curl around your wrist quite tightly. "Come. You will catch a cold," he says, pulling you closer and down the hallway into an open door. 

You don't move at first, eyes wide, but when he looks back at you and sends you a nod, you follow him into the parlor. "Friedrich, I- I must go upstairs. I need to clean up, please. What are you doing?" 

He leads you into the room, gently guiding you into his armchair. Your dress soaks the fabric and you feel out of place and cold. You watch him as he kneels by the fire, beginning to make it for you. To warm you up. You've never seen him make his own fire, the servants have always done that but he doesn't call them in. Plus, it seems like he knows what he's doing. The flame sparks and warmth slowly spreads across your skin. 

Once the fire is going, your husband turns to you. You're still shivering, but the warmth helps. Friedrich is still down on his knees, looking up at you with an unreadable expression.

"Is it working?" he asks, kneeling closer.

You feel dizzy and you whisper, straining a smile. "Ah, the fire? Yes, it is working. Thank you, Friedrich." You can barely focus on his question as his fingers start delicately unlacing your boots. He's being so intimate. You open your mouth to question him, but he speaks before you do. 

"No. Not that. Your little outbursts," Your husband chuckles, smiling. His hand slides up your calf now and hooks into your stocking, peeling the drenched fabric from your skin. You gasp, shifting against the chair and sitting up.

You open your mouth to protest but he does the same with your other leg. The flames from the fire cast a glow on his features as he sends you a warning look not to question him and your stomach burns. 

"My outbursts?"

"You think I have not realized how hard you try for my attention? How you do anything for even a sliver of my time. Have I been neglecting you, hm? Is that it? Do you crave me that much, Mein Liebling (my darling)?" His voice is sharp, almost mocking. 

Your eyebrows crease and your lip trembles. "You know what you have done. You have kept me, chained to you forever, without so much as the solace of your liking. I am an accessory, not a wife—you have said as much—nothing more so please, Friedrich, do not mock me." 

Friedrich looks up, his gaze dark, and he hums. Then, he lifts your skirt and disappears underneath the fabric. You sit up, your skin shivering as you feel his lips slowly inching up your thigh but you cannot see him. Fear strikes you. "Friedrich? What is—What are you—oh—" 

He's still underneath your skirt and he hooks his hand under your undergarment, his palm splayed upon your hips as you slouch in the armchair. 

Your face is burning warm and you gasp, covering your mouth with your hand, as he pulls down your undergarments and exposes you. You squeeze your thighs instinctively, attempting to hide yourself from his gaze. You wish to kick him away, but something inside you stops you. Almost like a desire you do not understand. Friedrich clicks his tongue, pushing them apart as he continues to kiss your inner thighs, near your most intimate place. 

"S-stop—" you whine behind your hand. A burst of unfamiliar sensations explode in your stomach. It feels good, but you're also scared of what this means. Friedrich continues for a moment until he feels you shaking and then he emerges from underneath your skirt. He pushes the fabric down, his hair is a little messy and his face is flushed. He wets his lips.

"It is alright, let me," he tries convincing you, gliding his hand up your legs and bunching up your skirt near your waist. You whimper, knowing he can see you bare and needy for him. You can see him now, see what he wants to do, and your fear eases a little. Your mind is spinning as you begin to understand. He wants to take you.

What had changed?

You shake your head, scrambling to sit up, and frantically push your skirt down. "You shall not touch me. I am not your wife," you say, your voice shaking. He has no right to touch you after what he had said and done.

Friedrich chuckles, his hand still splayed on your thighs. "But, you are, aren't you? My wife. Now, I am only doing what you want so let me show you what a good wife does with her husband." 

He grabs your ankle and lifts your leg onto the arm of the armchair, opening you up and you gasp. However, his lips find your slick hole, kissing and licking like a starved man.

He's rough and clearly a little angry. You tremble, tears in your eyes as you focus on the new sensations. You're whispering his name, your voice hoarse as you let out small whimpers. "I have been good to you," Friedrich grunts, tasting you some more and he moans into your folds. "I have kept my distance, I have let you stay pure, but you consistently disobey me. You put my daughter in danger and why? For my attention?" 

Your legs shake and you push up your skirt, finding his hair to hold onto as his tongue explores inside you in ways you didn't even know were possible. Tear stains fall down your cheeks as you accidentally tug on his hair harder than you'd meant to, whimpering. Your leg falls from the arm of the armchair and Friedrich leans back on his heels. 

"Stop being so damn difficult," he reprimands and lifts you up into his arms. You gasp. He's surprisingly strong and it doesn't take long for him to practically throw you onto the maroon, plush, loveseat near the window. 

The rain still hits the window and you gasp again, choking on a sob as Friedrich reaches behind you and with a grunt, half-rips your dress and corset. The materials fall over your shoulder, exposing your breasts to the cool air. You look up through teary eyelashes at your husband and your stomach twists in anticipation. Friedrich's blue eyes are dark and he licks his lips once more. 

He stands and begins to undress as your chest heaves. You sit uncomfortably on the loveseat, half hanging on the end, simply waiting for Friedrich to touch you again. Your mind screams at you that you should be scared, but you aren't. You're almost excited.

His hands are back on you, tearing more of the dress as his hands grip your hips and pull you flush against him. "I shall buy you a new one," he whispers in your ear as the dress, which was already covered in mud, falls from you—torn and ruined. Friedrich promises this as if he has noticed this dress was one of your favorite dresses. As if he's noticed you would wear it more than the others.

Which is impossible. Friedrich doesn't notice you.

You feel something hard press against your core and you gasp, hands grasping the cushions as you look down between your naked bodies. Friedrich looks different than you do between his legs and it looks hard and angry. You whimper, hand grasping for something more to hold than some cushions. You try moving away, but Friedrich's hands tighten on your hips as he keeps you close. 

His lips attach to your nipple, causing a small cry from your mouth that he quickly muffles with his lips. Your eyes widen as he kisses you, one of his hands leaving your hip to rest against your cheek, his thumb pressing under your chin. You melt into his kiss, your mind going fuzzy as he finally gives you what you've been craving all these months. Friedrich grins against your lips, positioning your hips as he begins to press inside you. 

You gasp, pulling your mouth away. "Shh, little dove," Friedrich's voice in your ear causes you to freeze and you realize his movement has paused as well. "It will not hurt you much. Your body is made for this. It will open up for me."

You're breathing heavily and anticipating some horrible pain. When you feel him fill you up, your body moving against the loveseat with the thrust, a tear escapes your eyes from the sting and the intrusion. Your skin bursts with goosebumps and Friedrich's hand caresses your cheek, his lips kissing your neck. 

You feel him slide out and you can breathe again, until he thrusts back in a little harder and you squeeze your eyes shut as you let out a small whimper. Tears threaten to spill from the pain but when Friedrich's hand comes to the back of your head against the cushions, holding you as he leans in and lets you cry into his shoulder. "Only a little while longer," he coos, his hips not faltering his movements as he groans into your hair, pulling on the strands. 

The pain slowly subsides, turning into pleasure, as his movements continue. You lose track of time and place as Friedrich makes love to you, kissing and biting your skin as he whispers mocking praises in your ear. As his thrusts become less rhythmic, you clench around him as his words become more pointed. 

"You're nothing like her. You don't act like her, nor do you feel like her," he mutters in your ear and your stomach twists as he compares you to Anna. "But, I cannot resist you either. Look at you, taking me so well. You are so beautiful. I am going to make sure you carry my child. Isn't that what you wanted, mm? To be mine?" Friedrich groans and you feel something inside you snap as warmth explodes in your stomach and a strange liquid fills you up, the substance smeared across your thighs.

Your body feels heavy as you let your head rest on the plush cushions. You blink, your eyes are unfocused and tired, and you barely register Friedrich shifting around and pulling out of you until he's leaning over you, his hand gently tapping your cheek. Your eyes flitter open and he's smiling.

A real smile. 

"Come. Up. You need rest," he says and drapes a woolen quilt over your naked, sweat-shimmering form and then lifts you into his arms once more. He's half-dressed again, just in case he runs into any servants, but you only fully come to when you feel a warm cloth pressed in between your legs, wiping away the white liquid and streaks of blood. Exhausted, you whimper and then some time must have passed because you feel the bed dip and strong arms pull you in against him. 

You blink, eyes tired, but you no longer feel sticky on the inside of your thighs. "Friedrich?" you mutter into the darkness as the figure next to you turns out the oil lamp. 

"I am here," he whispers, his hand playing with your hair. You can't see him in the darkness but his voice doesn't have the anger or firmness it always does. Instead, he sounds almost guilty. 

You let out a shaky breath. "Please do not be upset with me," you whisper, lips dry as you lean your head against his shoulder. You're savoring his presence, almost afraid he'll disappear. "I am sorry. I shall try harder to be like Anna. Please, I promise I shall try. I do not like it when we argue. I do not like it when you are away. I am lonely—" Your confessions are interrupted by shifting and then you feel Friedrich's nose press against yours and his warm breath fans over your lips. 

"You do not need to change anything. It is all my fault. I have been selfish and weak. I have been so consumed in my grief I have ignored what was right in front of me. Sleep now, all will be well. I am here with you, and I shall be here when you wake," Friedrich says it like a promise and he seals his words with a gentle kiss on your lips. And when the morning light shines into the room, you're both still tangled under the sheets; skin to skin. 

~ * ~

"Papa!" Clara shrieks, jumping into his arms as he steps down from his Coach, removing his tall hat. He grins at his daughter and scoops her up in his arms, resting her a little more uncomfortably on his hip. She’s grown up quite a bit since the last time he did this.

You walk down the steps, your movements slow, as you cradle your son in your arms. When Friedrich looks up and sees you, his smile only widens and he drops Clara onto her feet again as he walks over and hesitates by his son, instead cupping your cheek. 

"Good evening, my dove," he whispers. 

It had taken weeks for you to trust Friedrich's change in behavior. After all he had gone from distant and cold, to loving and warm in the span of mere hours.

Friedrich had explained everything that morning: how he'd rushed into a marriage, forced by his business and family, when he wasn't ready to move on, and how your presence—so similar and yet so different from Anna—had only made things worse.

He had apologized profusely for neglecting you for months, but what truly earned his place in your bed was his patience. He did not force you to forgive him, instead, he waited until you eventually did. 

Not long after your forgiveness everything had changed for the better when the doctors told you were expecting a child. Friedrich was over the moon. He was turned upside down, becoming nothing like the husband you had known for the last few months, instead, he was present and doting and it was as if he'd finally decided to court you. 

To love you. 

"I am sorry I was away when it happened," Friedrich whispers, gently moving the blanket that covers little Friedrich's face as the sleeping baby simply rests against your breast. Friedrich's hand moves up to push away some curls from your forehead. After all, it has only been two weeks since little Friedrich's birth and you were still exhausted. "Why you insist on nursing him when we have help for that, I do not understand."

You send your husband a pointed look. "He is mine. I will care for him." 

Friedrich smile simply grows and he cups his hand around your nape, pulling you in gently and kissing your hairline. He feels Clara's hand pulling on his tailcoat and he lifts her up into his arms again. "Do you like your brother, Schatzi (Treasure)?"

Clara hums and hides her face in his neck again, causing a low chuckle from his chest. You smile at her and then look back down at your son. He's so beautiful. You lift your gaze and see a look in Friedrich's eyes. One that isn't happy nor sad. Your stomach twists and you catch his gaze. "Are you okay?" you whisper, your voice low. 

Friedrich looks at you and for the first time since you'd fist met him all those months ago at the graveyard, he looks right through you. You inhale. You know where his mind is. Anna and Louise. You hold your breath, afraid you'll lose him again, but that cloudy look in his eyes soon disappears after a moment and a soft smile curls his lips. He leans in and kisses you, keeping your son hidden and safe between both your chests as Clara's feet sway against your dress and she rests her head against his shoulder. 

"I am. I will be, Mein Liebling (my darling)," your husband promises and leans his forehead onto yours and after a breath he says,

"I love you."

~ 🤍 ~

^ this is how I imagined the dresses reader wears (left: during the graveyard but in all black. middle: wedding dress. right: her favorite dress)

[girlyhornywriter]

Enabled

Your girlfriend had never exactly been "skinny". She wasn't fat by any means (not when you two got together at least), but there was always a certain roundness to her that caught your eye from the beginning. It was just enough to make it clear that she wasn't someone who put in any time at the gym. She didn't have those firm edges and defined angles that muscle would have given her figure... She was too lazy to strive for that. She just wasn't all that motivated by food, so she never ate enough for her weight to really change.

That was before she moved in with you, though.

It wasn't intentional at first. She spent a lot of time at home, since she only worked part-time, and you had always kept your fridge and pantry stocked with a bunch your favourite snacks... which also turned out to be some of her favourite snacks. When she lived alone, she was too disorganised to keep her pantry properly stocked, so snacks were a luxury that diminished fast at her old place. Living with you meant they were always getting refreshed as soon as they started to run out, so she didn't have that natural limitation.

And it started to show.

It was slow enough that it took you both by surprise, but she was getting bigger. Every morning, you noticed how much longer it took her to get ready, even as she remained oblivious to how her routine was adapting. She fought to put on her panties every morning, stretching them to their limit as they were pulled over her rounder ass; she needed to suck in her belly as far as she could just to get her jeans to button up, and the strain they were under was she let her gut spill back out was clear even from where you would watch her; she would need to try on two or three tops before she found one that didn't leave the underside of her belly exposed. She blamed it on the fact you were making sure she drank more water now.

And you... agreed with her.

You knew that wasn't the truth. You always took out the garbage, and always saw the empty bags of chips and chocolate bar wrappers that you definitely knew hadn't been put there by you, but even though the fact she was plumping up from all that eating was obvious to you... You didn't want to reveal that to her.

Because then she'd probably stop eating so much. And then you wouldn't get to see her grow bigger.

You had never had a particularly strong preference about your girlfriend's size. Slim, thick, you loved her no matter what she weighed. But this was more than that. The way she was so oblivious to the way her body was changing, the way her clothes were straining to keep up, the fact that the snacks in your pantry were definitely disappearing faster than they had been when she first moved in... It was pushing all the right buttons for you. Sex had never been better, and she still hadn't noticed that you hands seemed to be spending a lot more time than usual groping her softer ass cheeks or squeezing the fat roll that was forming around her midsection.

So you kept your observations to yourself, and made sure to double your snack purchases to make sure she never ran out of them while she was watching TV or gaming at home while you were out at work. You even started leaving some in the living room sometimes, so that she could indulge her appetite without even needing to think about it. You'd get home in the evening to find her lying on the couch, finishing off her sixth bag of chips, her jeans unbuttoned to make room for the extra belly she was sporting... And then she'd ask what you wanted to do for dinner.

But you weren't fattening her up. You were just making it easier for her to do that to herself. It was all her decision, after all. As far as anyone could prove, you just hadn't noticed that you were buying boatloads of your girlfriend's favourite snacks and leaving them all around the house for her to mindlessly graze on all day long. Her eating habits just totally slipped by you...

That excuse didn't hold up so well when you started bleaching the tags on her clothes so that she wouldn't notice you replacing them with the next size up any time she started struggling to pick out an outfit that she could still fit her fat gut into. But still weren't technically forcing her to eat so much and never exercise any of those calories off. You were just... making sure her clothes stayed comfortable! And that she didn't get self-conscious about rapidly approaching the plus-sized range of clothes! Yeah, you were totally just being a good boyfriend.

You were always on her side when she would complain that your favourite restaurants were sneakily reducing their serving sizes. Of course that's what they're doing, babe! Why else would you still be hungry after your usual order? We'll get you a second dessert though, it's okay...

And you always reassured when she would ask you if you thought she looked a little different lately. You look as beautiful as you always have, babe. I'm sure your face just looks a little rounder because of the way you've been styling your hair lately. Don't be silly babe, you don't have a double-chin, it's just the lighting. Your thigh gap is still there sweetheart, don't worry, your belly just blocks your view of it.

You did so much to keep her spirits up when she got laid off from work, too! Bringing home take-out for her to cheer her up when you'd come home from work, telling her she could spend as long as she needed cooped up in the house, encouraging her interest in taking up baking to fill in her now-abundant free time...

You were just being a good boyfriend. It's not you fault she got so fat...

As you get back from work with the three twelve-inch pizzas she asked you to pick up on the way home though, and watch her struggle to rock herself onto her feet from her position seated on the couch, you do feel a tiny bit responsible for what she has become.

Maybe you did enable her NEET tendencies, just a bit. But she has such a big smile on her face as she waddles towards you in the doorway, licking her lips, so she can't be that bothered by the fact that she hasn't really left the house in the past month...

And maybe she wouldn't be so obese if you didn't make her heavy-cream milkshakes whenever she mentioned being in the mood for something sweet. But could the dozens of pounds of flab and blubber jiggling and bouncing on her frame with every step she took towards you definitely be blamed on those thousands of empty calories?

An argument could be made that telling her that she didn't have to keep wearing clothes around the house if she didn't want to didn't really help her waistline... But you stopped being able to find clothes in her size eventually, and she was going to notice her outfits tearing sooner or later if you didn't do something. You think her new au natural suits her really well, though! You love the fact that you don't have to wait until you get her into the bedroom to see the thick rolls of chub adorning her once-flat tummy, or the thick layers of cellulite coating her ass and thighs, or her pendulous tits that bounce against each other with every step she takes. It's not like she seems to mind the fact that it's so much easier for you to grope every fleshy inch of her, either.

As she reaches you and opens up the first pizza box, she stops for a second, her hand already halfway towards her first delicious slice. She looks at you, and when she catches her breath, she speaks:

"Babe... Do you think I'm getting fat?"