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millers-girl · 2 days ago

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what it takes

chapter 2 of willow & whiskey

a/n: thank you all so much for all the love the first chapter’s gotten 🫶🏼 ps: I ended up changing the title of the fic because I saw someone post another joel fic under a similar name and didn’t want any confusion :)

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: the trek to the state house begins... and ends in a way none of you expected.

warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, blood and violence, death

word count: 4.2k

series masterlist

When Ellie woke the next morning, head lifting from where it had been nestled in your lap, she found you already awake.

Your back rested uncomfortably against the bookshelf behind you, posture stiff, but your expression was calm – watchful but not hostile. Your gun was within reach, resting on the ground beside you, yet your hands never reached for it.

Joel and Tess sat in front of you, a safe distance away, mirroring your posture. Tess seemed at least composed; Joel, on the other hand, was tense, his gaze fixed on Ellie.

Despite the clear unease in the room, you offered Ellie a small, reassuring smile as she stirred awake. Your fingers brushed through her hair – a light touch that spoke volumes and comforted Ellie beyond belief.

"Morning," Ellie greeted, voice dripping with sarcasm when she turned to the smugglers. The moment she moved to stand and use the restroom, Joel's gun was up.

Without hesitation, you moved too – not for your gun, but to shield Ellie with your body.

"Jesus," you cursed, lifting your hand up in exasperation. "You're one of those shoot first, ask questions later kinda guys, huh?"

Joel's glare flickered to you, but his grip on the gun didn't waver. You sighed, reaching down and pushing your own gun further away in an act of reluctant trust. There, you seemed to say. A truce.

You knew he wouldn't shoot – he couldn't. Ellie had made it through the night and if he didn't believe she was immune, he had to at least believe she wasn't going to turn. Her body resisted the bite.

Still, he didn't lower his weapon.

"Wow," you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest. "You must be a hoot during a trust exercise."

Ellie rolled her eyes, moving to your side to try another approach. "Do I look infected?"

"Show us your arm," Joel said flatly.

Ellie huffed but did as asked, rolling her sleeve up to reveal the same bite – unchanged.

Tess leaned forward, her tone more curious then accusatory. "What was Marlene doing with an infected kid?"

"She's not infected," you corrected gently. "We went to her when Ellie was bitten. Marlene had her tested every day to see if she was getting sick."

"Test her how?"

Ellie groaned, shifting from foot to foot. "I have to pee."

"Test you how?" Tess pushed, turning to the girl.

"They'd make me count to 10 and hold out my hand and then keep it steady. But, you know, I think what really impressed them was the fact that I didn't turn into a fucking monster. Now, can I please?" She asked, turning to you.

You hesitated, casting a glance at Joel – who was still gripping his gun like he expected Ellie to morph into a Clicker mid-sentence.

Your lips pressed together, but you turned back to Ellie, eyes softening. "Go ahead."

Joel didn't move, but his grip tightened.

You sighed dramatically, giving him a look that was more amused than combative. "So she survived the night, which is as much proof as there possibly could be, and you still don't believe, old man?"

Joel scowled. "Old man?"

"Hey, if the shoe fits." You smirked before stepping back to stand watch near Ellie.

Joel muttered something under his breath, but his gun finally lowered.

As you leaned against the doorway, listening to Tess and Joel whispering amongst themselves – they were much louder than they thought they were being.

You could tell Tess was starting to believe you; she mentioned Ellie making it through the night without turning. Joel, however, was less convinced, stating they should sneak Ellie back into the QZ and find a different way to get the battery.

Ellie was done and walking back into the room before they could come to an agreement.

Then, the four of you sat down and ate what you assumed to be lunch, considering you'd all slept through breakfast after the long, grueling journey the night before.

Now, in this abandoned office building you were in, the air was damp, smelled like concrete and mildew. You perched yourself on top of a mossy spot, stomach already grumbling.

"You two can share some of ours," Tess offered, holding out a pitiful-looking ration of dry, stale food.

You winced at the sight. "Thanks. Marlene sent us with our own."

Tess and Joel gnawed at their jerky—tough, unappetizing, and depressingly dry—while you and Ellie tore into your sandwiches, inhaling them. The stark contrast was almost embarrassing.

"Is that chicken?" Tess asked, eyes widened in something bordering reverence.

Ellie nodded mid-chew. "Marlene said they get it from smugglers... Guess not you guys."

You snorted at that comment, nearly choking on your bite.

"Why are you so important to Marlene?"

Ellie hesitated to answer, giving you the space to. "There's a Firefly base camp somewhere out west with doctors. They're working on a cure."

Joel hummed, low and unimpressed. "Mhm. I've heard this before."

"Whatever happened to Ellie – "

" – is the key to finding the vaccine," Joel finished in a deadpan mimic, as if he'd heard it a million times. "That's what this is about? Vaccines, miracle cures – none of it works. Ever."

"Hey, fuck you, man," Ellie snapped, bristling at his cynicism. "I didn't ask for this!"

"You and me both," he mumbled before turning to Tess. "This isn't gonna work. We need to go back."

Tess exhaled, rubbing at her temple before leveling him with a look. "Let's just finish it. Even if she is or isn't what the Fireflies believe she is, we'll get what we want."

Joel hesitated, jaw locking as silence stretched between you all. Then, with a begrudging nod, he turned to you and relented, "If she so much as twitches..."

Right on cue, Ellie let out a gurgling snarl, snapping her teeth together to mimic an Infected.

Joel's glare cut to you, and you swatted Ellie's arm to get her to stop. "She'll behave," you promised. "Okay?" You glanced between them, gaze lingering on Joel, trying to smooth the tension in the air.

"Okay," he huffed in surrender, going to gather his pack so you all could begin the day's trek.

As he grabbed his gun off the floor, Ellie immediately piped up, "Can I have a gun?"

"Absolutely not," Joel growled, at the same time as you offered a soft, "Maybe when you're older."

Ellie huffed. "Okay, Jesus, fine. I'll just throw a fucking sandwich at them."

After packing up, Joel led the way outside, holding the door open as you passed through. You glanced up at him, murmuring a quiet, "Thank you."

It was a simple thing, but it still surprised him. He hadn't heard someone be so polite in a long time. He didn't know what to do with it. So, he simply grunted in response but retaking his position at the head of the group, beside Tess.

Ellie, walking beside you, turned her head to take in the ruined city, her expression shifting from wary to awestruck. For the first time, she was seeing downtown in the daylight, and the sheer scale of it had her stunned into silence.

Your heart swelled seeing her take it all in; she was utterly in awe. It was a welcomed, rare view and you took a mental picture of the sight before nudging her.

"Cool, huh?"

She nodded eagerly, jaw still practically on the floor, eyes flickering across shattered windows, rusted cars, and vines creeping up twenty-story buildings. It was the quietest you'd ever seen her, just soaking in all the beauty the world still had.

Tess eventually informed everyone that the route to the State House required passage through a hotel. On the long walk there, Ellie kept nudging Tess with questions – about Infected, the bombings in the city when the outbreak happened, whatever she saw. It was clear she was starting to warm up to her. The same could be said for Tess, who did her best to answer all of Ellie's inquiries.

That meant you got stuck walking beside Joel.

"Your watch isn't the only thing that's broken," you commented absently, eyes glued to the pair walking ahead.

Joel made a low noise in his throat. "Hmm?"

You motioned to his side. "Your hand."

He subconsciously tucked the hand out of view. "Oh. Maybe a hairline," he muttered. "It'll heal fast."

"It'll heal wrong," you corrected. "I've got some compression wrappings and anti-inflammitories in my pack. You can use them when we stop."

He studied you for a beat before asking, "You used to be a doctor in the QZ?"

A laugh slipped out before you could stop it, but your smile faltered quickly. "No, I just... I just read a lot."

Joel hadn't known you for that long, but he could tell you were a shitty liar. Still, he made the decent decision not to press.

"What'd you do before the outbreak?" You asked quietly, shifting the topic.

"I was a contractor," Joel answered. "Used to build houses, stores."

"Did you like it?"

He shrugged. "Paid the bills."

Your brows furrowed at that. "You didn't have a dream job? Like, I don't know – CEO? Musician? Dad?"

His gaze snapped at you at that last one. Dad?

You shrugged. "My mom used to say it was a full-time gig."

Joel didn’t respond. He just walked in silence for a few moments before pivoting to Ellie, telling her to drink some water, making sure she stayed hydrated.

Tess took notice of the interaction, finding the corners of her lips twitching up ever so slightly. It was nice to see someone who still believed in small kindnesses.

She cleared her throat, asking, "Hey, nobody's gonna be coming after you two, right? Like, Mom... Dad... Boyfriends?"

You shared a quick look with Ellie before answering for both of you. "No." Your eyes dropped to the ground as you added, "No one's coming."

The words sat heavy in the air.

"Hotel" was a generous word to describe the building entered; "swamp" was far more accurate.

The air was thick with dampness, and a pool of stagnant, murky water stretched out in the lobby, complete with lily pads, frogs, and the occasional floating scrap of debris.

The waist-deep water was vile, seeping into your jeans and shoes, turning everything a miserable mossy green.

Ten floors up, your group hit its first obstacle: a jammed door. The only way through was for someone to climb over the adjacent rubble and clear the blockage from the other side.

Tess volunteered, which left you, Joel, and Ellie alone in the hallway.

After a few moments of silence, Joel eyed Ellie’s switchblade tricks. "Nice knife. Where’d you learn to do that?"

"The circus," she deadpanned, causing you to nudge her side, silently telling her to knock it off. "Where are you from?" Ellie forced the question out, trying to make small talk.

"Texas," he answered. And the moment he said it, you let out a snort.

Of course he was from Texas. He may not have oozed Southern charm but his accent easily gave him away. That, and how naturally gentlemanly he was – always opening doors for you girls when it was safe, going through them first when it wasn't; lending a steadying hand when you had to climb over a particularly tricky hurdle. Practical. Protective.

His gaze was immediately fixed on you, lips parting to speak before Ellie beat him to it.

"What about Tess?"

"Detroit... it's in Michigan."

Ellie rolled her eyes. "I go to school. I know where Detroit is." A moment of silence passed before she continued. "So, uh, you and Tess like a – "

Joel cut her off. "Pass."

She huffed, then tried again. "How'd you end up in Boston?"

"Pass. No more questions about me."

You cut in then, interrupting. "You got to ask her about the knife. She gets a question."

"She evaded mine," Joel shot back.

"Calls himself old, but his memory is sharp as a whistle," you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Kid, you were the one who called me old," he corrected, one brow lifting.

You shrugged. "Like I said – sharp as a whistle."

Ellie spoke again when silence blanketed over your group. "How long do Infected live?"

Joel was quick to quip. "Oh, I thought you went to school."

You chuckled, ruffling Ellie's hair while she shrugged. "I never said it was a good school."

Still, Joel answered. "Some last about a month or two. But there's others been walkin' around 'bout twenty years."

"Ever kill one?"

"Yeah, I killed lots of 'em," Joel answered.

"Was it hard? Like, knowing they were people once?"

Your gaze flickered up to Joel then, waiting for his answer.

He simply offered Ellie a shrug and a, "Sometimes."

"What about that guy last night?"

Before Joel could even begin to form an answer, Tess suddenly appeared on the other side of the door, pulling it open for you all to pass through.

"Saved by the bell," you sang as you shuffled past Joel – who, of course, held the door open for you. Gentleman.

The hike from the hotel to the museum—your next stop—was short. What awaited you inside, however, felt like a lifetime.

Even in its decrepit state, you were surprised by how much of the museum still stood. Most exhibits were intact, their artifacts frozen behind glass displays, covered in years of dust. It was eerie—like a ghost of the past stubbornly clinging on through infinite layers of dust, refusing to be forgotten.

Turning a corner from the visitor center, you suddenly froze. "Oh, shit," you breathed, taking a sharp step back.

Joel was at your side in an instant, gun and flashlight raised. It took only a second to register the sight before you – what was left of a security guard, his body torn apart, limbs at unnatural angles, as if something had tried to pull him in different directions at once.

"What the fuck did that?" Ellie gasped from beside you, making you turn her face into your chest to block the gruesome view from her. She didn't need to be scarred like that.

Your head snapped to Tess as she softly spoke, "Maybe... maybe he was attacked outside and crawled through the doors. Door was open – could've been him... I don't hear anything."

"Who would you hear?" Ellie asked, pulling her head away from your chest to meet Tess's eyes.

Joel's hand immediately shot out in warning – an unspoken command to be quiet. Tess had gone stiff beside him, eyes scanning, body tense.

Your stomach tightened. "What – did an Infected do that?" you whispered, your own eyes widening.

Tess and Joel shared a look before Joel turned to you and Ellie, voice low but firm. "Okay, from this point forward, we are silent. Not quiet – silent." Ellie went to open her mouth to ask why but your arm wrapped around her, hand clasping over her mouth. "No questions. Just do it."

Ellie opened her mouth to ask why, but you were already wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pressing a hand lightly over her lips. She looked up at you, brows furrowed, and you simply nodded before letting go.

The group moved carefully through the museum, Tess bringing up the rear, keeping you and Ellie sandwiched safely between her and Joel.

Then, just as you reached the top of the stairs, the entire structure beneath you gave way.

The deafening crash sent dust and debris flying, shoving you, Tess, and Ellie onto the floor. You barely had time to scramble up before Joel’s hand was on your waist, pulling you up, steadying you. Your eyes shot up to meet his, lips going to form a grateful smile, until a screech echoed through the halls.

Joel and Tess's guns were immediately trained towards the clicking of the Infected, while you began to slowly pull Ellie back further into the room, creating some distance. Tess followed, then Joel.

Then the Infected.

Just one.

Coming into the room and forcing your group up against a glass exhibit. Its loud screeching filled the room, which was otherwise quiet, save for Ellie's heavy breathing.

You reached out, hand on her shoulder, grounding her – silently pleading with her to stop breathing so loud.

You're okay, you mouthed to her, nodding encouragingly.

The Infected rounded the glass case, coming around to Joel's side, oblivious. The moment Ellie's eyes caught the Infected, closer than she'd ever seen one, her breathing hitched, loudly.

The Infected instantly turned to her, screeching loudly. Joel began to shoot at it, shouting for you to run, and you didn’t hesitate – grabbing Ellie’s wrist, dragging her through the room as Tess fired behind you. You stumbled over a display stand, the impact sending you sprawling.

"Run!" you shouted to Ellie, yanking your gun up and firing, taking down one of them just in time. You bolted, rounding the corner, breath ragged.

Rounding another corner, you spotted the beam of Joel's flashlight before you saw him, pressed up against another cabinet, reloading his gun.

Upon noticing you, he motioned you to him, letting you take his place against the cabinet as he continued to refill the chamber of his gun.

As if on queue, you heard the Infected nearby, quietly clicking.Your fingers curled into Joel’s jacket without thinking, pulling him closer. His body was tense, his heartbeat a wild rhythm against your skin. You tilted your head up, catching his gaze in the dim light. He was already looking at you.

A silent moment.

Then, his hand found your waist, pulling you even closer—steadying you both.

Carefully, you pressed your half-loaded gun into his palm, exchanging weapons without a word.

In the dark, your hand found his, exchanging his gun for yours, which was at least half-loaded.

Then, he nudged his head towards the exit sign in the far corner, and you nodded your head, quietly following after him, one hand clutching his jacket so you would't lose him.

You two shuffled along the perimeter of the room, only freezing when Joel accidentally stepped on some broken glass, the noise loudly ringing in your ears.

In a flash, the Infected was on you two. It knocked you both onto the ground, screeching as its claws scraped against your jacket. Joel kicked it off, scrambling up, but you were faster—your gun already raised.

One shot to the head. It dropped.

You waited a moment, ears perked, listening for more Infected. Hearing nothing, your slumped forward, forehead resting between Joel's shoulder blades.

"Oh, my God," you mumbled against his jacket, trying to catch your breath.

"You alright?" He asked from in front, gun still pointed at the only entrance to the room.

You nodded against his back before leaning your head back. "You?"

He nodded, leading you out of the room. You met Tess and Ellie by the exit, where all of you climbed out of a window. While Tess sat down to tend to a twisted ankle, you and Ellie made your way across a wooden beam connecting the museum to another rooftop.

You two took in the view of the setting sun before you, reflecting on the shiny gold dome of the State House – it was beautiful.

"That was insane," Ellie began, letting out a shaky laugh.

You nodded your head, heart just now beginning to beat regularly in your chest. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, showing you her arm. "Just a scratch. Least I didn't shit my pants."

"Proud of you," you teased, tousling her hair.

A silence passed before Ellie said, "That was scary, huh?" You nodded your head. "It was me breathing too loud that caused all that... right?"

You shrugged. "Probably would've been me tripping over something if you gave it enough time. Or Joel grumbling about how musty it was in there." That made her laugh. "You were just unlucky this time... You'll get better with more experience."

Soon, Joel joined your duo, also taking in the view.

"Is it everything you hoped for?" He asked Ellie, watching her take it all in.

"Jury's still out," she replied. "But, man, you can't deny that view."

Your smile matched hers as you wrapped an arm around her, squeezing her close to you. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head before Tess came over, ready to make the home stretch of your trek.

As you neared the State House, you reached for Ellie's hand, giving it a squeeze.

"You okay?" You asked. "Bit quiet."

She nodded, but her eyes betrayed her, flickering to the fresh scratch on her arm. "What if – "

You were already shaking your head, reassuring her. "You're good," you said softly, voice steady and sure.

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm your big sister. And big sisters know everything."

She managed a small smile then, gripping your hand tighter as you walked the rest of the way.

The Firefly truck was parked outside, right where Marlene said it would be – only, there weren't any Fireflies in sight... until you rounded the other side of the truck.

One body, already starting to decay.

And a trail of blood, leading inside.

Tess stormed ahead, motioning for you three to follow.

The scene inside wasn't any better. More bodies, more blood, more death.

"What the hell happened?" you murmured, instinctively pulling Ellie closer as you took in the destruction.

Joel surveyed the room with narrowed eyes. "One of 'em got bit." He gestured toward patient zero, whose twisted corpse lay slumped against the wall. "Turned the others. Healthy ones fought the sick ones. Everyone lost."

You went to speak but were cut off by Tess rummaging through the leftover supplies, looking for a radio. Coming up short, she turned to Ellie and snapped, "Where did Marlene say that she was taking you?"

"Uh, I don't know. Just west."

"Just west – okay, fuck. Well, I mean, one of them's gotta have a map on them, right?"

She dropped to her knees, flipping through the pockets of a dead Firefly. Your stomach twisted at the sight, eyes flickering over to Joel to find some repreieve.

"Tess," he began, voice sharp. "It's over. We are going home."

"It's not my fucking home!" she snapped, turning to look at him.

You tensed, stepping in front of Ellie. There was something in Tess's voice – desperation. Like a string pulled so tight it was about to snap.

She exhaled sharply. "I'm staying... Our luck had to run out sooner or later."

"Fuck," Ellie muttered under her breath, making both you and Joel turn to her. "She's infected."

Tess scoffed, yanking down her collar to reveal the ugly bite blooming on her neck. "Oops, right?"

Your stomach dropped.

She turned to Ellie, softly asking her to take her bandage off. She did so, and her scratch was starting to heal, the redness nearly gone now. "Look, Joel, this is real. She's fucking real... I need you to get her to Bill and Frank's. They'll take the girls off your hands. They'll handle it from there."

Joel was already shaking his head. "No, no, no. I can't. They won't take 'em."

"They will," Tess insisted. "You'll convince them. And if you can't, she will." She turned to you, and your throat went dry. "She's sweet and good and kind. Frank will see that. I mean, you saw how he welcomed us; he'll roll the red carpet out for her."

Neither you nor Joel could bring yourselves to speak.

Tess turned back to Joel, voice trembling now. "I never ask you for anything... Not to feel the way I felt, not – " She stopped herself, inhaling sharply. "This is your chance. You get them there, you keep Ellie alive, and you set everything right. All the shit we did." She swallowed hard. "Please say yes, Joel. Please."

Before he could respond, a rasping sound from behind made you snap around.

One of the Infected—half-crushed beneath another body—was waking, reaching blindly for Ellie.

You didn’t hesitate. You drew your gun and fired, but in doing so, the Infected's hand came to rest on a patch of cordyceps. Fuck.

As Tess had said, it grew underground, stretching long distances. And now that you had triggered It, you may have woken a dozen Infected from somewhere else. Now they knew where you were; they were coming.

Joel darted to the door, peeking outside to see a swarm of them running toward the State House.

"They're comin'," he said, rushing back over. "Maybe a minute."

Tess didn't waste a second. She pushing over a stack of barrels, oil spilling across the floor, then scattered grenades into the mess.

You watched silently as she did so, eyes filling with tears, throat burning as realization sank In.

"What are you doing?" Ellie asked, voice small.

"Making sure they don't follow you."

Tess stepped closer to Joel, whispering something to him. Whatever it was, it made his face go blank, his eyes darkening with something heavy. And then, before Ellie could react, Joel grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the exit.

"We're not leaving her! Get off me!" She wailed, thrashing in his grip.

Joel barely glanced at you—just a brief flicker of his eyes, checking that you were following.

But you weren’t moving. Not yet.

You turned to Tess. She was already reaching for her lighter, hands steady.

"Thank you," you whispered.

Her lips twitched. Not quite a smile. Just the ghost of one.

Then you turned to follow after Joel.

You barely made it a few yards before the explosion ripped through the air, a fireball swallowing the entrance to the State House. The force of it shook the ground, heat pulsing at your back.

Tess was gone.

Your group immediately felt smaller without her.

The weight of it settled heavy in your chest, pressing down, making it hard to breathe.

This was going to be the price of getting out west – you either made it or paid with your lives. Suddenly, the stakes seemed much higher than you'd ever anticipated. And, all you wanted to do was run back to your scrappy little QZ apartment and huddle under the covers until the storm passed.

Instead, you kept walking.

Because Ellie was still holding your hand.

And you weren’t letting go.

Not now. Not ever.

taglist: @orcasoul @lizlil @littleshadow17 @joeldjarin @mrsyixingunicorn10 @luvwanda @escaping-reality8

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfic #protective joel #joel miller x you #joel tlou #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction

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a-babe-without-a-name · 2 days ago

Text

Sit Next To Me

Chapter 6: Only For You

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

…Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

A.N. I saw 'sorry this took so long' for every chapter, but this is probably the one with the biggest gap. I'm semi-sorry , semi-not because this is the longest chapter I've written so far (14.3k words). It's also 3 am, but I am determined to post. So here it is. I hope everyone loves it. Very mild content warnings on AO3. Have fun, I love you all dearly <3 (more author notes may appear in the replies)

A link to the playlist for this chapter is in the replies!

EDIT: Shout out to @cicadastoner for letting me ramble some ideas to them and figure things out.

Read on AO3

October officially ushered out the last days of summer. Replacing the sunny days with falling leaves and the excitement of a fresh semester with mid-term blues. Unlike all the past semesters, you were fairly unbothered this term. Of your courses, only Hiemerdinger’s class had an official midterm exam. The rest didn’t bother and instead continued assignments as normal. It was clear you were one of the few to be spared the anxieties.

Viktor had gotten to class before you. You found him glaring down at the textbook in front of him and tugging his normally neat hair into a mess of cowlicks, his leg jumping like it was trying to run away from his body. As you got closer to him, you could tell that he wasn’t exactly looking at anything in particular. Just staring at the table, the muscles around his eyes twitching almost imperceptibly and the soft skin darker than you had ever seen it.

“Morning,” You said, sliding into your seat next to him, waiting for a response that didn’t come. You tilted your head at him, lips pursed, “Viktor?”

Nothing. You felt bad thinking about how pretty he looked when he was upset. The already strong lines of his face were that much more prominent, his eyes were darker, his whole demeanor more intense. He let out a shaky breath through his nose, still seemingly unaware of your presence.

“Viktor?” You asked again, then reached out and placed a firm hand on his knee, stopping the motion, “Vik?”

He sucked in a harsh breath, turning to you with wide eyes. He blinked a few times, registering where he was.

“Sorry,” He shook his head lightly, heaving a sigh before saying your name, “Goodmorning.”

“Are you okay?” You squeezed his knee, still shaking slightly, “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Uh, yeah,” He straightened up, placing his palm over the back of your hand, “Yeah, no I didn’t, I guess, sorry.”

“You’re starting to sound like me,” You joked, laughing softly, “Sorry, sorry. What’s up? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this anxious?”

“Your American habits are rubbing off on me,” He pulled his hand away and ran it through his hair, he leaned into the back of his chair.

“Really, what’s got you all worked up?” You tried to think if he had mentioned anything coming up that would cause this reaction, “You only have the one midterm test, right? Please tell me you aren’t worried about Heimerdinger's test.”

He hesitated for a moment, picking at the edge of the table and not looking up at you, “And if I said I was?”

“Then I’d tell you that’s dumb and you are the last person that should be worried about this test,” You told him, leaning forward to try to catch his gaze. He met your eyes, seemingly unconvinced. You leaned farther into his space, hoping he believed you when you urged, “Seriously, I mean it.”

He rolled his eyes in response, but fought back a smile as he gently pushed you away, a laugh slipping past his lips, “Okay, whatever you say.”

“If you want help studying, I’m always around,” You teased, “Not like you need it, but still.”

“Well, if I need someone to tell me the wrong pages to study, I’ll keep you in mind,” He teased, smirking over at you.

“Hey, that was one time,” You pouted, face going red thinking about when you had given him the completely wrong chapter to complete homework on.

Before Viktor could reply, Jinx and Ekko arrived at the table holding two more coffees than usual.

“Good morning my lovely lab partners,” Jinx said, extra bubbly as she set the two extra cups down in front of you and Viktor, “My birthday gifts for you.”

“Happy birthday, Jinx,” You smiled up at her as you took the drink, “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday,” Viktor repeated, picking up the cup curiously, “Why do you bring us gifts?”

“Family tradition,” Jinx shrugged as she took her seat, “Spiced anise latte for you, and a cherry mocha for you.”

“Yeah, Vi will do it too, when it’s her birthday,” You told him

“Hm, that’s very sweet. Thank you, Jinx,” He lifted his own cup to his lips.

“Of course, my gift to everyone else is going to be the best concert and after party this town has ever seen,” Dramatic as ever, “You’re coming to our show, right Vicky?”

“I’m only letting you call me that because it’s your birthday,” Viktor scolded, “Yes, I should be able to come.”

“Should?” You scoffed, hitting him lightly on the leg, “Don’t be lame, you have to come. What else would you be doing?”

He shrugged, “Studying? Working on research?”

“No way,” Ekko said, shaking his head seriously, “You have to come, you’d actually be the worst lab partner in the world if you didn’t show up.”

“Yeah, literally the worst,” Jinx nodded, equally as serious, “We might have to drop you from the group.”

“Yeah, sure.” He rolled his eyes, looking to you for backup.

“Hey, It’s my show, too,” You pointed out, poking him in the chest as you fought back a smile, “I agree, you don’t come and you're out.”

“Fine, I’ll make sure to be there.” He laughed, waving you away from him.

“Early? And front and center?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded firmly, “It seems my grade depends on it.”

“Sure does,” You told him, glad he seemed to be relieved of his undue test worries.

------

The rest of class was fairly calm. Jinx made sure to tell as many people as she could about the show, and the ones she liked about the party afterwards. Friday classes were lecture only and Heimerdinger reached the end of his presentation before even that allotted time was up. Everyone was grateful to be released early. As soon as he dismissed the class Jnx was up, practically dragging Ekko behind her on the way to whatever else she had going on today.

“You have plans before the show tonight?” You asked, bumping your shoulder into Viktor’s lightly as everyone filed out of the classroom.

“Other than reading the textbook front to back?” Viktor scoffed, “No.”

“Good, instead of stressing yourself out so much that you take years off your life,” You joked, “Come run some errands with me? I’m picking up a looper from someone on craigslist, and if you're with me the chances that I get human trafficked go down significantly.”

You followed him into the elevator, “Unfortunately, I do not believe I could actually protect you.”

You leaned against the wall as he hit the button for the first floor, you shrugged, “Eh, it’s more about having a witness than actually getting in a fight.” When the doors slid shut without anyone else inside, you moved closer to him.

“Besides,” You hooked a finger into the belt loop on the back of his jeans, and pulled him flush against you. He gasped softly, looking over his shoulder as you pushed yourself into your toes and rested your chin against his shoulder. One hand was holding the back of his jeans, the other on his waist, “I’m strong enough to take care of myself.”

The curve of his throat jumped as he swallowed hard. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You watched his face redden in real time, the tips of his ears the darkest.

“Uh, s-so,” He tried, voice catching before he cleared his throat, “your car or mine?”

You laughed and gave him some space. By the time you reached the ground floor, you were acting innocent as ever and he looked like he had just strolled through the Red District.

“I’ll drive,” You told him, “I’ve gotta pick up Ekko’s drums anyways, I’ll get you from your place in like thirty?”

“That is good,” He nodded, then he furrowed his eyebrows, glancing down at the ground and back at you, “Why…why did you do that?”

“Got you to stop thinking about the midterm, didn’t it?” You said innocently as you backed away from him towards the side door of the building, “Go home, I’ll see you in a minute.”

-----

You were the most grateful for Viktor coming along when you realized that your only way to reach the apartment building without having to walk a mile was to parallel park. You knew your truck front and back. You have driven practically every day since you earned your license, put thousands of miles on it. Despite this, parallel parking was not a skill in your repertoire.

“I’m gonna be real honest with you,” You said, truck angled awkwardly half into the spot, “I don’t know how to parallel park.”

“Eh, yes, I have gathered that,” He looked nervously over his shoulder at the traffic slowing and pulling around the front of the truck.

“I’ll just, uh, yeah I’ll just find somewhere else to park,” You laughed nervously, avoiding eye contact with other drivers.

“Wait, here, just calm down,” Viktor undid his seat belt and slid across the bench seat to be next to you, “You can do this, It’s not that hard.”

“Easy for you to say,” You mutter, now overly aware how close he was.

“Hush,” He scolded, and then, “Pull out of the spot, line up with the car in front of us.”

“But I’m already half-way in?” You challenged, hands tight on the steering wheel.

“God above! Will you just do what I tell you for two seconds?” He dragged a hand down his face, voice low. Before you could answer, he grabbed the gearshift and put the car into drive, “Pull. Forward.”

You did as he asked, hoping he contributed the blush creeping up your neck to anxiety. Once you were lined up with the car in front, he let out a sigh, apparently relieved you decided to cooperate.

“Okay, good,” He reached up and put the truck into reverse, “Now back up and pull the wheel right.” You nodded, following his instructions.

“Slowly,” He told you, leaning over to look out the window, muttering half to you half to himself, “There you go, just like that.”

The tone of his voice made you bite down on your lip, grateful he wasn’t looking at you in this moment, “Is that good?”

“Almost,” He said, voice softer as he focused, “Almost there, just a little more right…good now straighten out and pull forward a little bit.”

You did and then hesitated, unsure if you were actually in the spot. He reached over and put the truck into park.

“There, you did it,” He said leaning closer to the side of your face and huffing out a laugh, voice teasing “I thought you were an independent girl, huh?”

“Excuse you,” You scoffed at him, “I am! I just haven't gained the skill of parallel parking yet.”

He laughed at the shrug you gave him, “Okay, well, I hope you were paying attention, because next time I’m making you do it on your own.”

You rolled your eyes at him, pulling the keys from the ignition, “Yeah, no I’ve definitely got it down now.”

That was a lie.

You grabbed your bag and gestured for him to slide out of the truck, following him out the passenger side. The sidewalk was fairly busy, the mid-Friday crowd bustling from downtown shops to restaurants. You stuck close to Viktor, squinting around as you tried to find the right building.

“This guy was supposed to meet me down here,” You huffed, rolling your eyes, “But now apparently he’s too busy to walk down to meet us.”

“What’s the address?” He asked, looking over your shoulder as you pulled up the texts on your phone.

“890 Piltover Main, Unit Seven.” You read from the text, “We’re on the right road and I think it’s on this side.”

Viktor began walking looking at the building numbers, “890, right? This should be it.”

You followed him into an entry alcove, the address number almost completely hidden by ivy growing on the wall. You buzzed apartment seven on the intercom. It only took a moment before the door unlocked with a thunk.

“Trusting guy,” Viktor mused, pushing open the door for you.

You shrugged, leading the way to the elevator. It was small and creaked when you both stepped inside. You exchanged a worried glance with Viktor. Any other time you would take the stairs, but you weren’t going to leave him to die in the scary elevator alone. You didn’t linger inside when the door squeaked open on the second floor.

It wasn’t until you knocked on the door that you realized you had lost Viktor. You looked back down the hall to see him stopped in front of a frame on the wall, examining it closely. Before you could ask what he was doing the door swung open. A mid-thirties man stood in the doorway, unfortunately shirtless, an array of poorly done tattoos on display. He leaned on the doorway, cheap cologne making your eyes burn.

“Hey, uh, I’m here for the looper,” You told him, resisting the urge to scrunch your nose at the smell and ignoring the way his eyes scanned over you.

“Oh yeah, I’ve been expecting you,” He said, crossing his arms and adjusting the way he was leaning, an attempt to look more casual, “You’re late.”

“Yeah, sorry, parking was a bitch.” You said, pulling cash out of your pocket, “Twenty, right?”

“Yep,” He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, his eyes decidedly not on your face, “You want to come in and test it?”

“No, that’s okay.” You shook your head, glancing over to where Viktor was very unhelpfully down the hall, face close to the glass as he focused.

“Are you sure?” He asked, turning around and leaving the door open, an invitation you weren't taking.

“Vik,” You hissed when the guy was out of earshot. Viktor’s head snapped up, realizing you had gone ahead without him, you waved him over. Quickly he made his way down the hall toward you, his cane echoing each footstep on the warped wood flooring.

“Sorry,” He said, sheepishly ducking his head.

“It’s fine,” You whispered, slipping your hand into his, “but, I did bring you with me for a reason.”

You waited a moment for the man to return. He faltered when he found you still in the doorway with Viktor next to you, his eyes bouncing down to your hand in his.

“Sorry, I thought you were behind me.” He said, eyeing Viktor like a threat. The looper in his hand.

“No worries,” You held the cash out to him casually, “Here ya go.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in and test it?” He asked, staring at your face, “Make sure it works right?”

“You wouldn’t offer her to test it, ” Viktor interjected, voice low as he raised an eyebrow at the man, “if you knew it didn’t work.”

“Hm, well, I could teach her how to use it.” He said, pointedly.

“I know how to use it,” You assured him, holding your hand out for the equipment, “Thanks anyways.”

When he didn’t hand it over, Viktor took the twenty out of your hand, reaching over and placing the cash in the man's free hand and firmly taking the looper out of the other.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” He said tightly, eyes narrow.

Neither of you waited for a response before turning to leave. You took the looper from him, holding it in one hand and looping your arm through his. Letting him lead you down the hall.

“I agree with Jayce,” He leaned over and whispered, “Don’t ever do this alone, please.”

“Don’t let me do it alone, then,” You told him with a shrug, “Why’d you stop anyways?”

“Blue prints,” He nodded, slowing to a stop in front of the fame he had been looking at earlier, “Old, I’m surprised it’s not kept somewhere safer.”

The blueprints were of the building you were in and the two on either side. They were indeed very old, probably original ones from when the area was first built.

“Hm, cool,” You mused, then teased him, “I’m glad you stopped to look at these instead of keeping me from being murdered.”

“I’m sorry,” He whined, following you as you hit the elevator button, “I forgot that I was to be your guard dog today.”

“If you want to be my guard dog every day,” You teased, squeezing his bicep where your hand still rested, “You won’t forget next time.”

------

The next stop was a music store. Ekko generally managed to break at least one stick during rehearsals, you predicted he’d break a couple more in the heat of the show tonight, and you had been meaning to restring your guitar for a couple weeks now. Better late than never. The store was only a few blocks from where you picked up the looper. You had offered to drive, but Viktor insisted that walking was less painful than watching you attempt to parallel park for a second time that day. Despite the dig, the short walk with Viktor was pleasant. You had reluctantly dropped your hands from his arm, but stuck close to him while you walked. Comfortably talking about nothing important.

Inside the music store you wandered through the aisles, Viktor trailing you as you searched for the few things you had come in for. Finding the drumsticks wasn’t hard, but you quickly realized you should have asked for more specifics from Ekko on which ones to pick up for him. He had mentioned the brand, but nothing about what size or wood type to get. Even within the brand he wanted, you were left with dozens of options. You sent him a text and began reading the packaging of the sticks, hoping that would give you some idea of what to look for.

“They’re just sticks,” You exasperated, squinting at the packaging in your hand, “This should not be so complicated.”

You set them down, deciding that you’d find the strings you needed while waiting for Ekko to text you back. When you turned, you were surprised to find that Viktor had strayed away. He was standing in front of one of the test keyboards, cane tucked under his arm and head bent as he played. You hadn’t even registered the sound until you saw him. You watched him for a moment. His hands moved with a practiced skill. Tufts of chestnut hair fell over his forehead, almost covering his eyes as he played. Every couple of measures he would close his eyes, eyebrows furrowed for a moment as he tilted his head to the side and thought about the chords as he played them, lips parted gently. You took a photo before he could notice, making a mental note to save it into the folder overflowing with candids of your friends.

He had pushed the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows. You moved closer, watching the muscles of his forearms flex and move as his fingers pressed against the keys.

“I didn’t know you played,” You said as his hands came to a slow stop.

“Eh, I used to,” His shoulder lifted in a small shrug, “I don’t really anymore.”

“You’re very good,” You took another step closer, looking up at his face that was still cast down at the keys. There was the faintest line between his eyebrows, a tightness behind his eyes, “Why don’t you play anymore?”

“Have I ever mentioned I grew up Catholic?” He asked, placing his cane back against the ground and straightening up. He adjusted his weight, nudging slightly closer to you. Close enough that you had to tip your head back slightly to keep eye contact.

“No,” You shook your head, a little surprised at the sudden information, “I didn’t know that.”

“Yep, full-blooded Roman Catholic,” He clicked his tongue against his teeth and pulled in slow breath, “Are you religious? Do you know about Catholicism?”

“No,” You shook your head, you could count the times you remember going to church on one hand, “Not really. I mean, Joan of Arc was a saint, right? That’s probably all I know.”

“Yes, Joan of Arc was indeed a saint,” He laughed softly, “The cut and dry of it is that humans are inherently sinful by nature. It’s the way we are created and we must spend every moment of our lives atoning for that.”

He scoffed, shaking his head at the ground, “We are told that we deserve the bad that happens to us. That it is our fault…and when you are nine and different, that concept is a particularly deep cut.”

His hand tightened around the handle of his cane, the smooth wood creaking slightly. You reached out without thinking, fingers circling around his wrist. You held him gently, thumb smoothing over the pulse on the inside of his wrist, urging him to relax.

“So, instead of helplessly sitting through mass every week, I learned to play piano,” He shrugged like it was obvious, “My mother was thrilled that I was involving myself in the church, and by the time I was eleven I managed to sit at the piano every service and just…tune out. I pretended to listen, did what was asked, spent hours each week learning uninteresting melodies. All in an effort to escape the myriad of adults in my life telling me that if I served God, if I prayed hard enough, confessed my sins, I would be cured.”

He said the last word like a slur, corners of his mouth pulled down in a scowl, eyes distant. It made your heart sink. The image of him as a child, berated by religion. You resisted the urge to reach up and smooth the hurt on his face. You opted instead to move your hand up his arm, giving a gentle squeeze to the back of his forearm. The motion was enough to bring him back to the present. He sucked in a sharp breath, almost stepping back as he shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” A rueful laugh split past his lips, and he cleared his throat, “I’m sorry, you didn’t ask about that. Um, I learned to play when I was a kid for a purpose. I don’t need to play anymore, so I don’t. That’s it.”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize.” You held him where he was as he tried to move away, “Thank you for telling me that… I’m sure it’s not fun to talk about,” You scoffed lightly, knowing full well you avoided conversations about aspects of your childhood like the plague, “and I know it probably doesn’t help, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

He cast a sad look down at you. Doubtful.

“Really, listen, I know you didn’t ask my opinion,” You laughed softly, squeezing his arm again, “But I think that is incredibly fucked up, and I’m sorry you had to go through that, and I’m glad that you found something to help you through it.”

He let out a huff through his nose and was chewing on the inside of his lip, clearly nervous. You could tell that he felt exposed, let himself be vulnerable without meaning to. You stepped closer and looped an arm around his waist, turning the both of you towards the piano.

“What were you playing?” You asked, hoping to set him at ease, “It was very pretty.”

“Oh, uh, it was Leoš Janáček,” He told you, tension releasing from his shoulders as you leaned into him, “He’s one of the more well known composers of Czechia.”

He played the first few notes again, slowly, “Naše večery, it’s the first piece in a piano cycle. Written around…1900 I believe.”

“Hm, it’s beautiful,” You greeted the way he relaxed into you as he played, your hand resting gently against his waist as you watched his hands move, “Naše večery…what does that mean?”

“Our Evenings,” He told you, “It would sound better on a true piano.”

“Oh, well, be careful what you wish for,” You joked, looking up at his face with a smirk on his lips, “If you find one to play at, I’ll make you play the whole cycle.”

“You have an hour to spare, just for me?” He joked, raising an eyebrow at you under his arm.

“Always,” You rolled your eyes, laughing like it was a joke. Laughing like you wouldn’t drop everything in a heartbeat for him if he asked.

A well-timed phone call prevented you from thinking too much about that fact. You didn’t move away from him when you picked it up.

“Hey, did you get them already?” Ekko’s voice asked on the other end.

“Oh, no I was waiting for you to text,” You pulled the phone away and realized he had replied, several times, “Sorry, I got distracted. Which ones do you want?”

You tried to hide your disappointment as you pulled away from Viktor. You could hear him trailing behind you as you moved back to where the sticks were.

You grabbed the sticks he wanted (a pack of hickory, and a pair of oak to test), the strings you needed for your guitar, and a neon pink bass strap as a gift for Jinx. All the while Viktor hovered near your side, fingers brushing against your waist or the inside of your wrist. It wasn’t clear why until you reached the counter to pay. When the teenage cashier made eye contact with your chest first, you realized why Viktor hooked his arm strongly around your waist. You watched the kid take notice of Viktor’s presence, glancing away quickly as he met Viktor’s gaze. You pretend not to notice why his head stayed down for the rest of the interaction.

“Don’t tell her I said this,” You said lowly as you walked away from the counter, still firmly in Viktor’s grasp, “but you’re certainly a better guard dog than Lest.”

He made a triumphant little noise in the back of his throat and squeezed your waist as you walked to the truck.

-----

The rest of the afternoon had been easy enough. Back at the house, Jayce helped you load Ekko’s drums and the rest of the equipment needed for tonight into the back of your truck. Viktor helped you double and triple check your list to guarantee nothing had been forgotten. At The Last Drop, Vander and Sevika had been kind enough to help you set up the stage, something you had allotted a couple hours to when you thought you’d be doing it yourself. You even had time to go all the way back to your dorm to shower and change properly.

The stage was set. The party was ready for after. Jinx and Ekko were on time. Soundcheck went smoothly. The bar had filled up. The sky above the outdoor stage was clear. Everything was great. So great, in fact, that you hadn’t even the notion to be anxious. Not until right now.

You let out a nervous laugh, thrown off guard by the tears that pricked at your eyes and the ways your hands shook. You bent over, steading your hands against your thighs and trying to calm yourself down. You tried to focus on the lowkey sound of the opening duo. From the backside of the speakers, their acoustics were drowned out by the rumble of the large and still growing crowd in front of the stage. It filled your ears coupled with the rush of blood, making your head spin. You tried to think of the things your dad had taught you growing up. Grounding exercise to pull you out of a panic attack. It was too loud, though. You couldn't focus on the timing of each breath or your surroundings. Even in the open space behind the outdoor stage you felt caged in, like the sky was pressing into your back.

You forced your eyes open. Focusing on what you could see in your direct vision. The hem of your skirt, first, the flowy fabric brushing against the bottom of your shins. Then your hightops, the black canvas well worn in and pen marks covering the dirty rubber. The laces were looped around your ankles, keeping them secured tighter than they needed to be. You shifted, feeling the gravel crunch beneath your soles. Dark rocks made to let water drain into the earth below instead of pooling. You reached down and picked a small one up just as a hand came to rest against the curve of your back.

“You doing okay?” It was Ekko, voice soft as he checked in.

“Huh? Oh, yeah I’m okay,” You straightened, hoping your voice was more convincing out loud than it was in your head. You realized there wasn’t a good reason to lie to Ekko of all people, “Sorry, just nerves, ya know.”

“Why?” He asked, hand falling to his side.

“Why what?” You tilted your head.

“Why are you nervous?” He prodded.

“I…I don’t know,” You shrugged, “Because I am.”

“That’s a horrible answer. Really, what do you have to be nervous about?” He scoffed before going into a laundry list, “You know the songs front to back, we’ve practiced everything a hundred times, sound check went fine, the crowd is full of our friends, and your hair looks great.”

He flipped a hand through your hair dramatically then placed both big hands on your shoulders.

“This is supposed to be fun.” He said seriously, then began shaking you around by the shoulders until you started laughing, he cracked a smile, “This. Will. Be. Fun.”

“Stop Ekko, stop!” You laughed, grabbing his wrists and trying to break free, “Fine, fine. I’m not nervous anymore, happy?”

“Good,” He slung an arm over your shoulder, weighing you down, “Because we’re on in like five minutes.”

“Fuck,” You gasped, looking towards the stage.

Before you could descend back into panic, Jinx was barreling towards you and Ekko. She threw her arms around both of you, shoving her head between yours and Ekko’s and hugging you tight enough to hurt.

“I am so excited!” Jinx was practically vibrating as she pulled away, hands still on both of you, “This is going to be so fun!”

Jinx thrived on adrenaline. Her energy was overpowering. It was impossible to not let it infect you, something you were glad for. You felt the nervous energy leech from your bones. A shaky excitement taking its place.

“You ready?” Ekko asked her, unwinding himself from your side and playing his hands on her shoulders, she nodded eagerly, “You have picks in your pocket?”

She reached into the pocket of her pants and pulled out an absurd amount of picks. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she managed to go through most of them during the show. Ekko nodded affirmingly then pulled her into his chest, strong arms flexing as he held her tight, speaking just to her.

You smiled fondly at the couple and moved away to get yourself ready. Your freshly restringed guitar was waiting on the stage. You had picks in your pocket. Your water was filled. You had eaten. Your shoes were tied. You were physically as ready as you could be.

‘This will be fun,’ you told yourself. You loved playing, especially with Jinx and Ekko. Performing wasn’t necessarily your favorite thing in the world, but you had a good time during your few shows over the summer. Your friends were right in the front. Jayce and Mel and Lest and…and Viktor. You realized that the thought of him watching you made you nervous. What a stupid feeling to have. What a childish feeling to have. Nervous about doing something in front of a boy like you were 14 or something. He had already seen you play. Multiple times, even. Him and Jayce frequently set up in the garage while you and the others rehearsed.

Even early today he had twirled calmly on a stool in the garage, watching you intently as you tested the second hand loop pedal. He had never given you a reason to be nervous under his eyes. Still, you wondered what he would think seeing you actually on stage. Would he think you looked awkward? Uncomfortable and out of place on stage. Maybe you’d be too stiff, or too loose even. You wanted to claw your hair out. Before you could dwell on the idea any longer, Jinx grabbed you by the hand, dragging you quickly to the stage stairs.

“Ready? She asked, eyes glowing.

You took a heavy breath, twisting your sneaker into the gravel to ground yourself. You gave a nod and a smile that you hoped didn’t look forced, “As we’ll ever be.”

The opener bounced off stage, wishing Jinx a happy birthday and the rest of you good luck. Jinx went first onto stage, you and Ekko only a few steps behind her. She was on the mic in an instant. You vaguely listened to her as you set up your guitar, grateful for the moments it took to plug into the amp and test the strings. You took a few deep breaths, checking that the setlist and equipment around your feet were still secured down before glancing up. The crowd was luckily obscured past the first ten feet, the lights on you not giving you much visibility. You did catch sight of your friends, right where they said they’d be in the front row. Viktor was between Lest and Jayce, watching you. You blinked at him, giving a weak smile. He gave a strong one in return, all pretty teeth and encouragement. You were surprised how much it put you at ease. You let out a heavy breath and felt yourself relax again, in a way that you were sure would last.

You glanced over to Jinx, tuning in as you adjusted the height of your mic.

“Just in case you don’t know,” Jinx said to the crowd, bass held around her neck by the new strap you had bought her, “Today is my twenty-first fucking birthday!”

The crowd cheered for her. Shouts of ‘happy birthdays’ and dramatic ‘we love yous’ thrown her way. You laughed as she basked in the attention, falsely waving them away.

“And to celebrate that!” Jinx said into the mic, then paused to lean down to one of the amps, pulling out three sealed plastic cups. She went back to the mic, “With the company of my beautiful bandmates, I’m gonna do my first shot.” Then lower away from the mic, “legally.”

Ekko climbed down from his drum platform, letting Jinx hand him one of the premade shots before she bounded over to give you yours. It was one of those twisted shots, blue and pink liquor separated by a swirl of plastic.

“A pornstar shot, really?” You laughed into the mic, looking over at Jinx.

“Hey! They’re pink and blue!” Jinx defended, also speaking into the mic, letting the conversation be part of the performance, “I’ve gotta stay on brand.”

You shrugged in agreement, peeling off the foil top and sniffing it experimentally. They brought back freshman year memories of dorm parties and running around campus in the dark. Jinx settled next to you, slightly in front to keep from hitting you with the neck of her bass.

She lifted her shot, you and ekko mimicking the motion, “To a good show and an after party none of us remember,” The crowd in front of you lifted whatever drinks they had as the three of you downed the shots. The overly sweet alcohol made your nose burn. Jinx laughed, taking in the cheers as the three of you retake your proper spots on stage.

“Now let’s get this show fucking started,” Jinx plucked a few strings on her bass, testing the sound. She looked over to you and when you gave a confirming nod, she gave the same look to Ekko. He set the tempo on the drum for a few beats, counting down verbally before you and Jinx joined in. Together playing the opening to Darla by Vundabar.

Once your hands were on the strings and the chords poured from the speaker towards the crowd, any worry you had was gone. You felt light, high almost, as you played. Moving around to the beat of the song, mouthing half the lyrics to yourself as Jinx sang them.

After the first song, all three of you were in it. Any drop of uncertainty leaching out with the sweat on your skin as you played. It was easy, you floated through the setlist, hands knowing the chords and timing perfectly. You played and sang your back up vocals, taking control of a full verse here and there. It wasn’t until the middle of the set that the attention was fully on you. An almost original song. A derivative work technically, lyrics written by Ekko set to a slightly altered composition of a Dystopia song.

Jinx was in love with this one, she had coaxed her dad into letting her play with the lighting just a little bit. The light dimmed slowly as you set for the song, adjusting settings on amps and Ekko preparing extra sticks. You plucked a cigarette out of the pack in your pocket, placing it in your lips as you crouched down on the edge of the stage. Right in front of Viktor.

You didn’t say anything, just rested your guitar in your lap and let the bottom of your skirt pool against the ground around you. You didn’t need to search for eye contact, it was there in an instant. Only seconds later when he was stepping closer and holding a flame up to you. You didn’t look away from him when you took the drag and blew the smoke down to his face.

Without so much as a word you stood back to the audience as the lights reached their end, only blue spotlights on you, Jinx, and Ekko remaining. The chords rang out exactly as you had wanted them, low and haunting as Ekko shimmered the cymbals of his set. This was your favorite song to play. Your favorite to practice, to show off to people.

It felt good to play it in front of everyone. Felt better knowing how you were playing in front of him.

------

That feeling carried you to the end of the show. Carried you even when Viktor politely moved to the bar at the back of the crowd to lean against a stool. He gave a reassuring wave from where he sat, knuckles pressing into his thigh. Carried you through breakdown, carried you to your truck packed with gear, carried you to the Rune Street house where the boys unloaded you truck while you changed in Cait’s room.

Carried you until you finally stopped moving. You leaned against the kitchen sink, body heavy as you sipped at a solo cup of tap water. You took slow breaths, staring at a spot on the floor as you tried to bring yourself back up from the ground. The excited and already intoxicated people around you did nothing to help. You stayed in the twilight zone until a pale hand waved in front of your face.

“Visiting another universe tonight?” Viktor asked as you snapped your head up to look at him.

“Sorry,” You shook your head, blinking like you had just woken from sleep, “Sorry, I just…zoned out.”

“Hm, well welcome back,” He laughed softly, moving closer to you as someone tried to squeeze around his back to get through the kitchen. He stayed close even when the person was gone, he even leaned in further. Shouting over the music, “You did great tonight. You played incredibly.”

“Thank you, that’s very sweet,” You smiled up at him, still feeling weak.

He caught on quickly, steadying a hand on your shoulder, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You tried to wave it off, he narrowed his eyes at you, “I’m just tired is all, kinda crashing.”

“That’s reasonable,” He frowned, then pulled away, just enough to fish a silver key from his pocket and hold it out to you, “My room is the only one that locks, you can crash in there for a bit if you’d like.”

It was a tempting offer, but you knew if you tried to sleep now you’d be out until morning, “I’m okay,” You told him, “I wanna hang, just gotta power through.”

“Well in that case,”

He put the key back in his pocket and reached past you, grabbing a cup from the stack and setting it on the counter next to the fridge. He took your cup from your hands and dumped the water out, setting it next to his. You were finally taking him in now. Too spaced to notice his wardrobe change post-show. Jinx’s party was rave themed, the music and lights and outfits all reflecting this.

Apparently, Viktor was not excluded. You remembered Ekko offering his close to Jayce and Viktor, his style being that of someone who actually went to raves. This was not what you had expected, though. Viktor, who only ever wore the most reserved of outfits, was in jeans that were purposefully too big, except for where they rested between his hips and waist. Cut outs in the side, just below the belt line, showed off completely the line and curve of his narrow hips. Pale skin practically glowing in the light of the fridge as Viktor opened it. It was cut in such a way that there was no chance he was wearing anything underneath the jeans. And almost more jarring was the fact that Viktor was wearing a crop top. The fairly normal t-shirt came to a harsh stop right at his navel, showing off the softest of happy trails and curve of muscle. You had seen him undressed before. You’ve seen him in less clothing than this even, at the coast. Nothing you were witnessing was new to you, but there was just something about it. About how intentional every bare inch was.

You glanced away harshley, realizing you were very obviously staring at his body as he rummaged around in the fridge. He pulled out two narrow cans and set them on the counter. You picked one up, the cold condensation biting at your hand.

“Red Bull?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Patience,” He scolded, grabbing the can and setting it back down on the counter.

He slid open the freezer drawer and moved things around, pulling a glass bottle out from underneath an ancient bag of frozen vegetables. He set it to the side, the clear liquor inside reflecting the lights in the room. All the labeling was in Czech. He dumped the energy drinks into the cups and then twisted the cap of the liquor with a satisfying pop.

“Don’t tell anyone I let you have this,” He told you, pouring a hearty shot into his cup, “They’ll make me share with them too.”

“Oh, so I’m special?” You joked, he gave you a look that very loudly screamed well, obviously. He paused to size you up for a moment, and came to the conclusion that half a shot would do. You scoffed, “Hey, I’m not a lightweight.”

“Eh, maybe not,” He said, “But this is not American liquor, and you are not a European woman.”

“Would you prefer I was?” You joked, rolling your eyes as he added another splash to his own drink before recorking it.

“Of course not,” He held the cup out to you, “Na zdravi!”

You bit back a smile when you repeated the words and tapped the edge of your cup against his. He watched you hesitantly, cup hovering near his lips as he waited for you to take a sip. When you did, you were admittedly surprised at the strength of the small shot. You were even more surprised at the amount that he had poured into his own cup.

“Christ, Vik,” You gasped, trying not to flinch at the burn, “You’re gonna go blind.”

“See, I told you” He laughed, taking a sip of his own drink with ease, “Only a small amount for the American. If it’s too much I can add more Red Bull.”

“No, it’s good,” You sipped again, taking the liquor better now that you were ready for it, “Thank you for being my bartender tonight,”

“What, no tip?” He teased, smirking down at you.

“Unfortunately, these shorts leave no space for my wallet,” You ran a hand over the side of the tight silvery shorts you had changed into. So tight you had even foregone underwear beneath them, “Next time.”

“I’m sure,” He leaned in to avoid shouting as the music and crowd became louder, he reached out and ran a finger over the waistband of the shorts, “I mean, I’m sure a few dollar bills could fit here, no?” His hand dropped lower down your side, fingertips brushing against the top of your thigh high socks, “Maybe here even?”

You slapped his hand away, “Not nice to imply I’m a stripper,” You pouted as he laughed and waved a hand in front of himself defensively.

“I kid, I swear,” He assured, “Where did you even get these clothes anyways?”

“It’s October in America, baby,” You laughed, “there's a halloween store taking up residence in every empty building in the country right now.”

“Yes, I forget about the holiday here,” He shrugged, “It’s not a large thing in Czechia.”

“Yeah, I know, Europe is lame like that,” You joked, turning your nose up.

“Is that so,” He questioned, then reached out to take your drink from you, “Then I guess you don’t like the European liquor if it’s so lame then…”

“Wait no,” You giggled, trying to reach for the cup as he held it away from you, “No I lied, I swear.”

He laughed and relinquished the cup back to you. You gratefully took another sip, holding eye contact with him to prove you liked it.

“That’s what I thought.” He leaned back against the fridge, “Tell me if you want another,”

You nodded, then reached out and tugged the high hem of his shirt, “I like this, by the way, suits you.”

“Hm, that so?” You asked, dipping his chin to examine his own outfit, “I tried for something a little more low-key, but Jayce wasn’t having it.”

“Ah, I imagine he’s dressed even sluttier?” You barked a laugh.

“Oh of course,” Viktor nodded with wide eyes, “are you saying I’m a slut?”

“No, of course not,” You shrugged, “Just that you are dressed like a slut.”

“I don't think it’s that slutty,” He looked down at his outfit, again.

“What’s this then?” You slid a hand down his side, gripping his bare hip where t was exposed by the cutout, “This is pretty slutty, especially for a man.”

“And what’s your opinion of that?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Of what?”

“Of slutty men?” His eyes darkened, “Is that something you enjoy?”

“Who doesn’t,” You said innocently, taking another sip in hopes of hiding your blush.

“Hm, good to know,” He hummed, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. He leaned in just a touch more, mouth open to continue his sentence when Jayce was suddenly right next to you, a hand on Viktor’s shoulder.

The intrusion made you jump, nearly spilling your drink as you flinched away.

“Hey, oh sorry,” Jayce said, realizing he had barged in. He was wasted already, pretty cheeks already flushed red. He was indeed somehow dressed sluttier than Viktor. A mesh top and chaps of all things, underneath only a pair of shimmery shorts, almost as tight as yours.

“What did I say?” Viktor laughed, looking down at you, you just widened your eyes in agreement.

“Huh?” Jayce tilted his head at the two of you.

“Nothing,” Viktor waved him off, “What’s up?”

“We need another person for beer pong,” Jayce told you both, “Are either of you down?”

You looked down at the still mostly full and very strong drink in your hand, “I’ll pass for now, maybe later if you guys play another round.”

“I’ll go,” Viktor told him with a shrug.

“Good,” Jayce clapped him on the shoulder, “You can be Sky’s partner.”

That twisted something in your chest, but you forced it away as you took another drink. Viktor just nodded and went to follow Jayce towards where the table was set up in the garage. He turned back to you when he realized you weren’t following.

“Are you not coming?” He tilted his head.

“No, it’s okay, I should probably go find Lest, actually,” You told him, trying to act casual, “You go, though, Defeat Jayce in my honor. I’ll find you later.”

“Okay,” He frowned slightly, hesitating before turning away to follow Jayce.

You watched him walk away, doing your bets to look unbothered. Even with him out of your proximity, the heat still lingered. You shoved your hand under the ice dispenser of the fridge, catching a cube and popping it into your mouth before wandering to the living room. You wanted to dance with Lest, or grind up against a stranger, anything to get him off your mind.

----

Hours later, when you became bored of fending off freshman boys on the dance floor, you found yourself watching Viktor from across the room like a fucking creep. You knew you were and you couldn’t help it. He looked great. In that stupid fucking crop top and insufferable pair of borrowed jeans. He looked great and so did Sky. She looked great in the electric blue outfit you had helped her pick out. She looked great laughing and fanning her alcohol warmed cheeks.

She looked great with her hands all over Viktor. Playing with his neat hair. Rubbing a hand over his shoulder. Leaning half way on top of him every time she laughed.

The spot on Viktor’s other side was empty. You could claim it easily. Insert yourself into their conversation or, most likely, pull his attention completely to you. You could sideline her in an instant.

You had officially fucking lost it. You couldn’t believe you were pouting against the wall at a party. Face half hidden behind your cup, pretending to sip your sad mixture of three parts american vodka one part flat orange crush. Unrightfully angry at one of your closest friends.

She’d be fine, though. There were plenty of men who’d jump at the chance to sweep her off her feet, take her virginity, and propose before graduation. Why did she need to be so focused on him? Was she blind? Viktor was obsessed with you and you knew it. You had tried to discourage him at first. Some point since then and now, you had succumbed to the idea that you were just waiting for eachother. Well, more of him, waiting for you, but still. You couldn't break your composure, not even for someone like him.

Your ankles twitched, your angry body coaxing your drunk brain into a rash decision.

You couldn’t. It would be too obvious. Too fucking mean, like anything about this wasn’t already. You couldn't force it. He had to come to you. You could at least give him the option.

You brushed your fingertips against the side of your ear, ensuring that the cigarette you had tucked there earlier hadn't disappeared. You sent an innocent enough text - cig out back? - and walked out the back door before you could see him open the message. The ball was in his court now. You weren’t going to control him and he could make whatever decision he felt like. If he didn’t come, then you’d get a whole cigarette to yourself. A win-win situation, really.

Outside the sky was still dripping. The storm that had started shortly after the party and hadn’t really let up until now. The backyard was completely barren, everyone still crowded into the house and garage to keep out of the rain. You rounded the side of the house, opting to let the cool wet air clear away the stickiness from inside. You had barely rested your back against the siding when your name was being hissed into the dark.

“Over here,” You beckoned Viktor over to your corner of the yard.

You didn't need a whole cigarette anyways.

“Got a light?” You asked as he settled next to you, shoulder pressing to yours.

Wordlessly he pulled one from his pocket, holding the flame out in front of you. You pressed the cigarette to your lips and lent towards him. Eyes fell shut as you pulled the flame in, smoke filling your lungs.

“Where have you been?” You asked, smoke burning your nose as you exhaled and passed him the cigarette, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Around,” He shrugged, taking the cigarette and bumping his shoulder against yours with a smirk, “You have been looking for me?”

“Shut up,” You muttered, hitting the back of your hand against his bare stomach.

“Ah, milá ,” He sighed, cigarette hanging from his lip as he grabbed your arm and pulled you to stand in front of him, “Jsi legrační dívka,”

His hands came to rest on the small of your back. You leaned against him, stealing back the cigarette from his mouth and taking a drag. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, eyes on your lips.

“Are you drunk?” You asked him, taking a quick drag and holding the cigarette between you for him to take.

“Eh, a little,” He blew smoke out of his nose. Hot. “Me and Jayce smoked earlier, but the high is fading. You?”

“Also a little,” You told him, reaching up to touch his face. You ghosted a fingertip over the mark above his lip. So pretty. So inviting.

You were drunk…enough. It didn’t count if you were drunk.

Your hand moved to his jaw and pulled him towards you, lips brushing against his softly. Tonight he chose you over Sky. Like you knew he would. The guilt was discarded as quickly as the half smoked cigarette when he pulled you closer. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding your flush to him as his mouth crashed against yours harder. You looped your arms over his shoulders, hands fisting into the back of his shirt as your lips parted. He didn’t waste the invitation, tongue pushing into your mouth with a gasp. He tasted like caffeine and tobacco and himself. Your head spun as he kissed you. His teeth pulled at your lower lip, eliciting a whine you hadn’t expected.

“Ah, fuck,” He panted, breaking away to beath. His hands slid down to grab your ass, pressing you harder against him. You could feel how hard he was already, heavy cock pressing against your lower stomach, “You’ll kill me one of these days.”

“No,” You laughed softly, licking his lips playfully, “I’d like to keep you around for a while, Pretty Boy.”

He groaned at the pet name, hips rutting up again just slightly. You moved one hand down his chest, reaching the bottom of the cropped shirt he wore and slipping underneath. You raked your nails over his stomach, delighted at the shudder you could feel in his shoulders. You buried your other hand in the hair at the back of his neck, holding him still as you kissed him again. Part of you hated how perfectly you fit together. How the shape of his nose pressed into your cheek exactly as it should. How his lips slotted against yours like they were made for you. How he was the perfect height to kiss you. How his hands were the perfect size to hold you. It made everything difficult having him so easily.

He wanted to be slow the first time, but he was clearly in a different mood tonight. You could barely breathe with how deep he kissed you. His tongue so wonderfully strong against yours, against your teeth and lips. The noises he made in the back of his throat went straight to the heat between your legs. You wanted to hear more.

You tighten the hand in his hair, fisting the chestnut strands and yanking his head back, rough but not enough to hurt. He gasped, breathing heavy as he let you ruin his hair.

“So good for me,” You purred, clamping your teeth down on the spot below his jaw, tongue smoothing over it a moment after.

“Only for you,” He muttered, voice barely there, “God, only for fucking you.”

“Fuck,” You smiled, licking from the collar of his shirt up to his chin, “God you taste so fucking good. Wanna taste all of you,”

You resisted the urge to suck a love bite into his neck as you pressed yourself against him harder, canting your hips just enough to make him hiss, “Let me taste you, baby?”

“F-fuck,” He shuddered, flinching as your cold fingers brushed against the skin exposed by the cutouts in the side of the jeans. The skin you had been eyeing all night. The cutouts you had already expressed your admiration for.

“Please Vik,” You practically begged as you mouthed at his neck, hands flatting against his hips, fingers under the edge of the denim, “Let me get on my knees for you.”

“God, fuck,” He whimpered, dropping his head to pull you into another kiss, “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” You laughed against his lips, hands moving to the sides of his face. His heavy lidded eyes met yours, pupils blown wide, “I want to. I want you in my throat.”

He couldn’t help the sound that slipped past his lips, desperate and wanting as he dropped his head into your neck, muffling the sound against your hair.

“Ano. Ano, kurvo ano,” He panted, you had been friends with him long enough to not need a translation.

“Good boy,” You said, mouth next to his ear, “Lean back for me.”

You left open mouthed kisses down his throat, palming him through his jeans. When you couldn’t reach any more of his skin from the position you were in, you slid to your knees. The wet grass soaked the knees of your socks. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, enjoying the fucked out look on his face. You hadn’t even touched him yet he was already flushed and trembling in front of you. You loved it.

You pressed a kiss to the skin exposed on his hips, your hand on the other side. You licked at his soft skin, thrilled to find the presence of slight moles hiding there. You bit down hard enough to leave a mark, Viktor’s hips canted forward, apologies spilling past his lips. You ignored him, your hands rubbing over his hips to grip his ass and then rub down his legs. Your palm caught on the ridge of his brace. Hidden completely under his jeans, you had all but forgotten it.

You ran your hand up his leg gently, sitting back slightly to look at him softly, “Are you okay like this? Are you hurting?”

“I am alright, milá,” Voice gentle even as he panted heavily, hand reaching out to cup your face, “I’m perfectly good.”

You couldn’t help but to lean into his touch, humming against his palm, “You’ll tell me if this doesn’t work, yeah?”

“Promise?” You asked leaning past his hand and pressed your cheek to his front. You could feel him twitch against your face. You breathed him in, the heady scent making your thighs tense.

“I promise,” His voice came out strained and breathy.

It was enough to break you. You pulled back enough to unzip his jeans and shimmy them a couple inches down. You pulled him out, cock heavy and leaking in your hands. You hummed to yourself, admiring him. You had forgotten exactly what he looked like, but you were surprised how big and pretty he was. He was more worked up now than last time, entire cock a pretty shade of pink that darkened gradually up to his tip. You looked up, watching him as you dragged your thumb over his tip, spreading precum and getting more to drip as he twitched. He gasped, chin dropping to his chest as he tried to keep himself up right. You used the slick to coat your hand and slide your fist down his shaft, watching as his whole body flinched at the feeling. He was clay in your hands, trusting you to handle him.

You parted your lips, still watching intently as you gave an experimental lick to the tip of his cock. You couldn’t have dreamed of this noise he made, shocked and desperate and shaky as you dipped down and licked a broad strip along the veins on the underside. You used the point of your tongue to tease the base of his head, swirling over the crease there. His hands fisted at his sides, barely able to keep his eyes open as you tasted him. And he tasted heavenly. Sweet and bitter at the same time, and like his lips, very much like him.

You were sure he could have come from just the sight of you holding his head against your flat tongue, catching pearls of cum from his weeping tip. When you closed your lips round him, he was loud. He sucked in a sharp breath, groaning heavy at the feeling of your warm mouth around just a small part of him. His hand flew to his mouth, trying to hold back the sounds.

You pulled off, making him whine as you pouted up at him, “I want to hear you. Please Vik, please let me hear you.”

“Fuck, we’re outside,” He panted, glancing towards the fence that faced the front of the house.

“It’s fine,” You urged, “Please, baby I promise. Everyone is inside, no one’s gonna hear you.”

Before he could respond, you wrapped your lips around him again, this time pushing on to him until he was almost to your back teeth. He cried out, stomach muscles tensing as you hollow your cheeks around him, releasing the tension with a gente pop.

“Oh fuck, milá,” His hands flexing at his sides.

You hummed around him, corners of your mouth turned up in as much of a smile as you could do. The vibration of your throat sent him shaking again. Fingers twitching just next to your head.

“Sensitive are we?” You pulled off and teased, one hand moving steadily up and down, the other cupping his balls, “You can grab my hair, just don’t push on me, okay?”

“Are you sure,” Hesitation hid behind the eagerness, all nerves about hurting you.

“Yes, Pretty Boy,” You breathed, lips ghosting over his cock again, “I trust you.”

Genty he gathered your hair into his fist, holding the strands back from your face. The tension on your scalp grew when you pulled him as far into your throat as you could. You took steady breaths through your nose, unable to help the moans that pushed out of your lungs at the feeling of him twitching just for you. You moved your tongue over him, eyelids fluttering shut at the feeling of his precum dripping down the back of your throat. You steadied yourself against his good leg, a hand wrapped around the back of his thigh as you began to move, your other hand gliding over what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. He did as you asked, hand tangled in your hair, but not controlling your movements.

You studied him. Taking note of how he reacted to each movement, each slight gag around his cock, each flick of your tongue. The best noises came from when you took as much of him as you could and sucked around him, head moving only slightly. He gasped, uttering nonsense and curses and your name as he basked in the feeling. You wanted more and pulled him farther in in search of it, tears welling in your eyes as he reached the complete back of your throat. You steadied yourself, taking a moment to adjust before swallowing around him.

This made him cry out, knees almost buckling and hips rutting up involuntarily. He cursed, eyes wide as he apologized. You waved him off with a hum, swallowing again before you began to bob your head. You let your eyes fall shut, focusing on the weight of him in your throat and the sounds he was making above you. You could feel the tension in his muscles build under your hand on his leg. He was so close. Just a few motions away. You weren’t done, though.

With gasp you pulled off, circling your fingers just under the head of his cock. Forcing him away from the edge. You panted, pulling in more oxygen than through your nose.

“Ah, fuck. Why?” He whimpered, sounding like he could cry.

“Trust me, Vik,” You assured, pressing your cheek to the top of his thigh and looking up through your lashes, “It’s gonna feel so good, just be patient for me, baby.”

“God, you’re so fucking beautful,” He reached down, brushing a thumb under your eye where yur mascara was blurring.

“You’re sweet,” You hummed, pressing your lips to the base of his cock, mouthing at him as your hand stroked over him again, “So good for me.”

You raised your hand, lifting him enough for you to have access to lick over his balls. He groaned at the feeling and you heard a soft thud as he dropped his head back against the wall. You replaced your mouth with your hand, gently squeezing him in time with the thrust of your hand. You licked up from the base to tip, not wasting time in bringing him back between your lips.

Velvet, you realized. His skin felt like velvet under your tongue. You moaned around him, pressing your thighs together as you sank further unto him. You picked up your pace, making obscene sounds as you moved up and down his length. You had wanted to go slow at first, but this pace was for you, too. You couldn’t help it. You chased his release with an eager tongue, anticipating him.

“Ah, I’m close, Lasko,” He gasped, hips twitching in the tiniest of bucks, not letting himself get too carried away. His hand tightened in your hair, trying to pull you off before he came.

You made a noise of protest, pushing him to the back of your throat again and looking up at. Eyes narrowed as you made clear what you wanted.

“Oh fuck,” His voice was thick with a mix of his accent and lust. He let you grab his hand, braced against his stomach as you began to move again, “You are heaven sent.”

His jaw hung open as you continued the pace, slowing down every couple of thrusts to swallow around his tip. He took short strained breaths as you pulled him closer and closer. Pitch of his voice canting up as he moaned, the whimpers that slipped past his lips making your own wetness pool between your legs.

He cried out as he finally came, whole body tense as you slowed your movements. You held him in the perfect place in your mouth, cum painting the back of your throat and mixing with spit on your tongue. You groaned, breathing heavy through your nose as you took everything he had to give. The taste was addictive, you could've stayed here forever on your knees, his slightly bitter cum filling your mouth.

Eventually, Viktor hissed in near pain. The feeling of your warm mouth around his oversensitive cock too much to handle. Gently he tugged on your hair, coaxing you off him.

“Come here,” He held your arm steady as you stood on shaking legs, your knees aching from holding your weight for so long.

“Was that good?” You asked like you didn’t already know the answer, pulling you swollen bottom lip between your teeth.

“There is a special place for you in heaven,” He told you, hands grasping the sides of your face and forehead dropping to yours. You could feel the cool sheen of sweat over his body, it made the short hair curl where you played with it at the base of his neck.

“Hm, so sweet to me,” You cooed, reaching down and tucking him away gently, deciding it probably wasn’t a great idea for him to just hang around with his dick out.

He tilted his chin, catching your lips with his. His tongue pushed into your mouth where he surely tasted himself. He let out a shaky breath against your mouth, lips pulled back but tongue still pressed against yours. He kissed you deep, hands moving down to your waist pulling you flush against him as he practically ate out your mouth.

You let the sounds you were making go, letting him hear how he made you feel. Without warning, he gripped you tight and spun you around, pressing your back to the house. He braced his weight with one arm against the wall behind you. He was still licking into your mouth as the other hand dropped between your bodies. He pushed his hand past the waistband of your shorts, cold fingers making you gasp as they came in contact with your cunt.

“Oh, fuck, Vik,” You keened, jaw dropping as he slid his hand further into your shorts, fingers teasing at your entance before retreating back to your clit.

Careful he pulled his arm off the wall, gently smearing away the ruined makeup beneath your eyes. He dropped his forehead to yours, breathing in every pant you gave, watching you intently as you gasped and rutted your hips into his hand. He moved his arm back to the wall, steading himself for you as he pressed two long fingers in, curling them in a way that made you see white.

“So fucking wet,” He breathed, eyes barley open, “soaked just from sucking my cock, God so fucking dirty.”

You whimpered, one hand holding onto his arm above your shoulders, fingers surely bruising his flesh where you pressed. The other hand fisted in the back of his hair, pulling him close enough to kiss. You tried to muffle yourself with his lips, moaning directly into his mouth, biting down on his lip when you felt yourself getting louder.

“Hm, not fair,” He scolded, realizing what you were doing, “Let me hear you. Only sound I ever need to hear again.”

Oh, how you loved incoherent orgasm induced poetry.

He dragged his fingers in and out of you at a teasing pace, his thumb pressed to your clit. Each tiny motion of his hand brought you closer and closer. His name tumbled from your lips, everything about him clouding your cells.

You almost didn’t hear the slide of the back door.

You gasped pulling away from him with wide eyes, head smacking against the siding as you did so. The hand on the wall cupped the back of your head, holding the sore spot you caused yourself. The other retreated swiftly, the heel of his hand resting against your waist, sure to keep his soaked fingers from ruining your clothes. You blinked at him, trying to calm your breathing enough to hear. Behind your pulse you heard footsteps on the wooden deck, they stopped right before the stairs. You hadn’t realized until now that the air was cold enough to see your breath. His and yours formed a cloud between you, white condensation huffed from your lungs as you waited.

Lest’s voice shouting your name into the dark made your heart sink. You loved her, but right now you could kill her.

Reluctantly, Viktor stepped away from you, dry hand steadying your waist. You grabbed the other, pulling his fingers up to your lips and hastily licking yourself off them. He swallowed hard, then surged forward, kissing you through his hand, tongue running between his fingers and against yours.

He pulled away, wiping his spit covered hand against his jeans as you adjusted your clothes. Your name rang again from the porch, you could hear the creak of the top step. You glanced down at yourself and shrugged. Disheveled for sure, but it’d have to be good enough.

You grabbed Viktor by the chin, thumb brushing over his bottom lip, “Catch you later, Pretty Boy.”

You pressed a quick kiss to his open lips and darted away. Shaking out your hair and continuing to adjust your clothes as you went to Lest. She shouted your name a third time.

“Yeah, I’m coming!” You told her, picking up your pace.

‘If only’, you thought, frowning to yourself.

-----

At some point, you realized you were done. No amount of vodka redbulls or dancing or drinking games were gonna keep you on your feet. The party was still thriving well past the hours when it would normally end. You were coming down from everything and needed to be somewhere that wasn’t a hot sticky crowded house.

You wandered to the front porch. The rain had stopped, but the air was just as cool as earlier. You sank down to sit on the edge of the stairs, the rough concrete catching on the fabric of your shorts. You pulled your knees up and leaned back on your palm, basking in the cool air and watching as the moon slowly came in and out of view behind the clouds. The muffled sound of music and people was relaxing. You liked the feeling of disconnecting, but still being nearby.

You stayed like that for who knows how long, letting goosebumps crawl up your sore thighs and arms. Breathing slowly and occasionally moving out of the way for the few people that came in and out through the front door. You closed your eyes, leaning back and paying no mind when the door opened once again, music growing loud for a second before it was once again muffled.

“You’ll catch your death out here,” Viktor’s accent told you, you laughed softly at the phrasing, “Are you not freezing?”

“Hm, I’m cold, but not freezing,” You told him, not opening your eyes until you felt a jacket being placed over your shoulders, you snorted a laugh, “Thank you.”

“Hm, you should take better care of yourself,” He said, sitting down next to you, using his cane to lower himself slowly, “We have a big project next week, it’ll suck to be down a person,”

“How thoughtful,” You rolled your eyes and sat up next to him, knees closer to your chest.

“Any time, milá,” He muttered what you were beginning to recognize as a pet name in his native language, “Anytime.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. With his jacket over you and him this close, you were dizzy with the smell of him. Obsessed with it.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked, taking your hand from where it rested in your lap. He pressed his thumb into your palm, long fingers moving against yours, brushing against the newly forming calluses on your fingertips, “Why are you out here all alone?”

“Just wanted to be alone,” You told him, closing your eyes and leaning into him further.

“Would you like me to leave?” He asked, sincere and unoffended.

You grabbed his hand, holding it tight as you shook your head against him, “No, please don’t.”

He didn’t need any more convincing than that. He slid slightly closer, the side of his body pressing to yours. He gently pulled his hand from yours, sliding his arm to your back, hand resting at the nape of your neck as he brushed his fingers through the fine hair there. You hummed, pressing closer to him, nearly overwhelmed with how nice it felt to be next to him like this.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked, voice slightly hesitant as he broke the comfortable silence.

“Of course,” You’d like him to tell you everything.

“Sky asked me out yesterday,” He said it quietly but quickly, you tried not to react but you knew he could feel the way you tensed.

“I’m not surprised,” You told him, forcing yourself to sit up and look at his face, “What did you tell her?”

You hoped your face didn’t give away too much. He could go out with Sky if he wanted. You and him were not technically together. Sharing liquor and drunk blowjobs didn’t count as a relationship.

“I…I told her I’d get back to her,” He flinched at his own words, guilt creasing his pretty face, “Which is an absolute dick move, but I panicked.”

“Well, if you like her,” You shrugged like it didn’t matter, “then you should go out with her. There’s no reason not to.”

He frowned, chewing on the inside of his lip, “And if I don’t like her?”

“Then why would you go on a date with her?” If stung. Like it was an option. Of course it was an option, you knew that, you didn’t have any right to be upset with him.

He huffed, “You are making this difficult,”

“Viktor, I can not make decisions for you,” You told him sternly, not upset with him, just frustrated.

“I know, I’m sorry,” He shook his head, scoffing a laugh, “I shouldn’t have said that. Forget I said anything, I’ll handle it.”

You were pretty sure you knew what that meant. You did understand where he was coming from. Getting asked out by someone you weren't interested in was tough, even more so when that person was a friend.

“Good,” You nodded, and leaned back into him, tone turned teasing, “now will you stop trying to ruin the moment, this feels good.”

‘Hm, such a brat,” He joked back, you could feel the tension leach out of him, “Always getting what she wants.”

You scoffed, hitting him lightly on the leg.

“You deserve it, though, don’t you?” His voice dropped, so soft against your ear when he turned his head slightly, nose pressed to your temple, “You’ve done so much for everyone today.”

His hand moved from its place on your back, moving back in front of him to rest on your knee. You took a shaky breath as he pressed a kiss to your temple, the pressure against your pulse dizzying.

“Vik,” You warned, voice barely there as his hand moved up your thigh, stopping at the edge of your socks.

He ran his thumb over the elastic pressing into your thigh, over the small dip it made in your flesh. Slowly he pushed his fingers under the fabric, making more contact with the soft skin of your leg and squeezing gently.

“Hm, you deserve to be taken care of,” He hummed, fingers kneading into your flesh, perfect against your arguable sore muscles, “You do so much for other people.”

You couldn’t help the shuddery breath that slipped past your lips. He pressed another kiss to the side of your face, dropping his head to press his nose against the spot under your ear. You felt his teeth graze across your skin, tongue there only a moment later.

“Let me take care of you,” He practically begged, hand moving out from under your sock and up your thigh. His breath was hot against your skin, you could feel his eyelashes brush against you, “Stay with me tonight, oh god please stay with me tonight.”

The desperation in his voice went directly to your core, you resisted the urge to press your thighs together. You couldn’t believe he was making you feel like this a second time tonight.

“Viktor,” Your voice came out breathier than you had meant it to.

He pulled his face away from your neck, meeting your eyes as his hand traveled even higher up, and dipped lower between your thighs. Only inches away from where he had been for only a few moments earlier tonight. His face was so close to yours, lips still slightly red from when you had kissed him hours ago. His pupils were blown wide, eyes hooded as he stared at you. Stars in his eyes.

“I could make you feel so good,” He purred, “I could make you feel so so good. I could take care of you so well, you deserve it. Let me show you how you made me feel earlier.”

His voice was straining as he spoke. Desperate and needy. You were sure if you reached over you’d find him to be half hard already.

You closed your thighs around his hand, keening for him as you pressed your forehead to his. You were forgetting all the stupid reasons you had been denying him. Any rule of thumb you had established went up in smoke. It didn’t matter. None of it fucking mattered. A yes was right on the tip of your tongue. A plea for him to take you to his bed and never let you leave was a breath away from slipping out.

Before you could let the words fall out of your mouth the font door slammed open. You practically choked as you sucked in a gasp. You and Viktor threw yourselves away from each other, out of the compromising position. You sat wide eyed and red faced with your thighs pressed together, practically a foot of space between you and Viktor.

“You two are un-fucking-believable,” Lest scoffed, take the few steps down the stairs to stand on the sidewalk in front of you. Her eyes were alight with anger, perfect face turned down in a look of disappointment that bordered on disgust.

“Wh-what?” You stuttered, trying to control your breath.

“You heard me,” She snapped, arms crossing over her freckled chest, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Lest!” You scoffed, truly taken off guard by her anger, “What are you talking about.”

“You both are sharing the award for shittiest friends on the planet,” Lest told you, dramatic as always.

“Lest, what-” Viktor tried, shaking off his stunned expression, eyebrows furrowing.

“No,” She held up a finger to him, cutting him off, “You know what I’m talking about Seriously, how could you do this to Sky?”

Oh…that's what this was about.

Lest hissed your name, “You know how she feels, you fucking know. And you.” She turns to Viktor, “What is wrong with you? Dragging her around like this? If you don’t like Sky, fucking tell her. Don’t tell her that you’ll ‘get back to her’ and then go get head from a different girl.”

“Lest!” You snapped, not knowing what else to say, “We didn’t-“

“There are grass stains on your fucking knees,” She seethed your name at the end, then rubbed a crease out of her forehead.

“You,” She snapped, jabbing a finger in your direction, “You need to stop being a jealous, passive aggressive bitch,” And you, attention on Viktor, “need to learn how to be a fucking man.”

Your head was spinning. Lest had been mad at you before. It was in her nature to be protective and aggressive and say what she thought. Never had this level of rage actually been directed straight at you. It made your hands shake, every ounce of guilt and shame you’d ever carried floating to the surface of your skin.

“I’m spending the night with Sky,” Lest told you, jaw set, “because she’s fucking torn up over this, even if she won’t admit it.”

And with that she was leaving. Stalking off and down the street to catch an uber somewhere where she didn’t have to look at you. You stared after her, frozen. Hands shaking as your head swam.

Viktor said your name gently, reaching out for your shoulder. You flinched involuntarily, standing up in one quick motion, his jacket falling from your shoulders.

“I…” Your voice caught in your throat, “I’m gonna go home.”

“Hold on,” Viktor said, pushing himself up off the stairs, steadying himself on the cane and grabbing your wrist before you could get away, “Wait, please, just…let me get you a ride home at least.”

You could tell he wanted you to stay, and you could tell he knew you wouldn’t, “No, it’s fine. I just… I want to walk, it’s not far.”

You knew you were not sober enough to try to drive, you didn’t think your shaking hands would even let you.

“Milá, it’s freezing,” He gaped at you, eyes full of fear and worry, “Please.”

You tried to pull your wrist from his grasp, “Viktor, I’m fine. Please, just let me go.” You could feel hot tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Oh god, you didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not now, not like this.

“At least take my jacket?” He offered, grabbing it from the ground with his other hand and holding it out to you, “Please, you’re barely dressed. Please just put on a jacket.”

You hesitated, but slowly reached out and took it. Watching the ground as you slipped the heavy coat over your shoulders.

“Please let me know when you get home safe,” He said, voice reluctant to let you go, “Please.”

You nodded, cursing the way your voice broke, “Goodnight Viktor.”

You turned and walked away, trying to hide the shaking of your shoulders in the borrowed jacket. You were barely down the street before the first sob finally broke out of your chest. You zipped up the coat, burning your face in the neckline of it and tried and failed to calm yourself down as you walked back to your dorm room.

You were still crying when you finally collapsed into your bed, Viktor’s heavy coat still wrapped around you. You barely remembered to text Viktor. His face and name appear on your screen, reminding you of your promise. You declined the call, instead just texted him a brief ‘home.’ before shutting off your phone and letting yourself fall into a restless sleep.

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arcadia-of-pluto · 2 days ago

Text

Twist of Fate; 28

Pairing(s); LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 5,040

Themes; isekai, slow-burn, eventual smut (probably closer to the end), canon divergence

Notes; This'll probably be the last update for a while! At least, on this fic. I have so many I'm working on right now (and have no one to blame but myself) and I only write when I'm in the right headspace for it so that's why these updates are taking so long – if anyone was wondering!

This one is barely edited since my page gets all funky when my chapters get over a certain word count ;-;

prev || next

—☆— masterlist —☆—

“Sweetie?”

You blink a few times, wincing at the bright contrast of light coming from Meow’s Cafe compared to the dark and dreary interior of the throne room you were just in. Your hands were still placed firmly on the table, ready to get up and go get your order after it was called at the register. Did you even fall asleep this time?

Your brows furrow and you feel your temples throb as a warning of an up-coming migraine. You sit back down with a sigh, shaking your head. “Sylus, can you get our order, please?”

That definitely felt like it would be the last of your dreams. At least, you hoped it was. Or if there were more, you hope you’d at least be able to rest a little bit. You felt as if you hadn’t slept in weeks, so lethargic and weak. Honestly, all you want to do is go home. You don’t want to see anyone, talk to anyone. You just want to crawl under your cool bed covers and sleep for as long as you can.

A cup is suddenly placed in front of you and you take it with a groggy “thank you” aimed at Sylus as you slowly sip on the caffeinated drink. Your eyes drowsily blinking before you have to lightly slap your face to keep yourself awake.

Depression and exhaustion were hitting you like a freight train.

You needed to go home now.

You stand up, drink in hand, and motion for Sylus to follow you. “If I don’t contact you for a few days, I’m probably hibernating, so don’t break down my door.”

A soft chuckle slips from his lips as he lightly shakes his head, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then, you’re back on the motorcycle heading toward the Star-rise Apartment complex.

“Is there any way you can get me to my apartment without anyone seeing me?” You ask, rubbing your eyes after Sylus parked. “I really don’t want to run into…anyone.” As much as you’d love to let Xavier, Zayne, and even Rafayel know you’ve returned…You don’t think you can handle seeing any of them right now.

“Of course. Who do you think you’re talking to, kitten?” The tall white-haired man lifts his hand up and, with a singular finger motion, you both disappear. Then, reappear on your balcony. Reddish black energy swirls around your body before dissipating.

“Are you going to stay with me until I fall asleep?” You tease him with a raised brow after realizing he came up here with you and he has the nerve to chuckle and shoot back, “Who says we’re just sleeping?”

You feel heat creeping up from cheeks and curse under your breath, quickly turning your back to him to open your sliding glass door. He follows you inside as you suddenly hear a loud wail. A heartbreakingly, broken sound as tiny feet thumped against the hardwood floors, running toward you.

“Estelle?” A bit of panic zings through your chest, worried that something might’ve happened to her, but instead, the poor baby runs up to you and leaps at you. Your body stumbles backward as the, rather large, manecoon jumps into your arms, still crying while purring loudly. You feel Sylus’s hand against the small of your back, keeping you from falling to the ground from the cat’s weight.

“Is this…yours, kitten? I can see the resemblance.” Sylus muses, stepping over to look down at the cat before he reaches forward to scratch under her chin. “Cute and a crybaby. Just like you.”

You turn your head to glare at Sylus, hugging Estelle to your chest as you rub your cheek against her soft fur. “Maybe with her around, I can finally get some rest.” “I’m hurt, kitten. Do I mean nothing to you?” Sylus places a hand on his chest with a pained expression on his face and you shake your head with a small laugh, “Alright, alright. You can stay too, but you’d better be gone when I wake up.”

And with that, the three of you get settled in your bed.

The bed was…rather cramped. Granted, it was a big bed. It should be able to fit at least two people, but with a large cat and large man in bed…Well, you get it. With space being so small, you had to rest your head on Sylus’s shoulder with his arm propped under your neck, Estelle situated between you both. You close your eyes and feel Sylus tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Goodnight, sweetie. Hopefully you’ll get all the answers you need and more soon.”

(Ding ding ding, who would’ve guessed it. Another dream sequence ;-; I am so sorry at this point, but these are honestly necessary to the plot. I’m losing my mind at this point. I forget where I left off, what’s going on, what’s been said. Xavier’s the only one with a kiss so far and he’s not even my favourite love interest…I’m falling apart guys.)

This time, your dream feels like a dream.

As you look around in complete darkness, you know this one will be different from the rest. Finally, you’ll be able to actually sleep. You’ll finally feel well rested and -

The room you’re in is gloomy. It smells of worn books and flowers. The floors have a fancy marbled pattern, the walls are adorned with weathered dark-blue wallpaper, bookshelves lining each wall with a large open balcony in front of you. Papers are scattered all over the floor, crumpled balls of parchment and yellow pages strewn about. You hear the sound of someone scribbling on paper behind you, mumbling under their breath, and you slowly turn around.

The first thing you see is a large, ornate desk, also covered in papers and books. Sketches of some kind of machine on some papers while others are filled with words.

Then, you pause, noticing who the person behind the desk is.

It’s…you?

You take a cautious step forward, but she doesn’t react. Too busy writing more notes down. You take note of the crown atop her head, the intricate suit she’s donned, and the words that she’s saying.

“It’s me…” She murmurs, staring down at the papers in front of her with shock. “I’m the perfect sacrifice? It was me this whole time!? Then, why did Xavier even - “

After she was left behind by Xavier and the Backtrackers, Y/n decided to do her own research. With no one here to stop her, she could do anything she wanted and that included going through every single file the royal family has to offer. What she found shattered her whole view on reality.

Within the paperwork she discovered was her name. Her name was on a list. The list for the sacrifices that would be used to fuel Philos’ heart and her name was violently circled as if she were the key to everything. The more she looked into it, the more she found.

She didn’t know how the king discovered she could die and be reborn, but the answer was rather simple.

In her previous life, she knew Xavier and many people knew of her. The people of Philos live for a very long time, so those from her previous life were bound to recognize her. People who knew she died. The king took note of how close Xavier was with this specific knight, Y/n, and when he looked more into her…Many people said they knew her previously, but she had died.

At least, that’s what scholars had written in the notes Y/n was now reading. She wasn’t sure how much of it was true or not, but if it was then that would mean she was the one who gave Xavier that star-shaped charm. She was the one who Xavier loved and would give up Philos for. But she was also the one that Xavier had left behind and never came back for.

As months went by, Y/n knew Xavier went to a different timeline with her in it. She didn’t have to see it to know. She knew that was what Operation Backtracker was about. To go grab a Y/n from a different timeline and use her to power Philos. Or to go live with that Y/n.

She knew how much Xavier disliked Philos, so maybe he gave up on this planet entirely and left to go be with another version of her. Y/n wasn’t bitter about it, maybe a bit heartbroken, but if he was happy, then that’s all that mattered to her. So for the next few years, Y/n searched for a different way to save Philos. To save herself and her people, but to no avail.

No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t find a way that didn’t involve sacrificing herself.

So, instead, she continues Xavier’s research.

She found notes that he had left behind about interdimensional travel that he scrapped to instead research time travel, about how Uluru had ores that could power a portal between dimensions but he couldn’t figure out how to create it.

Today was the day she finally finished her sketch of a portal. She thought of everything she could and wrote it down, making sure to note how the wires would go and where the Uluru ores would go. All she had to do was take it to the engineers and see what they could do but, as she stood up to deliver the papers, a loud noise caught her off guard. The whole castle shakes with a violent tremor, books tumble out from her shelves, paintings fall from the walls. Y/n stumbles and catches herself on her desk before her head whips toward the balcony, spotting smoke billowing in the distance.

Was this Philos’ end?

No.

Her knights come rushing into her room to inform her of the situation.

An unidentified spaceship crash landed on Philosian soil, the first one in over 400-years.

A faint sense of hope ate at Y/n’s heart, wishing that it was Xavier returning to her, but she knew that wouldn’t be the case. Philos has been steadily dying for 15-years now. There’s no way her star would come back to her.

Even so, she still felt anxious as her and her knights made their way toward the smoking craft. Were there even any survivors?

The group approach the ship cautiously before Y/n throws her hand up and stares intensely at the ship. While the ship definitely wasn’t Xavier’s, it definitely had his and Jeremiah’s crafty work all over it. Did Xavier send someone here?

“I’ll approach alone.” Y/n says firmly, even though her Lightseekers do their best to try and dissuade her. She shakes her head and clears her throat, “As you all know, I can protect myself. I’ll take this from here.” But as she took one step closer, the horizontal hatch opens and someone steps out from the ship while coughing and waving a hand in front of their face.

Once the smoke clears, Y/n notices the person is a man. They were rather tall, they had white hair…White, not silver, Y/n, don’t get your hopes up. And when he finally looks up, she notices his eerie red eyes.

The man meets her gaze and his eyes betray him. While his facial expression remains the same, his eyes hold so much emotion ranging from anguish to guilt to surprise.

“Y/n?”

The Queen, who was more caught off guard by how deep his voice was, takes a few minutes before she blinks. How did he know her name? Did Xavier…No, there was another Y/n where Xavier went. That’s the only explanation.

Y/n’s lips press thin and she sighs, waving her hand again, “Clear out. I’ll take him in for questioning. Alone.”

While her knights were clearly concerned and confused, they break away, keeping an eye on the two of them as Y/n aids this man on their trek back to the castle.

Once back in her office, Y/n sits down with the man standing in front of her and she rubs her temples tiredly. “So I assume Xavier sent you?” She bites back the urge to ask how he’s doing. If he’s happy. “It must be important if he didn’t come himself or send Jeremiah.”

“Y/n - The other Y/n died.”

Huh?

Y/n’s brows knit together and she sits up straight in her chair, nails anxiously clacking on her hardwood desk. “She…died?” Well that surely wasn’t good, but even so…what reason did Xavier have to send this man to the future?

“I’m getting ahead of myself.” The man sighs, taking a seat in front of the desk. “The name’s Sylus. I…worked with Y/n, alongside a few other people who really cared about her. Her Aether Core was stolen - well, she gave it away, but nonetheless, she died.”

“Any more details, because, so far, I’m not really understanding why she would’ve given her heart up.” Y/n says, picking up her pen as she taps on her own chest. “I’d assume we both think the same way, so unless this was a really big threat…I doubt we’d go down without a fight.”

Sylus has a far away look in his eyes before he looks away. “Astra’s your God here, right? On Philos?” He tilts his head back as he looks up at the ceiling. “We never figured out why, but he came down from wherever and demanded her Aether Core. He said he would fix it, but then he never gave it back to her. He tricked her. I’m not exactly sure what a God needs an Aether Core for, but he didn’t ask nicely, that’s for sure. He said he’d destroy Linkon and the whole world if she didn’t hand it over.”

Y/n wasn’t exactly sure what Linkon was, but it must’ve been where they were living…but besides that, she couldn’t wrap her head around why Astra would want to destroy the world over an Aether Core. If he wanted one, why didn’t he come get hers? Y/n pauses in her writing and points her pen at him. “There’s more to the story, isn’t there? If Astra wanted an Aether Core, he could’ve came and got mine or got one from any other Y/n in the universe, but he specifically went for her. Explain.”

“I hope you can write fast, swe-” Sylus visibly winces as if it pains him to be unable to use nicknames with her and takes a deep breath. “It’s a long story.”

“Well shorten it then.”

“As you know, Xavier has ties with you twice. There’s this other guy named Zayne, he’s a doctor or whatever. I’m not really sure what’s up with him, but Astra seemed to know him. So we assume he has past ties with you as well. Rafayel talked to us about his experience with you in the past too, and I…” Sylus trails off, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just say, we’ve all had past or future lives with Y/n in them. That’s the key detail here.”

“I think the key detail is the fact that you’ve all never been present alongside her.” Y/n clicks her pen after scribbling a few sentences down. “That life was the first one where all four of you were present, so that must mean something important to Astra. From what you’ve said, he seemed panicked. As if something that shouldn’t happen, was going to.” Then, she pauses. “Wait.”

The woman stands up, her chair rolling back and hitting the wall behind her as she rushes over to her bookshelves, scanning every single spine for a specific book. Then, she finds it.

“The Tragic Tale of Ehko and Astra,” She reads aloud as she steps back over to her chair. “It’s about twin Gods who ruled over the past and the future. This is the last copy of the book, so not many people know of their story, and no one worships Ehko in Philos.” Then, her gaze dances over to her sketch, the completed artwork of her portal.

“You want to save her, right?” She asks, not looking at Sylus and without waiting for an answer, she adds, “Even if she can’t remember you?”

“Do you even need to ask me that?” The man finally cracks a smile. “If you’re looking for an answer, I’ll tell you. Without a doubt, always.”

“That’s all I needed to know.” Y/n nods her head, knowing that if she can pull this off, she would most definitely cease to exist but…That’s alright. Philos is better off not existing if that means Xavier could be happy. She clears her throat and shakes her head to clear her thoughts, “My theory is that Y/n - that we are a reincarnation of Ehko. In text, it’s said that Astra cursed Ehko and scattered the soul of her lover into four shards.The four of you were present in that life with Y/n, so now I can see why Astra was so panicked... However, I don’t see why you all couldn’t just fight him. I’m sure all five of you could take down a God, especially with my resonance Evol.”

“There was an incident.” Sylus sighs, trying his best to think back on the situation. “I wasn’t around for it, but from what Xavier told me, she got badly injured in an explosion and her Aether Core was irreversibly damaged, so while she could still resonate, it wasn’t as strong as it used to be. The biggest problem was, while she could resonate with everyone else just fine, she couldn’t with me. So, I helped her into an illegal Protocore Auction and we got her another core. It fixed the damage, but her Evol was still…weaker.” The man drums his fingers against the table, almost as if it were a nervous tick.

“So we can’t just go back in time to fix this situation, because it’ll happen no matter what we do. Astra has too much control over this universe.” Y/n takes a deep breath and pushes her sketch toward Sylus. “I made a mock-up of an interdimensional portal. I just need it built and we can do some test trials with it. If we grab a version of me that is outside of this dimension, then the laws of it won’t apply to her. At least, that’s the only theory I have so far. But if we do this, she won’t be the same Y/n.”

Sylus shakes his head. “I think Xavier would agree with me when I say this, but she’ll be the same exact woman every time.” He reaches over to gently pat her hand. “Xavier would’ve been the one here instead of me, but with the world currently ending on Earth, he had to stay behind with the others to do damage control and I’m the only other one who knew how to pilot a ship. He told me to pass on a message. He hopes you’re doing well.”

Y/n’s teeth sink into her bottom lip and she raps her knuckles onto the desk in a fit of anger, trying her best to hold back from saying anything too callous. “I don’t think most would do well in solitude, being forced to wear a crown, and yet here I am.”

The duo worked tirelessly for months on end, countless bouts of trial and error before they realized that this portal wouldn’t work on Philos. The planet was siphoning any bit of energy they put into the portal to fuel the planet’s heart. They’d have to move their testing to somewhere else and Y/n had just the place in mind.

Uluru.

Y/n and Sylus leave Philos, putting one of her trusted knights in charge as the de facto Queen, and go straight for the little planet, and Gods, it was as beautiful as Xavier said it was. The sky was painted in a myriad of pinks and purples, stars speckled across as far as the eye could see like tiny fireflies. Flowers blooming in a large open field, tall trees with unnaturally coloured leaves, and the interdimensional portal sat within the field like a direct contrast to the untouched landscape.

The two stayed in Uluru doing test after test, trial after trial, until they could finally peak into this alternative dimension.

A dimension without Evols, without Wanderers. A world completely mundane. And that’s where they saw it. They saw you with a loving grandma, playing around with an older brother.

They watched as you laughed while a girl named Tara teased you, her older brother (who Sylus claimed was Zayne) shook his head before he hit her with her rolled up report card. As your older brother came home with his purple-haired friend and you begged him to help you with your art homework. As you run into Sylus on your college campus and join his boxing class. And finally, Y/n watched with bated breath and wide eyes as Xavier came into view. The way you both teased each other and played around like old friends, how Jeremiah swung his arms over both your shoulders as he joined in on the fun.

Y/n tears her eyes away from the portal, gently tapping a button to shut it off as she looks up at the sky. A miserable feeling swirls in her gut as she wants to curse up at the sky. How dare it look so lovely while she wanted so badly to curl up in a ball and cry. To lose her strong woman facade that she’s been putting up in front of Sylus for all these months.

“Y/n…”

Y/n holds her hand up and shakes her head, she squeezes her eyes shut trying her best to hold back her unshed tears. “It’s almost…comical how all of our answers were in Uluru, you know? In the past…Xavier - “ Her voice suddenly cracks and she pauses for a brief moment before continuing, “He said we should come here and elope.” She throws her hands up with a shaky breath, biting her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Sweet—” Sylus catches himself before he can finish his term of endearment and clears his throat, “Y/n, we don’t have to do this.”

The woman sits down amongst the flowers and pats the grass next to her. “We’ve come this far. It’s only fair to finish what we started. After seeing that…Perhaps I’ll be happy with Xavier, with all of you, in my next life.”

And with that, they hatch up the final piece to their plan.

Y/n would take everything she learnt from Sylus, about all of their past lives and what happened in his current life, and…send out an email to your dimension as a game designer. She corresponds with a company and eventually the game releases. The names and facial features are tweaked just enough, so you don’t catch on, and they’ve got you.

Hook, line, and sinker.

It’s D-Day.

The day when Sylus’s past will be reset to before he met the Y/n of his time. The day of the explosion that changed her life. He’s obviously worried, he knows he’ll remember everything - including his time here on Philos, but he’s still anxious about this Philosian Y/n. He’s grown quite attached to her.

“Sylus, I have a surpr— Huh? Where are you?” Y/n questions as she steps into her office, giving her room a confused once-over before she spots him on the balcony. “There you are.”

Like with every Y/n, she always finds him at the right time.

“Hmm? You said you had a surprise for me, sweetie?” Sylus turns toward her with a raised brow and Y/n just laughs off the term of endearment, she’s grown used to it. She assumes she’ll miss it – if she lives long enough to. “As a celebration for what we’re about to do…I made you something.” Her arms are behind her back, so Sylus can’t exactly see what she has. But he chuckles and outstretched his hand for her, “Let me see.”

Then, he feels a sudden weight in his palm. It’s a box.

He tilts his head to the side, a teasing tone to his voice as he speaks, “You’re not proposing to me, are you?”

“Mmh…Something like that.” She shrugs, tapping her index finger against the metal box. “I wanted her to remember everything. To remember you, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne…me. Think of it as a gift, for you and for her. Just link your Evol with it and once she resonates with you, the seal on it will release.” Y/n almost seems a bit bashful, as if she were confessing her love while giving this gift. “I can see why I fell for you in every life, so…”

Sylus’s Evol tightly wraps around the box and a click can be heard before his reddish black Evol darts out to grab Y/n’s wrist, tugging her toward him as his arms envelope her into a hug. His chin rests on the crown on her head and he nuzzles his face into her hair. “This isn’t goodbye.” He says, firmly, and Y/n nods. It feels like goodbye since she won’t be with them, but it isn’t goodbye at the same time. She’ll always be with him, with them. It’ll be her, but not her and yet, Y/n has come to terms with this. She’ll cease to exist in this life, but she now knows she’ll be happy in the next and in any life that comes after that.

Now, with the memory box in hand, she sends out her first and final messages to you;

‘Will you enter the game?’

Then, darkness.

It’s like you were watching tv and suddenly the power went out.

You had so many thoughts racing through your mind. You…didn’t isekai here? All of the guys existed where you came from? You could feel your heart pounding, the heavy thump of your pulse filling your ears. You could feel the panic sinking in. These weren’t games and they were, in fact, all real?

You were brought here to fight a literal God. How no one asked if you wanted to leave your cozy, normal life. You were just thrust into this world without a care for if you wanted to do so or not. Thrown into a world where your grandma and step brother were dead immediately, when you were previously laughing with them at the dinner table.

What the fuck —

Why the fuck —

You were absolutely losing your damn mind and all you wanted to do was wake up and —

Then, once again, a bright light fills up your vision, washing away all the darkness that was previously there.

“Ah, sorry about that. I really didn’t mean to freak you out. I forgot our personalities aren’t that similar.” You feel a shiver dance down your spine and you immediately straighten your back in fear as you hear the sound of your own voice. You slowly turn to look at the person behind you, moving gradually in terror that you’d meet your own gaze. But what stood behind you was more like a hologram of yourself rather than being actually you.

“I probably should’ve mentioned it, but I left a piece of myself inside the box as well. Think of it as a way to have at least one person, besides Sylus, to remember me.” Though she appears to be rather confident, it seems like the Queenly version of yourself as anxious and scared even. She didn’t want to be forgotten. She didn’t wish to fade away into nothingness as she waited for her next life, a life where she would forget her previous life and be born anew. “I also wanted to apologize. I used you for my own selfish reasons, but you’re here now and you can’t go back. I…did save your previous memories in this box, but I decided against showing you them. I didn’t want to give you too much grief.”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to get mad at her now that she was in front of you. She was just a broken girl. Just as broken as you are. Both grieving over lives you never got to experience. Two halves of the same whole.

“I understand.” You nod your head before you frown, “What’s…going to happen to you now?”

“I uh…I don’t know, actually.” While she laughs, you know she’s terrified. “But you know me, I’ll figure it out!” It takes you a few seconds before you respond, but when you finally do, you ask, “Are you still on Philos?”

The woman pauses, turning her head to look at something before she nods with a pained expression, “Yes. It’s burning down as we speak.”

You jerk your head toward the sky and shoot her a smile, “Go to Uluru. You can make it off Philos in time, right?” “Why would I…You don’t mean?” She leans closer to you with knitted brows, “You can’t be serious.”

“Go to my world.” You cross your arms over your chest. “Those idiots wouldn’t know left from right without me around, so it’s only fair that you take over from here. Go be happy, Y/n. You deserve it.”

“You know telling me that is the same as telling yourself.” It’s a little odd to watch another you smile endearingly at you, but as long as you’re happy, who cares?” “I know. Let's be happy together.”

Even though you know you’ll break down once you wake up, you might as well look strong in front of her since she’s a super smart and strong woman who went from a knight to a queen — and she’s lived for over 200 years. She’s you, but she feels so far from you at the same time.

She leaves you with one last sentence as a form of goodbye with a mischievous look on her face, “Don’t be too shocked when you wake up!”

Huh?

What does she mean by tha —

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey , @tanspostsblog , @shypotatoes013-blog , @sunsethw4 , @m00nchildwrites , @yournextdoorhousewitch , @munchychuusy

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jetii · 2 days ago

Text

Good Graces

Chapter Two

Tags/Warnings: Fives being goofy, good old fashioned brotherly teasing, uh oh there's plot in this fic??

Chapter WC: 7,199

A/N: Tysm for the love on chapter one! I did a major restructuring on my taglist so if you're tagged in something you don't want to be, feel free to fill out the form, and I'll fix it next time.

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Senator Amidala's apartments are located in one of Theed's tallest buildings, on the highest floor available. The building is well-kept and decorated in the style that Naboo prefers, all ornate and gilded and luxurious. They're on the main floor of the apartment now, the Senator having excused herself with General Skywalker in tow for a brief meeting upstairs, leaving Fives, Rex, and the rest of the squad on the main floor.

Jesse and Kix have taken up residence on the couches, and the others are scattered about the room, either seated or pacing, their attention on the windows. Fives leans against the wall near the stairwell, watching as the sun sinks low, bathing the sky in hues of gold, red, and orange.

It's been an uneventful day. The peace talks won’t begin for until tomorrow, and Senator Amidala had spent most of the afternoon engaged in meetings with the Queen and the senior leadership of Naboo’s parliament. General Skywalker had accompanied her. Fives has been at her side all day, with Rex and the others on patrol, and nothing's happened. It's been quiet.

Esmé had barely spared him a glance. She'd seemed content to keep her distance, sticking to the Senator's side, and Fives hadn't wanted to push his luck. So, he'd stayed away. The most he'd gotten was a second of eye contact when the Senator had excused herself to her meeting.

He's still reeling a bit from their earlier interaction. He'd been half-convinced he'd ruined any chance he had with Esmé until she'd opened her mouth and made that little comment. Now that he knows there's a sense of humor beneath all that indifference, he can't wait to see what other things he can coax out of her.

And it's only a matter of time, really. There's not much she can do to avoid him, and the longer they're forced to be together, the harder it will be for her to keep up the act. All he needs is an opening. One slip-up. A crack in her mask. That's all it will take.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to tonight. Maybe he could talk her into having a drink with him, get her to loosen up a little. He may have stumbled over his words like a complete idiot this morning, but he’s been working on his material all afternoon. Fives has a couple of good ones he can pull out, and they should get her laughing. If he can manage that, then it'll be smooth sailing from there.

"I'm bored," Jesse complains loudly, dropping his head onto the back of the couch and letting his limbs go limp. He stretches his legs out and kicks his boots up onto the coffee table.

"What else is new," Fives replies absently, his eyes still on the window. He can just make out a ship in the distance, a tiny black speck in the sky. One of the senators arriving late? A civilian? It's too far away to make out any details. He watches it for a moment longer and then looks away. Probably nothing. "You're always bored."

"Because there's never anything to do," Jesse grumbles.

"That's because we're on guard duty," Kix tells him.

"Guard duty is boring."

"Boring is good,” Tup says. He sits on the other end of the couch, his helmet resting in his lap, a cloth in his hand. "Boring means nothing's going wrong."

"And when nothing’s going wrong, everyone stays alive." Kix shrugs. "I'm not complaining."

Jesse groans dramatically. He lets his head roll to the side and stares at Fives, his brows furrowed. "Please tell me you're not going to spend all week moping because Esmé hates you."

"She doesn't hate me," Fives says, bristling a little. He's not moping. He's...planning. There's a difference. "She's just—"

"Unimpressed," Jesse cuts in.

"Disinterested," Kix offers.

"Indifferent," Tup suggests.

Fives' frown deepens. He looks between them and folds his arms across his chest. "Are you done?"

They're all silent for a moment.

Then Kix speaks up again.

"Icy."

Tup gasps, a delighted smile stretching across his face. "Icy is good."

Jesse points a finger at him and grins. "It is."

"She's not icy," Fives snaps.

They're laughing now, and the rest of the squad has started to join in. Even Rex has cracked a smile, though he seems to be trying to hide it as he looks over his datapad. Fives glares at all of them and turns away, his cheeks hot. He can't help the indignation that wells up inside of him, even though he knows they're just teasing.

"What?" Jesse asks, holding his hands up in surrender. "We’re just saying, if you're gonna spend the week trying to get her to like you, you're going to have a hard time warming her up."

"I hate you," Fives sighs. "All of you. I should've volunteered for the perimeter shift instead."

There's a noise from the stairwell, and Fives' head snaps around. Esmé stands at the top of the stairs, her gaze flicking over the gathered men before landing on him. Her expression is unreadable, her hands folded in front of her.

He straightens immediately, his spine going stiff, his mouth going dry.

Shit. How long has she been there? How much had she heard?

Esmé looks away from him and makes her way down the staircase, her steps measured and sure. The long flowing dress she was wearing before has been replaced with a set of form-fitting civilian clothes, the dark fabric clinging to her waist and legs. The vest she wears is long enough to reach her mid-thighs, but he can clearly see the blaster hanging from the holster on her belt. Her dark hair is pulled back, a few strands falling over her forehead, and her eyes are hard and alert as she sweeps the room, taking in the squad. She doesn't say a word.

The men watch her, all of them falling quiet as she walks into the center of the room, her boots barely making a sound against the polished stone. Her eyes are sharp and clear as she meets each trooper's gaze in turn.

She doesn't seem impressed, her gaze narrowing on the few that aren't in full kit, and her frown deepens as she takes note of Jesse's feet propped up on the coffee table. He quickly puts his feet down and sits up straight. She watches him a moment longer before moving on.

She's not happy. Not that he really expected her to be. If there's one thing Fives knows about Esmé, it's that she's protective of Senator Amidala, almost to the point of paranoia. He supposes he would be too, if he were in her position. Being responsible for someone's life isn't easy, especially when that someone has a habit of attracting trouble.

He can't even count the number of times Senator Amidala's been targeted by enemies both foreign and domestic. She's managed to evade capture nearly every time, with the help of the Jedi, but he can see how it would wear on a person after years of it. No wonder Esmé seems to have developed a stick up her ass. He's pretty sure it's the only thing holding her together.

Esmé stops beside him and folds her hands behind her back.

"Is the perimeter secure?" she asks.

"Yes, ma’am," Rex replies. If he looks uncomfortable under her scrutiny, he doesn't show it, his voice as professional and polite as ever. "My men have done a sweep of the building and surrounding area. No signs of hostiles, and no indication that anyone has been here besides the cleaning crew.”

Her shoulders relax slightly at the reassurance, her expression easing. She doesn't look pleased, per se, but she seems less likely to strangle someone.

Her eyes flick back over to Fives and linger on him for a long moment. He straightens instinctively, his chest puffing out a little. Her brows rise slightly, her lips pursing, and then she's looking away.

"Good," Esmé says, nodding. "There are rooms upstairs if you wish to retire for the evening. They've already been prepared."

The men don't move. They exchange a few glances, and a few of them shift in place, but no one takes her up on the offer.

Esmé's gaze flicks over to Rex. She waits, her eyes searching his, and then tilts her head towards the staircase, her lips pursed. Rex seems to understand. He nods.

“Dinner will be served in three hours,” she continues, as if nothing happened. "The dining hall is through that door. There are bathrooms off the hallway to the left of the stairs. Do not enter the third floor. If you require anything, I or one of the other handmaidens will attend to you.”

Her voice is hard, commanding, and the men are quick to obey. A few of them nod, and the others murmur their agreements. Esmé doesn't waste another breath. She turns on her heel and heads towards the entryway, her boots clicking against the floor. She's halfway across the room when Fives speaks.

"Hey, wait," Fives calls after her.

It's impulsive. A spur-of-the-moment decision, one he regrets the second the words leave his mouth.

Esmé pauses, her entire body tensing, and he can feel his brothers around him freeze. They all stare at him, their mouths agape, eyes wide. He sees Rex out of the corner of his eye, his head shaking furiously, and Jesse has a wide, manic grin stretched across his face.

"Yes?"

"I... Uh..." Fives clears his throat. He can't seem to remember the line he'd practiced in the mirror a hundred times before. Or the other dozen lines he'd planned for if that didn't work. He swallows. "Where are you headed?”

She tilts her head. "Why do you care?"

"I'm... charged with the safety of everyone in this building, ma'am," he says. It's a lie, technically. His job is only to keep the Senator safe, not the others, but it's close enough. He hopes she'll accept it. "It's my job."

She glances at him over her shoulder, her lips pursed. He's expecting her to call him out on his lie, to tell him to shove it, but she doesn't. Instead, she studies him for a moment, her eyes narrowed. Her gaze flickers briefly to his brothers and then back again.

"And?" Esmé asks.

"And," Fives says, lifting his chin, "I don't mean to be rude, ma'am, but if you're going outside, I'm going to have to come with you. Security protocol."

It's a bold move, and he can tell the others think so too. Rex gives him a warning glare, and Kix opens his mouth, likely to say something to shut him up. Fives ignores them. He just holds Esmé's gaze, waiting for an answer.

She turns around fully and stares at him, her jaw working. Her eyes are fixed on his, and for the first time he can see the flecks of color among the hazel. He's so caught up in the details that he nearly misses the moment she decides, her expression going from carefully blank to irritated.

Then she sighs.

He feels his brothers collectively sigh along with her.

"Fine.”

Fives blinks.

"Really?" he asks. He glances over at Rex, who's got a hand covering his face. When Rex notices his stare, he shakes his head, his eyes wide, and Fives looks away.

"I suppose," she says, and he's almost certain there's a trace of amusement in her voice. "But be warned. I'm not one for idle conversation."

"Oh. Well, uh... That's alright.” He's quick to straighten, adjusting his belt and tugging at the collar of his blacks. "Me neither."

Another lie. Fives can talk for days if he wants to, and he knows she probably knows that, too. But as it is, she's agreeing to go outside with him, and he's not about to give her a reason to back out now. So if she wants silence, he can give her silence. Probably.

"If you insist," Esmé says. She inclines her head, beckoning him closer, and his legs move without his input. "Come on. I have places to be."

She gives him a once over, and then turns away, walking towards the entrance. Fives tears his eyes away from the sway of her hips and glances back towards the others. He shrugs helplessly. Rex shakes his head again. Tup gives him a thumbs up.

He can't resist a grin.

This was easier than he'd thought.

She's going to eat her words. By the end of the night, he'll have her laughing and chatting with him like they're old friends. Or, well. He's not expecting miracles. But a friendly conversation wouldn't be so bad, would it? Maybe some banter. A tease. Something. He's not picky.

"Don’t wait up,” he whispers, his hand cupping the side of his mouth. He gives the room a two-fingered salute and turns away, jogging after Esmé.

He can feel his brothers watching him, can practically hear the whispers and jokes they'll be making as soon as he's out of earshot, but he can't bring himself to care. It's not every day he gets a shot at a girl like this. And now that she's decided he's worth her time, he's not about to give up.

Esmé grabs a canvas bag from a hook on the wall and activates the door panel, stepping out into the hallway beyond. He follows her without a word, and she doesn't so much as look at him as the doors slide closed.

They don't speak as she leads him down the hall and into the turbolift, both of them standing as far away from each other as possible. Fives tries not to fidget, his fingers tapping against his thigh, his gaze fixed on the numbers slowly decreasing above the door. She doesn't look at him, and it's all he can do to not look at her.

She's still as pretty as the first time he'd seen her, though she looks a little more human in the dull light of the elevator, less like the goddess he'd been imagining. But that just makes her real, and that, in turn, makes him want her all the more.

He sneaks a glance at her, his eyes trailing down her body. The black pants cling to her legs and hips, the long-sleeve shirt underneath her vest doing the same. Her hair's messy, but it suits her, framing her face and drawing his attention to the curve of her neck. She's beautiful, and it's all he can do not to stare.

Fives tears his gaze away and fixes it on the wall, and his heart jumps to his throat as he sees the reflection of her watching him closely. She looks him up and down, her brow raised, and then looks away, her arms folded over her chest.

He forces himself to look away, his palms going sweaty. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

He'd been expecting the silence. Had thought it might even be nice.

He hadn't counted on being so hyper aware of her.

He'd wanted to impress her. Show her that he's more than just some clone trooper. And he'd thought the best way to do that was by being as casual and confident as possible. Now he's starting to think that was a mistake. She might not mind the silence, but he's going to lose his mind.

He has to say something, though he’s not sure what. He knows what he wants to say, what he's dying to say, but he also knows that it would be a terrible idea. He could ask her questions about herself, but he doubts she would be forthcoming. He could make a joke, or tell her a funny story, but he's not sure she would appreciate it. He could just stay silent, but that's a little too much like giving up, and Fives has never been good at that.

It’s the longest turbo lift ride of his life.

He's still trying to figure out what to say when the doors finally open. The lobby is empty, save for a lone security droid stationed near the main entrance. Esmé nods at it as she steps off the lift, and it waves back, its photoreceptors fixed on her and ignoring Fives completely. She heads towards the exit, her steps sure and confident, and Fives is quick to follow.

The air is cool as they step outside, moving past the troopers on either side of the doorway and into the courtyard beyond. It's a pleasant evening, the sky clear and darkening rapidly, the moon already visible overhead. It's a little colder than usual, a light breeze ruffling his hair, and he takes a deep breath, savoring the fresh air.

As soon as they pass the gate, Esmé turns left and walks briskly towards the city center, not even sparing him a second glance, and he’s forced to jog to catch up with her.

By the time he reaches her side, she's already made her way halfway down the block, and the crowds of people milling about part for her like she's the Queen of Naboo herself. He's half-surprised they don't salute.

"I can defend myself," she announces, her voice firm.

Fives jumps. He turns to face her, surprised, and sees her eyes dart toward him before looking forward again. She doesn't slow down.

"Excuse me?" he asks, baffled.

She sighs.

"I said, I can defend myself," she repeats, enunciating every word as if speaking to a child. Her tone is sharp, impatient, and it's a clear reminder of just how much she resents having him tag along. "I don't need you."

"That's not the—"

"Don't insult my intelligence, please."

Fives bites back a snide remark and swallows hard, his throat bobbing. He can't help but be a bit offended, though. He hadn't even had the chance to finish his sentence. What is it about him that makes her so angry? What is it that he's doing wrong? He hasn't even said anything.

He has to remind himself that this isn't a personal attack. That she's just being cautious and defensive. It's not his fault she's so prickly.

Probably.

It's not a good look for him, regardless. He has to work harder to get her to warm up to him, or else this week is going to be torture.

"I have no doubt that you can, ma'am," he says. He keeps his voice light, careful not to show his irritation. He can play the nice guy. If that's what it takes. "You seem very capable."

"Then why did you follow me?"

"I..."

He stops. He hadn't actually thought about why. Not beyond his desire to spend time with her. But now that she's asking him, he can't figure out what to say.

She’s right; it isn’t his job to look after her. His job is to stay in the apartment and keep an eye on things, not go on strolls around the city center. If General Skywalker had caught him, he would have had his head, and that was putting it lightly.

He has his moments of impulsivity and recklessness, but this isn't the same as jumping out of a moving speeder or challenging a fellow clone to a drinking contest. This is...stupid. There's no excuse, and no real explanation other than the fact that he's drawn to her, and that he just doesn't want to let her go.

But she's still watching him, waiting for an answer, and he can't tell her that. So he shrugs.

"It’s my job, ma’am. And it's not just yourself that you need to worry about," he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop himself. "People are desperate these days, and the city is packed with the peace talks. The last thing you need is a bounty hunter or some lowlife thug recognizing you as Senator Amidala's handmaiden. They'll do anything to get their hands on her, and they'll take anyone hostage to achieve that."

He's not exaggerating, not really. The GAR has a list of bounty hunters, mercenaries, and criminals who have taken an interest in Senator Amidala. Most of them are dead or incarcerated, but the few who remain have a long history of violence. There's a reason they assigned a whole squad to the Senator's security detail on top of the NSFG.

It’s also a very convenient excuse.

Esmé looks unconvinced, her mouth twisting slightly. She seems to know exactly what he's trying to do, and he can't help but feel a bit embarrassed at being caught.

But then, just when he's certain she's going to turn around and walk away, she sighs. Her pace slows until she's walking alongside him instead of two feet ahead. She doesn't look happy about it, but at least she's not storming away anymore. He'll take it.

"Is it that hard to believe?" he asks finally, unable to hold his tongue any longer.

Esmé glances at him out of the corner of her eye, her lips pursed. She takes a breath and looks away.

"No," she says, and then, quietly, "I know the lengths people will go to."

He's not sure what to make of her response, so he decides not to ask. They continue on in silence, this one much less tense than before, the sun sinking lower and lower, the sky shifting to the colors of a bruise. He can hear the sound of music growing louder the closer they get to the center of the city, and then a cacophony of noise.

They enter the market district, a large section of the city devoted to small shops and open stalls, the vendors calling out to passersby and hawking their wares. It's crowded, the streets packed with people, and Esmé weaves between them with practiced ease, leading the way.

He's not really sure what he's meant to do here. He can't exactly keep an eye on her and the crowd at the same time, and so he settles for following after her, keeping his gaze fixed on her figure, his body angled towards her and his hand resting on his blaster.

The noise of the crowd is almost overwhelming, the conversations, the laughter, and the music drowning out everything else, and his focus narrows in on Esmé. He can't lose sight of her, not in a place like this, where a person could disappear within seconds.

Esmé stops, and he almost bumps into her again, but he manages to stop himself in time.

"What is it, ma'am?" he asks, peering over her shoulder, his eyes scanning the crowd for any threats. There are none, at least that he can see, but he keeps his hand on his blaster anyway.

"I'm just browsing," she says with a huff. She gestures to the stall in front of her. "You don't have to hover over me."

"I'm not hovering," he tells her, but when he shifts, his pauldron bumps against her shoulder. He flushes. "Okay, maybe I am. But—"

"I know," she sighs. "I heard you the first time."

"Right."

He watches her mouth twist into a frown, and he bites his tongue. This isn't how he wanted things to go. He should be charming, he should be funny, he should be making her laugh and smile, not making her more annoyed. She's not interested, and it's clear that his attempts are falling flat. His shoulders slump, his chin dipping towards his chest, and he takes a step back.

Maybe this is a lost cause. Maybe it's a mistake.

He's not going to stop trying, not yet, but...

Maybe Jesse was right. Maybe this is a hopeless endeavor.

"If you're going to stay, at least make yourself useful," she says. "Help me carry things."

"Oh," he says, a little startled. He hadn't expected her to actually ask for his help. "I mean, yes, of course."

He reaches out and takes the canvas bag from her. Their fingers brush against each other for the second time today, and it’s just as electric as the first. His heart leaps in his chest, his cheeks warming, and he can't help the smile that comes to his face. But then the moment is gone, and Esmé is pulling her hand away, moving from one stall to the next, leaving him to trail after her like a lost puppy.

The crowd shifts, the music changes, and Esmé stops every once in a while, inspecting the wares laid out in front of her. She's a quiet shopper, never stopping long enough for the vendor to engage her, finding what she needs efficiently and paying quickly. It's methodical. Practiced. And yet, Fives can see her eyes light up with interest whenever she finds something that catches her eye. There's a certain sort of appreciation to the way she runs her fingers over the fabrics, her lips parting slightly, her expression softening. It's the same look she had when she was cleaning his helmet.

She doesn't ask his opinion. He's not even sure if she's noticed that he's still with her, but she doesn't tell him to leave, so he stays, the canvas bag getting heavier and heavier with each new purchase.

Esmé's purchases seem endless, but practical. Meat, vegetables, a comically large loaf of bread, herbs, and even some sweets. She buys enough food for a whole squad, and he can't help but wonder why she would need so much. Is she shopping for the Senator's entourage? It's certainly possible, and yet... he's not sure. Esmé doesn't strike him as the type of person to waste time shopping for someone else.

He watches her reach out and touch a basket full of produce, her fingers tracing the edge of a plump, orange-skinned fruit. Her mouth is twisted into a slight frown, her brow furrowed, and he can see the cogs turning in her head as she stares down at the fruit.

"Look for the ones with the most color," she instructs him, leaning forward and grabbing one from the pile. She holds it up to the light of the lantern beside them and squints. "If you press on them with your thumb, they should be firm, but not hard. If it's too soft, it's gone bad."

Fives doesn't know what to say, so he just nods and mimics her, testing a few fruit for firmness. He doesn't have the slightest clue what he's doing, or how to tell which fruits are good and which aren't. He can tell that the ones he's picked are a little bit soft, and a lot green, and so he puts them back and tries again.

"Do you do this often, ma'am?" he asks. His hands move automatically, his eyes on the fruit and not her. "Coming down here, shopping for yourself."

"Call me Esmé," she mutters as she picks another fruit. He blinks in surprise, and he can’t hide the grin that spreads across his face. That’s progress. "And not since before Padmé was elected, no. We have staff who handle the household needs."

"Right."

He finds a good fruit, and he holds it up to the light, squinting at it. It seems fine, but he's not really sure what he's doing. Esmé plucks it from his hand and inspects it, her eyes narrowed, and she puts it into the bag.

"Why'd you want to come down here, then?" he asks. "Seems like a lot of work."

"Padmé wanted something special for tonight. Something Naboo. I offered to cook," Esmé explains, her voice a little softer. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. "I'm not usually in charge of cooking, but the chef is ill, and there wasn't anyone else I trust to do it right.”

Fives snorts. "Can't be that hard, can it? It's just food."

She shoots him an irritated look that would’ve made him shrink back in the past. But now, after everything, it only makes him smile wider. He's getting under her skin, and she's starting to talk to him. He'll take the small victories.

"Don't underestimate food," she warns him, and she shakes the fruit at him like a weapon, punctuating her words. "Good food is an art. Bad food is a travesty."

"Alright, alright," he concedes, holding his hands up in surrender. A chuckle escapes him, and he has to bite his lip to keep it in. "I get it. You know what you're doing. I won't question you again, Esmé. I swear.”

She huffs, but the corner of her mouth lifts in the beginnings of a smile. She turns away, hiding her face from him, and continues to inspect the fruit. She moves on from the orange ones and starts testing the blue ones.

He can't seem to wipe the grin off his face. It's not perfect. In fact, it's nowhere near the smooth, suave approach he's always imagined, and she's still mostly ignoring him, but it's...something. He can see it now, the little signs that let him know that she's not entirely opposed to him, even if she's a little irritated by his presence. And, well, he can deal with a little irritation if it means getting a smile out of her.

He can work with this.

Fives reaches for one of the blue fruits, and she smacks his hand away.

"Don't pick anymore," she grumbles. "You clearly don't know what you're doing."

"Oh, ouch," he laughs, shaking his hand out. It doesn't hurt, not really, but she hit him hard enough to sting. "You could be a little nicer, you know."

"You could be a little more useful," she retorts, and this time, her lip does curl up, and he knows, without a doubt, that she's teasing him.

"I'm carrying your stuff!"

"Yes, you are," she agrees, her tone mocking. She doesn't look at him, and instead moves down the line, inspecting the wares.

"Hey, now," Fives calls, following her, his steps quick. "I'm carrying your bag and doing my job, and I'm letting you hit me. I deserve some gratitude, don't I?"

“Gratitude,” she scoffs. She looks over her shoulder at him, her brows raised. "How about this: you be a good little trooper and go find some cheese, and I won't hit you again."

Fives gapes at her, his mouth dropping open, his brows rising high on his forehead. The audacity. The absolute gall. He's never met a woman like her, not in his entire life. He's not even sure he's ever heard a woman speak like that.

He should probably be angry, and a part of him is, but it's quickly eclipsed by the sheer delight he feels, the giddy, fluttery sensation that fills his chest. He can't help the breathless laugh that bubbles out of him.

Fives grins, slow and wide, and takes a step closer to her.

"Ma'am," he says as he leans forward to meet her gaze, "it would be my honor."

Esmé stares at him a moment longer, and then, just when he thinks he's done it, she rolls her eyes.

"I thought I told you not to call me ma'am," she mutters, the amusement shining through despite her best efforts to hide it. She gives him a shove with two palms pressed against his pauldron, and he stumbles back a step. “Go. Try not to fall on your face again while you're looking."

"Yes, ma'am," he says cheerfully. Fives ignores the glare she sends him, his smile growing, and he steps out of her reach before she can hit him again. He can't remember the last time he felt this...good. Happy. "I'll be back soon, then."

He heads in the direction she'd pointed and leaves her standing among the vendors. The crowd parts for him as he makes his way through the marketplace, and he can't quite manage to wipe the smile off his face, despite the looks he gets from a few civilians. He's still riding high, his chest warm and tight with anticipation, the fluttery sensation in his gut refusing to go away.

He can't believe it. She's actually talking to him. Even more than that, she's teasing him. Flirting with him, a little, if he's not imagining it. And he's pretty sure he isn't.

He can't wait to tell the others. They're not going to believe it.

The sun is starting to set, and the sky is a deep purple-red, the clouds painted with hues of pink. The music is getting louder, and the street lamps are beginning to flicker on, casting long shadows and warm light over the square. He can smell roasting meat, and his stomach growls. He hasn't eaten anything all day, and the scents around him are almost overwhelming. Maybe Esmé will let him try whatever she's making.

She's nowhere in sight. He can't even see her distinctive bun in the sea of people. He scans the crowd for a few moments before turning back to the shops. She's probably not going to let him try her cooking anyway.

He's not sure how long he spends looking for the cheese. Esmé didn't give him any details on what kind she wants or where he's meant to get it. For all he knows, there could be fifty different kinds of cheese on this planet. He wanders the market for a while, peeking into the stalls and storefronts, hoping to catch a glimpse of some.

He finally manages to locate the cheese stall, and he’s just holding up a block of some kind of sharp, white cheese when Esmé approaches him. She's walking quickly, her head down, and her hands are curled into tight fists.

The smile slips off his face when he notices the grim look on hers. Her hand wraps around his elbow without stopping, and he's forced to abandon his prize as she pulls him into a nearby alleyway and out of sight.

Fives goes without protest, his eyes scanning the crowd. Esmé presses him against the wall, and her hand reaches for her blaster, her finger resting lightly on the trigger. He follows her lead, his own blaster slipping into his palm.

She waits, her gaze locked on the crowd, and he's forced to wait with her, his heart pounding in his chest. He takes in the clear tension in the set of her jaw and the tightness of her shoulders, and a cold dread washes over him.

There's something wrong.

Fives swallows.

They stand in silence for a long moment, the noise of the market washing over them. Esmé is preternaturally still, her breathing slow and steady. She's still holding his arm in a vice grip, and he can't seem to look away from her.

She doesn't look afraid. Her eyes are sharp and focused, her brows pulled low over her eyes, and her lips are pursed in a firm line. He can tell that she's searching the crowd, her gaze flicking from person to person, and he has to wonder how often she does this. How many times has she been chased, or cornered, or ambushed? How often does she put herself in danger for the Senator?

The answer comes to him, and it's not a comforting one.

Fives peers around her and scans the crowd himself. There's nothing immediately threatening, but that does little to reassure him. There are too many civilians, too many places for someone to hide, and a thousand possible threats. The hair on the back of his neck stands up, his fingers twitching on his blaster, and he tenses, preparing for a fight.

Her hand shifts from his elbow to his shoulder. She pushes him back, pressing him into the wall, and leans in close, her breath warm on his neck. His throat bobs as she steps between his legs, her chest almost touching his. She's a warm weight against him, solid and unmoving, and she smells like the flowers in the courtyard.

Fives can feel his heart rate pick up, and it's not just from the impending danger.

She's so close. Too close.

"Bounty hunter,” she murmurs. Her voice is a low rumble in his ear, and her lips brush his jaw as she speaks. He stiffens. "Three meters, black clothes, gray scarf. Been following me for half a block. No sign of an accomplice."

The words are like a bucket of ice water. His mind clears instantly, and his eyes flick up, searching the crowd for the figure matching her description.

There are rules when dealing with bounty hunters. They're dangerous, unpredictable, and most of them have a kill count that could rival a battalion of troopers. There are a few that the GAR actively works with, a handful that are tolerable, but the others are a danger to everyone and everything around them. If one is here, that means they're after the Senator, or the Queen, or both.

Rex had prepared them for this possibility, but Fives can't say he was expecting it to actually happen.

In the crowd, a figure moves, slow and cautious, a head swiveling side-to-side, looking for something. They're wearing a thick black cloak and a hood, a scarf obscuring their face, and it's impossible to tell if they're human or alien. A hand reaches up and adjusts the hood, and then the figure moves on.

The hunter isn't looking for a fight. They're looking for a target.

They're looking for Esmé.

Fives doesn't hesitate. He grabs her arms and turns, covering her body with his as he presses her back against the wall, shielding her from view. She doesn't make a sound, but he can feel her tense against him, her fingers digging into his shoulder.

She's so warm, and the soft curves of her body mold to him easily, her cheek brushing against his, her hair tickling his nose. She's small compared to him, his bulk almost completely hiding her, and her chest rises and falls rapidly against his, her heart pounding under his palm.

"Do you have a weapon?" he whispers.

"Blaster," she murmurs back, her lips moving against his jaw. "And a few other things. But it's too crowded. Don't want to start a panic."

He feels his brows raise. "What kind of other things?"

Her fingers dig into the spot where his shoulder meets his neck, and he winces. "Shut up."

There's a long pause as the bounty hunter makes their way down the street. Fives listens closely to the sound of their footsteps, keeping his head turned towards the marketplace, his hand resting on his blaster. When he can't hear them anymore, he slowly lifts his head and peers over the crowd, searching for the figure. He finds them a few moments later, their hood pulled low, their head angled toward the ground.

He keeps his eyes fixed on them as they continue on their path, and Esmé shifts, her head tilting back to rest against the wall, her chin brushing his cheek. She's a lot calmer than he'd expected. Most civilians would be screaming by now, but not her.

"How did you notice him?"

"His steps," she replies. Her voice is a quiet rumble against his skin, and her breath ghosts across his neck, making him shiver. "They're too measured. Too quiet. Everyone else is in a hurry."

"Clever girl," he says softly.

"Are you always this annoying?"

"No. Usually I'm worse."

She sighs, her hand shifting on his shoulder. He can feel her eyes on him, but he refuses to look. If he does, he's going to lose his train of thought, and they're not safe yet. He needs to keep his head, and she's far too distracting.

Fives clears his throat and focuses on the hunter. He watches them walk the length of the market and then disappear into the crowd, lost from view. He keeps his eyes on the space they'd been, waiting to see if they'll come back.

He counts to ten. Then thirty. And when the hunter doesn't reappear, he finally lets out a breath and relaxes. Esmé moves immediately, shoving him away and ducking out from under his arm, her eyes fixed on the entrance. She's still got her blaster drawn, her finger ready to pull the trigger. He holsters his own weapon and reaches for her, placing his hand on her forearm.

"It's alright," he says quietly. He gives her a gentle nudge and steps forward. "We can go now."

She doesn't seem to hear him. Her focus is fixed on the crowd, her body coiled tight like a spring, and she's not blinking, her eyes narrowed. She's not even breathing, and her knuckles are white around her blaster.

He's seen this look before. Too many times.

She's not a soldier, but he can see the training in her stance, the way her eyes sweep the crowd, her muscles flexing beneath his fingers.

She's not a soldier, but she knows how to handle a blaster, and how to defend herself, and she knows exactly what to do when a bounty hunter is on her tail. She's not afraid, even if she should be. It's almost familiar.

It doesn't make sense. She's a handmaiden. The most she should have to do is serve the Senator a cup of tea or fix her hair. She shouldn't be able to tell a bounty hunter from the crowd. She shouldn't have any reason to draw her blaster. She shouldn't be so used to this.

Something doesn't add up.

Esmé's grip relaxes slightly, and she lowers her weapon, her shoulders slumping. She takes a deep breath and leans back, her head tilted towards him, but she doesn't turn around.

He lets his hand slip from her arm, and he doesn't miss the way she shivers when his fingers graze her wrist. Fives takes a step closer, his chest brushing against her back, and her shoulders rise with another inhale. Her head turns slightly, her ear close enough that he can lean down and whisper, his breath tickling the shell of her ear.

"Hey," he murmurs. "You alright?"

She doesn't answer him.

He sighs. He's not surprised. She's been ignoring him all day. He's not sure why he thought she would be any different now.

Fives takes a step back and puts some space between them, folding his arms over his chest. He waits for her to speak, or to move, or do anything, but she stays where she is, her eyes fixed on the crowd, her mouth pressed into a firm line.

He's not really sure what to say, and so he decides not to say anything at all. If she wants to talk to him, she will. And if not... well, then he'll just have to try again.

After a few more minutes, Esmé finally sighs and holsters her blaster. She turns around and looks at him. Her face is as blank as ever, but there's something in her eyes, a hint of unease that wasn't there before. She nods once.

“We need to get back,” she says quietly, her mouth set in a grim line. "Now."

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @etod @puppetscenario @umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano @burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @notslaybabes @ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @heavenseed76 @bunny7567 @lostqueenofegypt @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @maniacalbooper @burningnerdchild @julli-bee @moonychicky @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @cw80831 @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish @floofyroro @veralii

#fives x oc #arc trooper fives #arc trooper fives x oc #the clone wars #fives x reader #arc trooper fives x reader #roy writes #fives x esmé #oc: esmé #good graces #i love pathetic men!! i love pathetic men!!#the more of a loser i make fives the hotter he is to me #loser but make him competent

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covenofagatha · 2 days ago

Note

Miss covenofagatha dear, I hath returned with another gift of a sneak peek at some parts of a new (chapter) of a fic I’m working on, enjoy! ☺️🩵

——

“Please” you gasp as you feel the coil in the pit of your stomach winding impossibly tighter as Agatha continues fucking her cock into you, lifting her hand to wrap around your throat, not applying pressure but just hold it. “Are you asking for permission to cum?” she hums and you nod frantically “Then ask properly, pet” she says firmly as she squeezes your throat and moves her free hand to rest on your lower abdomen, pressing down. “Fuck! Please may I cum, mommy?” you whimper, consciously focusing on forcing yourself not to climax without permission. Agatha chuckles darkly, adding pressure around your throat and you feel her nails digging into your skin ever so slightly “That’s my good girl. Cum on mommy’s cock, baby” the older woman purrs and you clench your eyes shut tightly as the coil in your stomach snaps and your body writhes beneath her. “Uh uh, eyes open. Look at me while you cum for me, baby” Agatha coaxes and you force your eyes open, your gaze locking with hers as she continues pressing on your abdomen and reaches her thumb down to rub your clit. “Oh fuck! Mommy!” You cry out and she gives you a wolfish grin “There you go, baby. Fuck, you look so pretty when you cum for me. Mommy’s sweet girl” she coos, her praise going straight to your cunt as you clench around her cock, making it harder for her to move, your body convulsing as she continues fucking you through your orgasm.

————

Your body rocked forward with each thrust and moans fell from your lips left, right and centre as the older woman fucked your still sensitive pussy. “F-fuck” you mutter under your breath, resting your forehead against the cushions of the couch before you feel Agatha’s hand slide around your body and she grabs your jaw, lifting your head. “Look at our helpless little slut, baby” you lifted your gaze until it met Rio’s as she squirmed on the riding fuck machine that she was straddling, mewls and moans falling from her mouth uncontrollably. “Aggie, please” Rio whined as you noticed her wrists wriggling against the ropes suspending her arms above her head “Tell her how good it feels, pretty girl” Agatha encourages you as she nibbles your earlobe and you let out a shaky breath. “Oh god. Feels so good, mommy. Filling me up and fucking me so good. F-fuck, I love being so full of your cock, stretching me out so good” you moan as Agatha chuckles lowly in your ear and picks up her pace, fucking into you faster and rougher.

Ohhhh yes this is the good stuff 🥵 cannot wait to read the whole thing

#asks #so hot

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sweetprfct · 2 days ago

Text

Please Please Please

Aaron Taylor-Johnson x Fem!Reader

Summary: An unexpected coffee accident turned your life upside down into a world full of glamour and flashing cameras everywhere you turned. You thought with Aaron by your side, it was going to be easy to navigate, but it turns out life in front of the flashing cameras isn't so effortless after all.

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! I was on a mini vacation, so I couldn't upload the next chapter. Here's chapter four! Enjoy! :)

Wordcount: 4.5K

Disclaimer: 18+

chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five - chapter six - chapter seven - chapter eight - chapter nine - chapter ten - chapter eleven - chapter twelve - epilogue

The nail of your thumb had found its way between your teeth, your right leg slightly bouncing under the table. The voices of your friends sounded distant as you disassociated for a few seconds. It has been a week since the party. It has been a week since you heard from Aaron. It has been a week since you came all over his hand.

The thought of his thick fingers inside of you sent a throbbing ache between your legs. It was almost like you could still feel them. You haven’t told anyone about what happened. When you came back to the party, and Hannah had asked you where you had been, you made up some excuse that you went to get some fresh air. When you came home that night and found Sara sitting on the sofa with Eli, all behaved–unlike you– you didn’t say a word.

You couldn’t tell your friends, even Sara. It felt embarrassing to know that you literally came all over this actor’s hand and never heard from him again. All they knew was that you saw him at the party and had a good conversation and that he had asked for your number.

When Aaron had asked to see you again that night, you didn’t expect to hear from him but there was that sliver of hope that kept resurfacing all week. However, it has been a week since that night, and he hasn’t texted or called. You told yourself that it was a good thing you didn’t get your hopes up.

But how come there was an empty pit in your stomach?

Your friends’ voice reemerged to your attention again. You all were out for a Saturday brunch, but you felt like you weren’t there presently. Asher was talking about football, and you weren’t paying attention to him. Besides the fact that you didn’t know crap about football, you were still pissed at him.

“Are you okay?” Sara nudged your side lightly with her elbow.

You blinked a few times and turned to give her a small smile. “Yes, sorry. I zoned out for a bit. Just tired, I guess.”

You picked up your glass of mimosa to take a sip and leaned back against your chair. You weren’t lying, though. You were also tired. Work had been busy all week. You were starting to feel that extra production that was being added to the team, and you couldn’t sleep all week either.

Your phone buzzed on the table, and you leaned forward to see who it was. A soft gasp escaped from Sara’s lips as if you both were thinking the same thing. The phone was sitting on the table between the two of you, and she happened to catch a glimpse of the screen the moment it vibrated through the table. You turned to her with wide eyes and next thing you know, both of your hands were grabbing the phone, but you were quick enough to take it away.

“What did he say?!” Sara exclaimed excitedly, a big smile plastered on her face.

You clutched your phone on your chest, while the rest of your friends whipped their heads, looking at the two of you like you were crazy. Your heart was racing so fast, you could barely breathe.

“What’s going on?” Ivy asked.

“Nothing!” You immediately answered, giving Sara a look.

Sara’s eyes widened, pointing at you and shaking her head. Her mouth was agape, her eyes darting to you and back to your friends. Ivy, Luca, and Asher looked confused about what was going on. You swallowed the sudden nervous feeling that was washing over you. You were still clutching your phone in your chest because you were too scared to even open the message.

“Open it!” Sara demanded.

“Open what? Who is it?” Luca asked.

“Sara.” You warned, your eyes widening even more.

Sara looked torn between you and the rest of your friends. The three of them were still waiting for the both of you to answer their questions, and you were frozen in your seat. You didn’t want to move at all or better yet, you didn’t want to even look at the message.

“Open it,” Sara whispered.

You looked at your friends and slowly pulled the phone away from your chest. You didn’t even realize it was upside down when you looked at the screen. You turned it around and the screen lit up from your movement. His name was right there on your lock screen. You weren’t hallucinating. You actually saw his name. You unlocked your phone and opened up the message.

Aaron: Hi love, apologies that I haven’t called, but I do keep my promises. It’s just been a very busy week. So much press tour to do. Do you happen to be free tonight? I promise this is not a work event I’m taking you to.

Your chest tightened as your fingers gripped your phone harder, your knuckles turning white. You kept reading the message over and over again until it was glued in your brain, but it wouldn’t. It still didn’t feel real. You snapped into reality when Sara nudged you lightly on your side.

“So?” She raised her brow, waiting for you to tell her.

You stared at her, extending your arm, and handing her the phone. Sara bit her lower lip and took the phone from your hand. There was a brief silence as she read the message before looking up at your friends with a big grin. You shook your head because you could tell she was about to detonate.

“What?” Luca asked impatiently this time.

“Aaron Taylor-Johnson just asked her out.” Sara’s words were slow and careful as if she wanted all of your friends to understand every word that was coming out of her lips.

As if they were all in sync, Ivy and Luca gasped loudly and their eyes widened. Asher leaned forward against the table, his eyes also big and wide and there was a fire burning in his eyes.

“Say yes!” Ivy exclaimed. “Say yes! Say yes!”

“Wait!” Luca waved his hands in front of everyone. “Pause! You!” He pointed his finger at you, your brows shooting up to your forehead. “Explain.”

Luca demanded as your mouth agape, no words coming out of your lips. You shrugged and gripped the glass of mimosa tighter in your hand.

“There’s nothing to explain.” You murmured. “I didn’t think he would actually text me when he asked for my number.”

“Say yes!” Ivy interrupted the conversation, making you jump from your seat.

You could tell Sara was truly enjoying this conversation, while Asher was huffing and puffing in the corner. You weren’t surprised at his reaction but right now, he was the least of all your worries. You looked at Ivy for a moment and then back at Luca.

“Be careful, hun,” Luca warned. “He is an actor after all.”

Luca’s words suddenly made your stomach turn into knots. It made your mind start reeling into different thoughts of what he meant by that. Aaron was an actor, and you never belonged in that world. You didn’t have to assume because you felt it every single time you accompanied Hannah to these events.

What if he was just playing around? What if he was just testing the waters because you weren’t some actress, so it might be easier to just drop you if he realized you weren’t someone worth wasting his time?

You saw your friends’ reactions. Luca was sipping his drink with some concern in his eyes, while Ivy and Sara were still a little bit hyped up by what was going on. Meanwhile Asher— well, Asher was Asher.

“Should I go?” Your eyes turned glassy when you looked at Sara with worried eyes.

As much as you love your best friends, Sara was the only one who truly understood you inside and out. She could always see right through you and could read between the lines. Sara bit her lower lip and took your hand in hers, squeezing it lightly.

“Do you… like him?” She asked.

The excited smile on her face had faltered and this time, her expression had turned pensive. Suddenly, everyone else had disappeared around you. It was like this conversation was just you and her.

“I think so. I don’t know yet.” You murmured, looking down at both of your hands.

“Okay,” Sara whispered, she glanced at your friends before looking back at you. “I think I agree with Luca. Be careful because his life is different from ours but… don’t stop yourself from also giving this a chance.”

You nodded your head and gave her a grateful smile.

“He’s fucking Aaron Taylor-Johnson after all.” She added, teasing you.

You laughed softly and turned to your friends. Ivy still had hope glimmering in her eyes, and Luca was giving you an encouraging smile. Picking up your phone from the table, you replied to Aaron.

“Fucking actors.” You heard Asher mumble under his breath before finishing the rest of his drink.

You: So, where are you taking me?

_______

You stood in front of your long-length mirror and stared at yourself. Your long hair was in waves, you were wearing a short skirt, a knitted sweater and a brown leather jacket. Your eyes shifted towards your closet before you grabbed your tall boots and slipped them on. You were wearing just a simple makeup that highlighted your features. You looked at yourself one more time in the mirror and grabbed your purse.

After all the warnings that your friends had told you during brunch, there was a part of you that was hesitant about this, so you had asked Aaron to just text you the address. You even turned on your location for Sara, so she knew where you were.

Okay, you might be acting a little paranoid because this man literally touched you just a week ago and now, you were acting like he was someone you just met. Technically, you didn’t know him well yet, so it was better safe than sorry.

It was around dusk when you arrived at the Griffith Observatory. You weren’t going to lie, you were a little curious about what he had planned ever since he had texted you the address. Parking your car, you immediately found him leaning against his. He was wearing a forest green suede jacket with a blue shirt underneath and navy blue trousers. His hair was tousled in a nice way, his curls showing. It made you want to rake your fingers through it.

Your eyes couldn't help but wonder at his hands. The hands that touched you.

Fingers that were inside of you.

He had rings on his fingers that he was playing with as he grinned at you when you walked up to him.

“Hi.” You smiled.

“Hi.” Aaron’s eyes studied you.

“So… Griffith, huh?” You looked around the place, taking in the view of Los Angeles.

Aaron looked over his shoulder where the observatory building was standing before looking back at you. He held out his hand and said, “We can go there later, but I have something else planned.”

Curious, you slid your hand into his, feeling the warmth of his skin spread through your body. He walked you out of the parking lot and down the hill. The view of Los Angeles was stunning in front of you, appearing and disappearing between the trees. Aaron squeezed your hand lightly as you both continued down until the Observatory was seen on top of the hill. The crowd was fading away quickly and the moment it was just the two of you, he stopped in front of two big trees.

In the middle, there was an area that he set up with a picnic blanket and a picnic basket. It was almost at the edge of the cliff, and the whole city of Los Angeles was glittering in front of you. Aaron slipped his hand away from yours as you stood there with a small smile on your face. You studied all the things that he set up, and he even had pink peonies sitting on the blanket.

“I didn’t know Aaron Taylor-Johnson is such a romantic.” You said, looking at him.

He set his hand on the small of your back and led you to the picnic blanket. You sat on the blanket and folded your legs beneath you. Aaron sat across from you, a proud smile on his face as he took the charcuterie board and set it between the two of you.

“What did you expect?” He asked, setting the salami, different kinds of cheese and crackers on the board.

You shrugged and said, “I don’t know… Some fancy steak dinner in the most expensive restaurant in LA.”

Aaron laughed softly, shaking his head. He looked into your eyes, asking, “Is that what you wanted instead?”

“No.” You shook your head, smiling and turning to embrace the view that was in front of you. “I guess I’ve been given a different perspective from Hannah and her exes.”

Aaron slid the board closer to you, taking a grape from it and popping it in his mouth. “That sounds boring.”

Aaron took out two wine glasses and a bottle of wine, poured it into the glasses and handed one to you. You murmured a thanks before taking a sip of your drink. From the taste of it, you knew the wine was expensive. It melted in your mouth, and it was really smooth.

Humming approvingly, you smiled and turned towards the view again. It was peaceful, and you loved the feeling of this. The soft breeze blew through your hair, and you could see the life that was going on in the city.

It was peaceful. Relaxing.

“How long are you in LA?” You asked, taking some cheese and crackers from the board.

“As long as I want to, love.” A smirk was tugging on his expression.

You raised your brow, knowing what he meant by that. “I should have asked the question differently. I mean how long are you in LA that your job requires you to?”

“Ah,” He chuckled softly, taking a sip of his drink. “A month. I have a few press events to do for the new movie and I can technically go back to London after.”

“Technically?” You tilted your head at him, wondering what he meant by that.

“Mhmm.” He grinned, his face telling you all the answers you needed to know.

Technically, he could leave in a month, but it seemed like something or someone was stopping him from doing so. You wanted to say that it could be you, but you didn’t want to be hopeful that he was staying in a foreign country for a girl like you.

Aaron pulled out some more containers from the basket and two plates. You watched as he put some pasta on both of the plates and some garlic bread along with some salad. You dug your teeth on your lower lip, holding in your smile.

You were… impressed.

“Wow.” You blew a long breath. “You made all of this?”

Aaron nodded his head, handing you your plate. “Except for the bread.”

“Oh? That’s too bad I was imagining you rolling the dough, your shirt full of flour in your kitchen.” You laughed softly.

“Sorry to ruin your fantasy, darling.” He grinned widely. “Maybe I could make it up one day.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. There he was again with his flirty words. A brief silence surrounded the two of you as you drank your wine and ate your pasta before widening your eyes at how delicious it tasted.

“That’s really good.” You hummed in approval and ate some more.

Aaron’s grin widened before asking, “How long have you been a Chemist?”

You twisted your lips to the side, staring at the dark, starry sky for a moment. It felt like you had been living in the lab of Genome Dynamics forever. The years that you spent there have been long and slow. It has also been rough. It was as if the years had gone by so fast but at the same time, it felt so slow.

“Four years? About five?” You said. “Ever since I graduated from CalTech, I immediately got a position there.”

You let out a long sigh, not wanting to remember the stress that you have been experiencing at work.

“Sometimes I wonder if it was better if I had done academia instead of working in an industry, but finding financial support for your research can be tough also.” You shrugged.

“Do you like it?” Aaron swallowed the pasta he was eating and tilted his head at you.

You stared into his curious blue eyes. “It isn’t too bad, I guess.”

Another brief silence blanketed the two of you, and you saw the way Aaron was looking at you. His eyes were filled with curiosity as a line appeared between his brows. As if he was doubting the answer that you gave him.

Somehow, you were doubting yourself too.

“Is it difficult? You know… being famous, that is.” You asked, hoping to change the subject.

Aaron nodded his head, taking a sip of his wine. “Sometimes… Especially when you have anxiety.”

“I bet.” You studied his expression.

He seemed… honest.

“Do you ever get peace?” You asked.

Slowly, a smile pulled the corner of his lips. “Yeah… like right now.”

A blush crept up on your cheeks as you looked down at your food and didn’t say a word. Aaron chuckled softly, watching you eat your pasta and slowly hid yourself inside of you. You weren’t used to someone flirting and saying these kinds of things to you. In the last relationship you had, he was always manipulating and jealous of everything. He only used kind words to manipulate you.

Obviously, you had learned and had gotten over that, but you couldn’t help but still feel a little weird. It wasn’t something that you were used to, and you wondered if you would ever get used to that.

________

The crowd of people was slowly disappearing by the time you both arrived back at the Observatory. There were a few girls that were staring at Aaron the moment you entered the building. A few of them whispered to each other and secretly took a photo of him. You couldn’t help but feel anxious, knowing this would probably end up on the internet.

What were you thinking?

This was going to spread like wildfire, and you didn’t know if you were ready for that. Aaron turned to you and probably saw the expression on your face because he suddenly slid his hand on the small of your back.

“Hey,” He said, unconsciously blocking the view of the girls who were taking photos. “Are you okay?”

He was so tall, and he took up a lot of space in this part of the entrance. You barely had stepped inside, and people were already staring.

“They’re… They’re taking photos.” You whispered, playing with your fingers nervously.

Aaron looked over his shoulder and smiled at the girls, making them giggle softly before he looked back at you.

“We don’t have to go in here if you aren’t comfortable," Aaron said. “Just say the word, and we’ll get out of here.”

“No, I…” Your voice trailed off. “It’s just… are you okay with this? This is going to be all over the internet. It probably already is.”

Aaron smiled, brushing the back of his hand on your cheek softly. “Is that what you’re afraid of? That I didn’t want people or the internet to see us?”

You nodded as he smiled, sliding his hand down on your arm. It sent a trail of goosebumps down to where his fingers brushed your skin before he intertwined your fingers together.

“Do you trust me?” He asked.

You bit your lip, “Yes.”

He smiled, lifting your hand to his lips and kissed your fingers softly. Your breath hitched from the feel of his lips on your skin. He was going to be the death of you if this didn’t go well. He tugged softly at your hand as he led you towards the middle where everyone was looking down at something. He focused his attention on the bronze ball that was swaying gently, but your eyes were still on him. You could feel your heart beating a million miles per hour.

You squeezed his hand lightly, standing on your tiptoes to get a better look at the ball. You smiled as everyone else and whatever they were doing to get as many photos as they wanted for the internet slowly disappeared from your mind.

“It’s a Foucault Pendulum.” You said, gazing up at Aaron. “It’s a scientific instrument that demonstrates the Earth’s rotation.”

Aaron turned to face you with a surprised but proud look on his face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his expression. You’ve learned all the different sciences in college, this wasn’t new to you.

“You’re always surprising me, love,” Aaron murmured.

“My best friend and roommate, Sara, works at NASA.” You chuckled softly.

“Yeah, but you’re also in STEM,” Aaron replied.

You smiled, shrugging your shoulders casually and slipping your hand away from him. You didn’t know if it was the wine that had started to boost your confidence, but you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder and flutter your lashes at him as you walked down to one of the halls.

“I guess.” You smiled.

It was like all of a sudden, he was magnetic to you. It was like his gravity kept pulling towards you as you continued down the hall and looked around. You smiled and stopped at the display of the moon. It was dark, and there was a model on the ceiling where the model of the moon was slowly rotating. In front of you, the phases of the moon were on the screen.

“Sara always loved the planets and the stars.” You said, looking up at the rotating moon display in the ceiling.

Aaron stood next to you, his eyes looking up at the display also.

“Me, I’ve always loved the moon.” You smiled and dropped your gaze at him.

“Why the moon?”

Your eyes shifted towards the screen where the moon phases were being displayed. “Because the moon’s presence is always constant. Almost a companion everywhere you go. Even if you can’t see it, it’s always there behind the clouds. The Earth’s partner, no matter what, helps it stabilize.”

When your eyes caught Aaron’s blue ones, there was something soft with the way he was looking at you. Even if it was dark inside the moon’s exhibit, you could see it glimmering and somehow, it made you feel like this look was just for you.

“That’s beautiful,” Aaron murmured.

Smiling, you both walked away from the display and continued down the hall. You both stop on each little display they have, reading the facts, and your mind being mind blown about everything. You studied Astronomy back in college, but you always found Space fascinating because they kept discovering something new every time. You walked next to Aaron as he headed towards the door in the back corner. Opening the door, the cool air greeted you as you blew out a breath from the stunning view of Los Angeles.

“Wow.” You exhaled a sharp breath. “I don’t think I could ever get used to this.”

You both walked up towards the telescopes and leaned against the white balcony wall. Aaron was quiet, but you could feel his gaze on you. When you heard a small giggle just a few feet away, your head immediately turned towards it. Two girls were staring at Aaron and taking pictures and suddenly, that anxiety enveloped you all over again.

“What is it?” Aaron asked, taking a step closer to you.

A soft breeze blew through your hair as you slid your hands inside your jacket pockets.

“Why…” You cleared your throat, your eyes shifting towards the girl taking a picture of Aaron from behind him. “Why me?”

Aaron furrowed his brows and looked over his shoulder to where you were looking. The girl smiled at him and immediately walked away with her friend, tucking her phone in her pocket.

Aaron turned back to you as you let out a long breath.

“Why did you ask me out?” You asked.

“Why not?” The look on Aaron’s face seemed like he couldn’t understand you were asking this question at all.

“I’m…” You let out a scoff. “I’m not, you know… anything.”

Aaron sighed and moved closer to you. His hands were still on his sides, but you could tell he was itching to reach for you but he was still trying to be cautious around you. You couldn’t help but find it funny because just about a week ago, his hands were all over you.

“So, you think because you’re not a famous actress it means I might change my mind?” Aaron tilted his head, brow lifted. “C’mon, love. You got to give me more credit than that.”

“I know. I just…” Your voice trailed off before you looked into his ocean-blue eyes. “I don’t know…”

“Do you know how many people in my world left an impression on me after just a day and a couple minutes of conversation?”

You shook your head, making Aaron smile. “Zero.” He brushed the back of his hand against your cheek softly and said, “Until you dropped that coffee all over me and rambled on about your pasta.”

You laughed softly, remembering that clumsy moment of yours. You were so embarrassed that day but somehow, that one little incident made an impression on him. It was weird how you both had different views of what happened.

You sighed heavily and said, “I’m not famous.”

“I don’t care,” Aaron said confidently.

“I hate those after-parties.”

“Me too,” Aaron replied immediately.

“I ramble a lot and I’m stubborn.” You kept throwing him excuses, seeing if he was going to change his mind.

“Good.” Aaron grinned. “I like a challenge.”

You shook your head, grinning widely as you looked down at your feet. You couldn’t believe this man didn’t want to accept any of your excuses. Any of the flaws that you see yourself with.

“What else?” Aaron lifted your chin, so you could look at him.

There was one more.

The ultimate one that has been running in your mind ever since Aaron had asked you out.

“My friends will be so angry at me if I give you a chance and you fuck this up.” You murmured.

Aaron clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Then, I better not fuck this up.”

“No, you better not.” You felt his arm slip around your waist.

You giggled softly as he pressed his body against yours. “Please, please, please.”

You heard a low laugh escape from him as he hummed softly, staring at you for a moment before crashing his lips on yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smiled through the kiss, letting his warmth engulf you.

__________________________________________________________

Taglist:

@acourtofpenandpaper, @metal-redcherries, @n0rdicmaiden, @galadoesart, @dare-writes

#aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson x fem!reader #aaron taylor johnson fanfics #aaron taylor johnson fics #aaron taylor johnson fic #sweetprfct #please please please #chapter 4

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thecloudstan · 8 months ago

Text

The Rest is Shadows

Chapters: 3/10 (for now) Word Count: 11,618 Fandom: Final Fantasy 7 Remake Pairing: Cloud Strife/Rufus Shinra Rating: Explicit

Cloud Strife, under a stage name, has quickly become one of Andrea Rhodea's star performers and escorts at the Honeybee Inn, and whose attention should he snag other than THE Vice President of Shinra Electric Power Company, Rufus Shinra. Remake universe canon divergent au in which Jenova does not exist, the Wutai war is long since won, there is no impending threat from Sephiroth, and Avalanche as we know it is in its infancy. Cloud is 21, Rufus is 30.

Read on ao3

I grew anxious with this and have the urge to share part of what has been completed. No posting schedule for now, but I would say what's posted is about 1/3 of the final vision. Enjoy, and thank you <3

#cloud strife #rufus shinra #ff7 #ff7r #strifra #miss cloud au #honeybee au #wall market au #sex work au #rucloud #rukura #ruclo #my fic #fic: the rest is shadows #I have background ships for this story in the works as well #please look forward to it!#they are not tagged because I want it to be a surprise #but they'll be tagged when their relevant chapters drop

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saintobio · 1 year ago

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blank canvas. (2)

after offering a painful ultimatum to finally be enough for him, things ultimately get worse as he decides between keeping you or losing you as the only resolution.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. strong language, defloration (kinda), explicit smut, undertones of manipulation and gaslighting, toxic relationship, undertones of cheating

notes. 11.2k wc! thanks for the love on bc1, i didn't expect it to gain traction at all but tyty. last part will come soon, but that will be the final chapter to this mini-series.

part 1 | part 3

The ride back home was uncomfortable.

It wasn’t because you had promised to give yourself to him that night, but rather because his uncharacteristic silence was not what you had expected after delivering your ultimatum. You already proposed a wonderful solution to his needs, so why was he acting like you were the one being ridiculous? This was why you hated it whenever Sukuna chose silence over open communication, as it left you a hard time guessing about what was running through his mind. His expression didn’t offer any clues either, because he did pretty well at concealing his emotions behind a facade of indifference.

When you said you would do it with him, you meant it. But what did he think of it?

The sharp wind cut through your skin, the roar of his motorbike deafening your ears as your boyfriend accelerated his vehicle upon entering the tunnel. The vibrant yellow lights offered a cinematic view, tempting you to imagine yourself embracing the wind with open arms, though you knew better than to do so. Instead, you held onto him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning forward as he sped through the empty lane.

It was nearing midnight, and the sparse traffic allowed Sukuna to indulge in one of his habits: riding his bike in the late hours of the night through this particular tunnel and onto the highway. You knew this ritual helped him clear his mind since it offered a rush of danger that sharpened his focus on the road. His choice to take this route tonight also only confirmed to you that he was grappling with internal thoughts. The last time he rode this fast was when your parents made you choose between them and him, slapping it in his face that he was and would never be welcomed in your family.

To be honest, it frightened you. The speed at which he was riding was dangerous for both of you. Moreover, his bike was a YZF-R1, although street-legal, it was still a high-performance sport bike more suited for the track. It required agile and precise handling with its 1000cc engine. Yet, no other vehicle seemed more fitting for Sukuna than this.

Whatever was on his mind, he didn’t care to let you know. You two didn’t really speak throughout the ride while you clung to him like a backpack, praying in your head that you two wouldn’t get into an accident. Thankfully enough, he did safely take you home as you arrived at your shared apartment at exactly midnight.

“Please don’t ride like that again,” you muttered as he helped you out of his motorbike. “You could’ve gotten us killed.”

His fingers then reached to unclasp your helmet, pulling it up to reveal your face. “Well, we’re still alive.”

You looked at his face despite his best effort to avoid yours, standing centimeters apart while he switched off the engine. He didn’t return your gaze as though he was drowned by guilt. Should you speak at this? Or should you let him do it first?

“Baby.” After a minute or so, it was your boyfriend who sighed and finally gave in, pulling you close and resting his forehead against yours. He kept his eyes closed even when he was cupping your cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.”

Yes, you certainly shouldn’t. You didn’t have to do things unwillingly, but that wouldn’t change the fact that this on-going issue was putting a strain on your relationship and this would be your last shot at trying to salvage it. And you couldn’t have him looking for sensual gratification from anyone else other than you, so what other option did you have, really?

“I want to do it.”

“Not if you’re forcing yourself like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who said I’m forcing myself?”

“Your face tells me you are,” replied he, staring at your face in defeat. “So, let’s not—”

“What, and let this issue haunt us over and over?” You smiled bitterly, shaking your head adamantly. “This has to be done. I need to experience it so I’ll finally understand.”

Understand what? His face almost spelled out those words, but he chose not to say anything of the sort and instead leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Alright. I’ll make it memorable.”

— —

Easier said than done, of course. You kept overthinking about whether your performance would be satisfactory to him given that you didn’t have enough experience to learn anything at all, aside from the make out sessions that you did once in a blue moon. Around thirty minutes of your time was spent hyperanalyzing your situation in the shower, while the other half of it was spent doing a little more than your nightly routines. Since Sukuna liked powdery scents, you placed a good effort in applying lavender-scented oil and perfume on every inch of your body. You also shaved any unwanted hair, especially on all the intimate places you knew he would be seeing. And by the time you were done, you stepped out of the bathroom blooming like a fresh flower, wrapped in nothing but a thin towel that hugged your womanly figure.

It didn’t feel right at all. It didn’t feel good knowing that you were preparing yourself like that, when these things should only happen on the first night after your wedding. It didn’t feel great that you were going to lose your virginity to a man who had not even proposed to you. This wasn’t even your honeymoon, but you had to pretend like it was.

Did Sukuna feel the same?

He wasn’t lying in bed when you walked out of the bathroom. Instead, he had just returned from outside—shirtless, wearing his favorite gray sweatpants, and holding a box of condoms and a tube of lube in his hand. It was clear he had made a quick visit to the convenience store nearby and got the essentials for your first night.

Immediately, he eyed your towel-wrapped body with restrained lust, clearing his throat as he walked towards the nightstand. “You look nice.”

Really? Did he really have to make this more awkward than it already was?

“Thank you,” was all you could softly reply. It was funny how he pretended to be busy placing the box and tube above the bedside table instead of lunging at you like a desperate man. But because you wanted to get this over with, you were the one who approached him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist, and touching the firmness of his abs. For someone who had zero experience, you were definitely trying hard enough and that should please him. “You have to help me out here, my love. Guide me.”

When Sukuna turned around, your heart started racing. Of excitement? Maybe. Of anxiety? Perhaps. He made it better though when he finally caved in and looked straight into your eyes, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear before lifting your chin with his hand. “You smell extra nice, too,” he added, leaning close enough that you could feel his warm breath fanning your face.

You were feeling it now. The equal lust. The carnal desire. The feeling of his sweet kisses, which he made true as soon as he crashed his lips onto yours. His kisses usually ranged from tender to rough, but this time, it was an altogether different type of kiss. It was passionate and demonstrative, as if showing you exactly what he had been wanting to do to you the first time you got together. This must be the result of being celibate in over a year. He was clearly a man deprived of sexual pleasure, and you were responsible for it. You actually turned him into a monk.

Now, he wasn’t holding anything back anymore. With his hand on your nape, he deepened the kiss to the point where you could feel his tongue exploring your mouth. You followed whatever he was doing like a good girl, like a very good girl, as he completely devoured your mouth with his. It didn’t take long for him to advance his kisses in other places too, being your jawline his next target, and then your neck as he feathered kisses around the soft flesh, leaving marks that would need a few days to be concealed.

Because his arms were tight around your waist, yours were locked around his neck. Where else should you be putting them? What does the girl usually do in this situation? You tried not to think much of it and listened to your own body while your boyfriend was sucking the skin around your collarbone. At first, your hand traced his toned chest, then it moved southwards to feel his abs, and further down to his…

“Y-You’re hard.” Your eyes widened as you felt his growing erection behind the fabric of his sweatpants. It wasn’t your first time seeing his boner, but it was the first time you touched it with your own hand. It was the first time you had your palm stroking his length, swallowing hard as you realized just how hard and thick he was.

“It wants to be inside you,” he whispered through your mouth, kissing you back again, “so bad, baby.”

Gosh. Your knees felt weak and you two hadn’t even really started yet. How much more when he starts putting that thing of his inside you? You were breathing hard, trying to catch air as your boyfriend continued to lap his tongue with yours, guiding your hand to continue fondling his wood while it grew bigger the more stimulated it got. By letting you touch his hardened crotch together with his own, you realized that you had just unlocked a newfound fetish of yours. “D-Do you… do you think about doing it with me often?”

He bit your lower lip before pulling away, animalistic eyes sending you into an orbit of pleasure. “Do you mean if I touch myself to the thought of you a lot?” he teased, chuckling darkly at the obvious heat on your cheeks. You couldn’t help but feel excited at how vulgar he could be with his words. “I do jack off a lot, angel. And it’s always you in my mind.”

You didn’t even have the time to melt from his words, because before you knew it, he was already peeling the towel off your body to reveal your completely naked figure. Obviously, your first reaction was to get shy—with your heated cheeks, your inability to look him in the eyes, your little efforts in covering your breasts and crotch, but he made sure to pull your hands away while keeping his eyes on you. “…Don’t stare.”

Sukuna, however, didn’t listen. His dark eyes scanned every curve of your body, particularly around your chest area before he sighed and threw his head back. “Fuck,” he cussed under his breath. “You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t believe no other punk has seen you like this.”

Your confidence grew little by little because of his praises. “But isn’t that a good thing?”

“For sure.” He almost laughed at his own words, more so in disbelief, before he reached out to touch your bosom. “No one can touch you like this, either, baby.”

“That’s—”

“Hmm?” Your boyfriend smirked at your reaction. While his other hand went to squeeze your breast, the other traveled to your bum, squeezing the cheek with equal fervor. “Can I have a taste of you, baby?”

He fondled your breasts with both hands now, massaging the rounded mass like they were his property. You had to admit to yourself that the feeling of being touched actually transcended your expectations. Or maybe it was only because of how erotic it was, but you couldn’t deny how turned on you were as his veiny, manly hands cupped your bosom.

And as soon as you nodded and permitted him to ‘taste’ you, he took no time in gently pushing you down the mattress, allowing you to lay at a comfortable position under him and his wanton stare. Taste you? He was more like eating you, when he pinned you against the mattress and sucked the skin on your chest. At first, his tongue rolled along your cleavage, inching closer and closer to your right breast while he had his hand squeezing the left. Your body naturally gravitated towards him as you arched your back so he could have better access to your chest. Not only your chest, but also your crotch as he started grinding his clothed manhood in between your folds.

“Mm…”

Sukuna’s mouth was on your breast now, suckling on your flesh and playing his tongue around your nipple. You couldn’t tell if it was pleasurable or painful because his tongue felt ticklish on your skin, but the suction definitely was an entirely different feeling. Both weren’t bad, anyway. They were just new to you. But even if they were foreign, you were curious and all the more interested, studying every little thing he was doing with your body and trying to make mental notes out of it.

Maybe you should have watched porn. That way, you could have been more aware of the step-by-step process of having sex. Who knew there were steps to follow at all? You didn’t think that foreplay could draw this much delay in your session because all you thought was that he was going to insert his cock straight inside you as soon as he saw you naked.

With all the touching, fondling, and kissing… what were you supposed to do? He was doing all the work here.

“Baby,” you spoke softly, staring at the ceiling, “C-Can I… touch you?”

Instead of pulling away, his mouth latched onto your left boob, giving it the same attention before moving south. “Not yet.”

When he said that, you didn’t expect his hand to land on your crotch. Your heart was thumping at an irregular rhythm as you felt his fingers moving in circles around your bud, playing with your clit before spreading your folds apart. “Nghh—!” you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, eyes widening at the sound of your voice, but your boyfriend shushed you by placing a peck on your lips before spreading your legs into a V.

“You’re so wet,” he said, pointing out the obvious as he positioned himself in between your legs, spreading your labia to reveal your entrance. Something about the situation made you increasingly self-conscious, but his undeniably hungry gaze kept you from covering your most sensitive area. It seemed like he was enjoying the sight of your pussy, especially with how wet and ‘untouched’ it was. “Your pussy’s so pretty, baby,” he mumbled, lowering his face closer to the area, “Can’t wait to put my dick inside it.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue in between your folds. No, you couldn’t even think straight after he started teasing your vagina, alternating between flicking his tongue around your bud to french kissing your entrance. His tongue was so deep in your cavern that you were raising your hips involuntarily, going insane from the pleasure it sent your body. Your hands even gripped the sheets and your back arched into a C as you held back from moaning like a wild animal. At some point, the slurping sounds and the feeling of his mouth kissing your vagina had your legs shaking.

Though, you could ask yourself: what turned you on the most? Was it him actually eating your pussy or just the idea of him doing it?

And just when you thought he was done, he replaced his mouth by inserting a finger inside your cunt, garnering a much louder whimper out of you. “B-Baby!”

“Does it hurt?” he asked, eyes locked with yours as he slowly moved his middle finger in and out. “It’s so tight.”

“It hurts…” You nodded, feeling his finger moving in circles inside your cunt as though he was trying to get a feel of your walls, measuring the tightness and such.

He kissed you for a good minute. “Relax, angel. Don’t clench too much.”

Clench? You didn’t even know you were doing such a thing. “How to…?”

“Just relax.” Sukuna placed a hand on your abdomen, pressing it down while he was inserting yet another finger inside of you. “This’ll help you prepare so it won’t hurt as much later.”

Now, you were goddamn nervous. What did he mean it wouldn’t hurt as much? Because you were overthinking the pain of having him his actual cock inside of you. If you couldn’t even bear having his two fingers inside you, how much more with his clearly thick shaft? It was ridiculous to feel both anxious and yet aroused at the same time. Anxious, because you knew he could rip you open. Aroused, because his fingers were currently doing a great job at hitting your most sensitive spot. Whatever it was that he was reaching, it was certainly sending waves of ecstasy throughout your body.

His fingers continued to move. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Around. When he pulled his digits out, he sucked the juices on them, tasting every drip of your essence from his fingers. “Sweet.”

Were you? You started to get curious at how he tasted, too. Sweet? Salty? Bitter? You seemed to be moving on autopilot when you pulled yourself up and sat in bed on your knees. “Your turn?”

You asked the question as if you knew what you were doing, which was why Sukuna found it adorable and humorous at the same time. He did help you pull down the sweatpants that had been covering his erection for what felt like eternity, only to reveal a monstrous size that sprung out of the garment.

Holy fuck was all you could say.

He stood at the edge of the bed, a devilish smirk displayed on his saintly face as he saw the length of his cock compared to your face. You obviously hadn’t seen many cocks in your lifetime to be able to compare his size, but in your eyes, he was definitely big. He was girthy. He was lengthy. He was veiny. Meaty.

“Wanna suck it for me, baby?” he encouraged, pumping his shaft while looking at you. Fuck. “Open your mouth.”

You did as told, wrapping a hand at the base of his length while placing his tip on your mouth. You pressed your tongue flat on the surface of his tip, rolling your tongue around the head as if it were a lollipop. Was that what you were supposed to do?

“Eyes on me.” His voice deepened an octave. And it was also raspier.

Why did he want you to look up at him? It was already embarrassing.

“I said, eyes on me, angel.” He grabbed your chin and forced you to lock eyes with his darkened ones. Damn. No wonder girls were desperate to see him in his shop every single day. This was probably what they had been daydreaming about. “Suck my cock.”

In your head, you became a slut. In reality, you were still a shy, inexperienced virgin who didn’t know what to do. You relied on his instructions and looked at his expressions to know if you were doing a good job and to see what he liked and didn’t like. He definitely liked it when you sucked the head, liked it even more when you started to let him go deeper in your mouth, and surely liked it a hell lot better when you gagged after his cock hit the back of your throat. But in spite of the string of saliva that left your mouth after gagging from his cock, his arousal only grew harder, this time holding your hair in his fist as he began thrusting his hip forward. You were bobbing your head at a rhythm that satisfied him, feeling the stretch on your scalp as he tightened his grip on your hair.

“Tighten your mouth around it,” he instructed, fucking your mouth senselessly like hitting your throat was driving him nuts. Your eyes were already filling up with tears because of your urge to gag again, but you didn’t think it would be a good idea to stop now while he was just starting to pleasure himself.

This was the first time in your life to give someone a blowjob, and you weren’t sure what to make of that experience. It personally didn’t give you pleasure, but you liked hearing his desperate moans. You liked hearing him curse and get vulgar with his words. You liked seeing him get rough. His taste, on the other hand, was somewhat a different experience. Since you were only sucking his flesh, it was a tad bit salty at first contact but didn’t taste anything much after tongue got used to the skin around his shaft. Perhaps his cum would have a stronger flavor, though it looked like he had no plans in releasing his load into your mouth as he pulled his member out.

“Fuck it,” he grunted, gently pushing you back and spreading your legs wide open again, “I wanna feel your pussy so bad. Can I fuck you raw, babe?”

All those condoms, and he wanted to have you raw?

“But… I don’t wanna get pregnant.”

His face was full of assurance, shaking his head and denying any chance of knocking you up. “You won’t be. I’ll pull out, I just… I have to feel you raw the first time. I have to.”

“Okay…”

You were nervous as hell. You had butterflies in your stomach, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat you couldn’t silence. You had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was here, the reality of it was too overwhelming. Your mind yet again raced with a whirlwind of doubts and insecurities, and every nerve on your body seemed to be on high alert while you watched him getting occupied with rubbing his entire length with lube, ensuring a smooth entrance inside you.

He was nervous too, right? You couldn’t be the only one. You couldn’t be.

You just wanted everything to be perfect. To show him how much you cared. To feel that you were enough. But the thought was paralyzing. Tonight was more than just physical intimacy; it was a step forward in your relationship, a moment of connection you wanted so badly to cherish. This first intimate encounter should be filled with love, respect, and mutual understanding.

But what if after this, he’d come to realize that you weren’t the one? What if he’d get disappointed and tell you that you weren’t worth it? What if he’d leave you for someone else who could pleasure him better? What if, after you had given yourself to him, no one else would ever appreciate you anymore?

You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted to feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the intimacy of your connection. You wanted to explore this uncharted territory with him, to dive headfirst into the unknown and discover what lay on the other side. But were you really ready for this? Did you truly want this? Would it be everything you had imagined, or would you regret losing your virginity to him?

The fear of inadequacy gnawed at your confidence as Sukuna positioned himself back in between you, his tip rubbing at your slit a couple times before he finally sunk it into your entrance.

“Haaa—!”

“Shh. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“N-No, I—!”

It felt like your walls were being stretched so painfully, like your flesh was being torn open in the most agonizing way. This was not the kind of pain you pictured out when he put his member inside. Sukuna even tried to grab hold of your hips to keep you steady, but you were withdrawing your hips back, wanting nothing but for him to remove his cock.

“It hurts… It hurts… please, stop. Please!”

“Baby, I’m trying to be gentle—”

“I SAID STOP!”

Both of your eyes widened at the same time, and that was the only time you two were ever in sync. He was clearly shocked by your outburst, while you yourself were surprised at how you raised your voice at him. Neither of you expected that situation. As a result, he did pull away and completely withdrew himself from you.

Frustration was evident on his visage and he couldn’t even hide it anymore. “Fuck this,” he spat in exasperation, taking a deep breath as he reached to slip his sweatpants back on. “I knew it.”

“No, I…” You swallowed. “It just… You kinda forced it, I wasn’t ready.”

“I forced it, really? I forced you?” His laugh was out of complete disbelief. “I never forced you into anything, angel. I’ve asked you since the beginning if this is really what you want.” He took a pause, a very uncomfortable one, before he went on murmuring, “It was just my tip and you’re overreacting like this. I’m not even halfway in.”

His agitation had finally awakened you to your senses, realizing that you did end up doing what you were scared of doing. You ruined the moment. You were so caught up in your bubble of negative thoughts that you had once again failed to fulfill what you were supposed to do. No wonder he was aggravated, now sitting away from you and wearing his clothes as if telling you that he was done. Done being blue balled by his own girlfriend. Done expecting something he was never really bound to have.

You reached out to touch his arm. “Baby, I’m sorry… I just got scared, but we can still—”

“Still do it?” he continued your sentence by ironically cutting you off, “No, the fuck, I won’t. I’m not in the mood anymore.”

His reaction brought tears to your eyes, because the way he was acting stung your fragile heart. You didn’t mean to ruin anything. More importantly, you didn’t wish for everything to just turn out like this. “I-I’m sorry. Let me try again, please.”

The weakness of your voice seemed to have softened him, becoming calmer and more composed after a few minutes of contemplation, but he still held his ground when he massaged his temple and sighed. “Let’s just not push it, Y/N.” He looked at your eyes, with hurt and rejection reflecting on them. “Even if you say you wanna do it, you think I can’t see it in your face that you’re not really into it? You’re never ready for me and maybe it’s my fault, maybe there’s something about me that you’re so scared of. Maybe it’s because you don’t feel secure with me, maybe you wanna save yourself for someone better, someone who can give you a brighter future—”

“That’s not true!” You shook your head desperately, your eyes blurring from the pool of tears while you clung to his arm. Where was all this coming from? It sounded like he had been harboring those feelings for so long. “That’s not true. What are you even saying?”

“I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m just…” Trying to give a reason why you won’t give it to me. That must be what he had wanted to say. “Look, I don’t wanna pressure you into this bullshit anymore. I don’t wanna make it look like I’m begging for your affection like this. Intimacy should happen normally for couples, and if we can’t have that, then we can’t. That’s it.”

Why did he sound like he was giving up?

You tried to keep your emotions at bay while listening to him battling with his internal thoughts. “I understand I disappointed you tonight, but…”

He was adamant at shaking his head, distancing himself from you by getting up from the bed. “No, you got nothin’ to apologize for. It’s your body and your choice. I’d never force you into anything.”

Then… then…

“I just think it’s not the perfect time,” he continued, shooting you a glance before looking away. Each step he took added another crack on your fragile heart. “From now on, I’m never gonna initiate anything intimate nor will I expect anything from you, aight? I’m over it.”

Alone in your vulnerability, you could feel the cold air hugging your naked body as you watched him walk towards the door, leaving you in the dark both literally and figuratively. “Where a-are you going? Come on… Please.”

He no longer cared to turn around. He no longer bothered to comfort you as he walked away, muttering, “Just gonna go for a ride. Don’t wait on me.”

— —

Nearly three weeks had passed since that night and you would be lying if you said everything was okay.

No, everything was not okay. You could feel the distance growing each day even when you two still did everything together. Your normal routines didn’t feel normal anymore because he was acting too detached ever since he told you that he wouldn’t initiate anything intimate ever again. And to be honest? It hurt. A whole fucking lot. Hearing your partner say that they would never wish to do anything intimate with you was probably the worst way to experience heartbreak. Because he was truthful with it, and he showed it very openly.

Now, he’d lock the door whenever he would take showers. He’d spent most of his time outside riding his bike until midnight. He stopped texting you sweet messages while on tattoo shop duty. He seldomly joined you to eat breakfast and dinner together. His back would face you whenever you two slept in bed. His eyes avoided you even when you walked around in underwear. His hand wouldn’t touch you even when you were centimeters close to him. There were no kisses exchanged either, unless obliged to do so when leaving the house. No hugs. No hair-stroking, hand-holding sweetness ever shared. You were simply cohabiting in your shared apartment like strangers who had barely even said I love you’s.

“Man, that’s rough,” remarked Suguru Getou, your cousin and the barista, as he tidied up the counter behind the elevated bar. Having just served his friend an Americano, he listened intently as you vented about your situation with Sukuna. “I’ll be honest with you, Y/N. It’s not looking good for you.”

You knew that. You just refused to acknowledge it. “I mean, all couples fight.”

Suguru shook his head, however. “You two aren’t even fighting. Dude just gave up and started detaching himself from you. If that’s not a sign already, then I don’t know what is.”

“What sign?” you asked, hiding the obvious worry in your voice. You need not be dense about his words, but you wanted to have some kind of hope to grasp on.

“Sign that he’s falling out of love?” he continued.

And somehow, his white-haired friend thought it would be okay to chime in. “More like a sign that the tool's not interested anymore and is about to dump her.”

Your face felt hot and in the most terrible way. “Sorry, what was your name again?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You hadn’t expected the guy to suddenly chime in, considering he had been quietly typing on his laptop just moments before. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, so don’t go listening to somebody else’s business when you’re not part of the conversation.”

“Jeez,” said the albino guy, grinning at your cousin as if amused by your barrage of a response. “She’s a yapper, too. I thought she was supposed to be this sweet and innocent type, Suguru?”

“Not always.” Suguru chuckled at his friend before turning to you, apologetic eyes now attempting to soothe your nerves. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Satoru just likes to tease people. Don’t mind him.”

You kept a straight face. “Well, then maybe tell your friend to keep his nose out of conversations he’s not invited to.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Satoru gave you a playful salute before extending his hand towards you. “Look, I didn’t mean to overhear, but I actually sympathize with you. If it were me, I’d never do that to you, baby.”

Oh, God. You were so bad at this. Was he flirting with you or was he simply playful like this?

Nevertheless, you rolled your eyes and ignored the hand he offered, essentially brushing off his advances. “I don’t need sympathy. All I’m here for is to talk to my cousin to try and have his advice on the matter,” you emphasized pointedly, making it clear to Satoru that he was the last person you wanted advice from. “I don’t need a stranger listening to my personal life.”

“Doesn’t hurt to receive advice from another guy,” countered Satoru, shrugging. “Right, Suguru? I mean, we’re both guys. We can give you some insight into how men think.”

You felt the urge to bury your face in your hands. It was clearly a mistake going there and putting yourself in that situation, and now having two guys aware of your sex life with your boyfriend. That alone was so wrong on many levels. But could it be helped? Suguru was your closest cousin, the only one who didn’t turn his back on you after you left your parents’ home. He was working at a cafe three blocks away from your flower shop and you happened to be delivering a batch of fresh floral decorations for their cafe. You obviously found it a good opportunity to open up to him about your struggling relationship and hoped he could offer some male perspective on Sukuna’s behavior. You just hadn’t anticipated his friend eavesdropping on the conversation the entire time.

Well, that should have been expected anyway, since only the three of you were in that cafe on a lazy Wednesday afternoon.

“I don’t kiss and tell, by the way.” Satoru was beaming as he gave you that assurance and you couldn’t help but admit that the man had some charm in him. He was attractive, no doubt about it. He was also tall, toned, and seemingly well off based on the way he dressed. He had a casual yet preppy style, something you would normally see from guys who went to private school.

“Do you work?” you asked out of sheer curiosity. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Oh, now she’s interested.” Satoru seemed to have found your sudden interest in him humorous. “I’m finishing my MBA, miss. Thank you for asking.”

“He’s a privileged rich kid with generational wealth and a family business,” Suguru remarked, playfully gesturing a cutting motion across his neck. “Definitely not your type, huh, Y/N?”

“Why, what’s her type?” The white-haired man looked intrigued, pulling his stool closer. He had that stupid grin on his face as though the topic just sparked his curiosity. “What’s her boyfriend like?”

Suguru, who wanted to play along, jokingly hummed in deep thought. “He’s got tattoos, likes to tattoo other people, is a college dropout, rides a big bike, smokes and drinks, listens to heavy metal, was probably a delinquent and a juvie alumni—”

“Excuse you, he’s never been in a juvenile detention center,” you defended your man, feeling like your cousin’s categorization of Sukuna was becoming a little too derogatory and you had to correct him for that, “and he’s a good man. He’s sweet and caring, he’s passionate, and he loves me sincerely.”

“Sincerely, not?” Satoru quipped, earning your glare in return. He immediately raised his hands in surrender. “I'm just joking. If you believe he’s all that, that’s your choice. I don’t judge booktok girls who romanticize typical bad boys.”

You rolled your eyes at his audacity. Each word that left his mouth seemed to stoke the flames of your irritation. “You’re so offensive, I’ll have you know that.”

The white-haired guy smugly took a sip from his coffee. “At least I don’t make girls feel guilty for not having sex with me.”

“Oooh.” Suguru was clearly enjoying the show, unaware that you were one step closer from smacking his friend across the face. “Touché. He kinda has a point, Y/N.”

“Be serious,” you warned.

To which he agreed to. “Okay, I am being serious now,” he said, abandoning his playful stance to lean in on a more solemn posture against the counter, “If you think Sukuna makes you feel guilty for not doing it with him, then shouldn’t that speak for the kind of relationship you two have? He wants something you can’t give. His reaction tells you everything you need to know about him.”

You tried to absorb his words with a better understanding and without any bias. “Isn’t his reaction normal? He’s a man, too. I understand his needs and I made him feel somewhat rejected.”

“It’s all about respect, Y/N,” answered Suguru, “If he’s a decent man, he wouldn’t make you feel that way. No mixed signals, no guilt tripping, no nothing. If you can’t do it, then don’t.”

“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t feel the same if your girlfriend keeps rejecting sex with you?”

Suguru smirked. “I never said I’m a decent man, either. All I’m saying is if what you want isn’t exactly aligned to what he wants, then maybe it’s best you break it off with him because this shit won’t get you anywhere, Y/N. Trust me. He’s gonna dump you before you know it. I mean, it’s one thing to pretend he’s all fine with it, and it’s another to distance himself from you like he’s silently protesting.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Satoru joined in once again. “It’s impossible for a guy like that to be in a relationship for so long and not have any pussy. We think of sex 24/7, some of us are just better at restraining ourselves than others. He’s putting up with it now, but it’s only a matter of time he gets sick and tired of waiting. You do realize he can get any girl he wants, anytime he wants, right?”

Although you were still uncomfortable at Satoru casually chiming in on the conversation, it was true when they said they could give you the exact male perspective you needed to hear. This allowed you to go deeper into Sukuna’s psyche and understand why he was acting that way. You just didn’t know how to save the connection you have with your boyfriend when both your cousin and his friend were describing all the red flags on Sukuna’s behavior.

“I don’t know,” you spoke in a tone of defeat. “I kinda understand where he’s coming from, so I can’t just leave him for it. I love him.”

Satoru looked at your cousin like you couldn’t be saved. “She’s in too deep.”

“Yeah, gaslighted as fuck.” Suguru was shaking his head in disappointment.

The taller man chuckled and brought up a ridiculous offer to lighten the situation up. “Honestly, Y/N. I know we just met and all, but if you ever need someone to teach you how to do good in bed, just hit me up. He’ll never know.”

“Shut up,” you shot back at Satoru, eyes rolling at his remark.

“You’re out here feeling bad for that guy when he could be fucking his clients at the tattoo shop.”

You argued. “No, he’s not—”

“Are you sure he isn’t?”

It wasn’t Suguru nor Satoru who posed that question; it was Yuki Tsukumo, the café’s manager and Suguru's respected senior. She was in a relationship with one of your boyfriend’s stepbrothers, Choso, and was also a fellow biker, which allowed her to cross paths with Sukuna in their community. Despite this connection, she was never particularly close to him. In fact, Yuki didn’t personally get along with Sukuna and she was very vocal about it. She was, however, a regular client of yours and ordered floral arrangements from your shop on a weekly basis.

It had been awhile since you last saw her, and didn’t expect that the first greeting you would give her was a question. “Yuki, what do you mean?”

Great. Now, three people know about your relationship quagmires.

She was placing her helmet at the counter and sitting on a stool before answering you, “I really think you should talk to him about it, Y/N.”

No, no. Why did you suddenly feel a pang of anxiety out of nowhere? Something about the sympathy in Yuki’s eyes felt unsettling, and it sent a wave of fear through you. She definitely knew something. What was Sukuna doing behind your back?

“Can you please just tell me?”

Her gaze studied your face intently, as if deliberating on the right thing to do. “Well... I spotted him riding with a girl the other night. Initially, I thought it might be you, but last night, I saw them together again. I recognized her... because it was his ex. I think he’s been giving her rides home lately.”

Amidst the quiet of the room, your heart felt like it was breaking in two. The sudden revelation sent you into an abyss of pain.

“You might wanna visit his tattoo shop later.” Yuki encouraged me with a comforting smile. “It may be best to confront him about it.”

— —

Sukuna wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. It wasn’t like he was purposely avoiding you, but he just didn’t feel comfortable acting like everything was fine and dandy. Because if he was damn honest, the sexual frustration was fucking with his head. So much so to the point where he started questioning himself if he should still put up with a relationship like this.

First of all, there were pros and cons involved. He had to consider that it was a special connection filled with special memories, too.

If he was talking about the pros, he knew he would have a loving lifetime partner with you. You were beautiful, kind, and pure. You inspired him and motivated him to be better. You were unmaterialistic and happy with the littlest things. You gave his dominant side the urge to be a better man, like he was made to protect and provide for you. You became his muse; a blank canvas that was all for him to paint on. A canvas that no one had ever touched. Or, in your world, a white lily that was associated with chastity and virtue.

But then, there were also cons, and the foremost of it being you were too conservative for your own good. You grew up in a strict environment with uptight parents who wanted to control your life. He could never voice it out, but he really hated that you were square like your parents sometimes. You were too traditional and afraid to explore new experiences, oftentimes policing him for living his life as free as he wanted it to be. The ‘opposites attract’ thing did seem to work in your relationship at first, with your differences being exciting for each other, but as time went by, it became clearer to him that you two were too different to actually be in sync together.

Hence why your relationship became rigid and suffocating, forcing him to take a breather by distancing himself from you for some time. He did this for your benefit, because he had to clear his head before risking losing you for good. He didn’t want to jeopardize a relationship that he knew meant the world to him. Perhaps this was just a phase, a challenging period following the honeymoon phase, where all your differences seemed to become more pronounced.

But to repeatedly make him look forward to sharing intimacy with you, only for you to back out at the very last minute? Man, was that so frustrating.

It didn’t help that it was destiny itself that seemed to be stirring the pot. Because while you two were going through a rough time in your relationship, the irony presented itself outside of Sukuna’s tattoo shop late at night just as he was about to close.

“Ryo?” A tall woman with athletic build, long dark hair, and beautiful doe eyes came into view with a wide smile on her face.

His ex-girlfriend of three years.

Sukuna held the door for her albeit the confusion in his eyes. “Yorozu?”

The only difference he noticed was that she had become a lot sexier, with the curves on her body more womanly than ever. It was obvious that she was active in the gym to achieve such a fit physique. But other than that, her facial features were the same. Her heart eyes still shone bright at the mere sight of him, as if they carried stars and galaxies.

“I think I came too late,” said Yorozu, smiling in disappointment, “I should probably just return tomorrow.”

“No, you’re good.” Sukuna insisted on letting her enter his shop, closing the door as soon as she was inside. “What brought you here?”

She stood confidently in front him, wearing nothing but a blank tank top and some loose white pants. “Funny story ‘cause I actually just moved to this city recently and I just found out you had a shop in this area.”

Oh? That was interesting, indeed. Sukuna wondered how she even found his shop in that case, while he was leading her to the tattoo chair. “Are you here to get a tattoo or?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.” She was sprinkling some charm in her grin. He knew her too well. “I think it’s amazing that I’m gonna get it from you again.”

While Yorozu was talking to him, he couldn’t help but ask: was it wrong for him to be in the same vicinity as his ex? Considering how jealous you could get, this was definitely wrong in your eyes. But as he wasn’t doing anything sketchy, he figured there was nothing wrong about what he was doing. Yorozu was technically a client and he couldn’t deny her his services since she was basically a friend of his, too. So, was he breaking any code here?

“Well, only if you have time now, of course,” she added out of consideration, “It’s kinda late so I can always come back.”

Sukuna shook his head and headed to get his book of tattoo art samples. “It’s fine. I got clients lined up all day tomorrow, so,” he said, placing the book on her lap, “You wanna check that or do you have a design in mind already?”

Yorozu’s eyes fell on the tattoos marking Sukuna’s body, her gaze landing on every familiar inch as though she had seen them all the time before. It was true. She had seen more of him, actually. She had done more with his body, too. “I kinda wanna get a sleeve, but I want you to choose the design for me.”

A tattoo sleeve? Damn. It was something he would never in a million years see from you, but for Yorozu, it was totally normal. She was as obsessed with ink as he was. And although she’s had a couple of tattoos in her body already, which were done by him, it would be her first time to get a full sleeve.

“I get to choose, really?” Sukuna chuckled lightly. If he were to think of Yorozu’s traits, she was definitely a classic red rose. A seductress, alluring woman was how he saw her and the said flower would be a true-to-life representation of her personality. She was passionate when it came to loving someone, and was completely devoted to him back when they were together. The only reason they broke up was because they were too similar, as if she was his counterpart, and he saw fit to leave a relationship where they both constantly battled for dominance. Yorozu could get too aggressive on loving someone and he didn’t particularly like that. He made her understand why they weren’t working as a couple, and it took her some time, but she eventually accepted his decision. Now, you could say, they were somehow on good terms. “Alright, I’ll do your sleeve, but I’ll keep the design as a surprise.”

Her eyes sparkled in excitement at the thought. “I’d love that!”

“Since you want a sleeve, we’re gonna do some stencil application today.” Sukuna didn’t waste any more time in getting ready with his equipment, biting on the glove while wearing the other on his hand. “It’ll take fifteen to twenty hours to complete a sleeve, and each session could last two to six hours depending on your pain tolerance. My schedule’s actually full all day until next week, but you can come around the same time every night so I can finish yours.”

“Yeah, I’m absolutely fine with that,” she enthused. For some reason, Yorozu was happy with the idea. The idea of coming to visit Sukuna every night in his shop. The idea that they get to be alone. The idea that they would be able to reconnect just like old times. Those were the things that Sukuna assumed was going through her head.

And as he did start with his ‘client’, it was probably best to admit that the sexual tension was high. The room felt stuffy as the both of them remained there until midnight, with her sitting on the tattoo chair, and him doing her tattoo to her left. His eyes were intently focused on the intricate patterns he was doing on her arm, but also couldn’t avoid seeing the contours of her breasts since she was wearing such a thin tank top. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them before. He’d seen every part of her body from her neck down to her toes. He’d put her in every position from missionary to doggy. Goddamn, he could even remember how warm she felt around his cock. Didn’t she like it when he came inside her? Or when he made her swallow every drop of his seed?

Sukuna cleared his throat, shaking his vulgar thoughts away as he continued with Yorozu’s arm. He may not be cheating, but thinking back on those intimate experiences with someone else other than his girlfriend was definitely not morally right either. But what sexual experience could he reminisce about with you? That ridiculously embarrassing night you two had shouldn’t even be counted since he was trying so hard to forget about it.

He cleared his throat. Again. For the third time. “What, uh, what’ve you been up to?”

Yorozu, who had no clue about his thoughts, turned her face to look at him happily. “Not much, actually. The bar I worked at closed down, but I got myself a new job in this club as a full time hostess and part-time promoter. You should come by. Drinks on me.”

By not exactly accepting or refusing, Sukuna decided to just smile it off. “That’s why you moved to this city?”

“Yeah, I mean… obviously, the rent here is higher, but it’s closer to my job. I get paid decently, too.”

“That’s nice.” He was just trying to make small talk at this point. “Do you know your way ‘round here? How are you gonna get home?”

She considered her options. “Probably a bus or something?”

Sukuna paused, contemplating the situation. “There's no bus here at midnight,” he remarked, concerned for the girl who would have to navigate her way home alone at such a late hour. She was new to the area and clearly still adjusting to the commuter lifestyle. Unlike her, he had a vehicle that could safely transport her home. There would be no harm in offering, right? “Look, I have a bike and I usually take midnight rides, anyway. I can drop you off on my way home.”

“Really?” Her voice echoed excitement in them. “I’d appreciate it, Ryo. Thanks so much.”

Life was ironic, truly. He didn’t see this situation coming because he never expected that he would even come across Yorozu ever again. They didn’t have any contact prior, but he still saw her on social media whenever he (on very rare occasions) decided to check his accounts. He never had her blocked, either, which was why you knew about Yorozu after snooping through his phone and reading through some of his old messages with her. Sukuna used to tell you not to worry about her, and that she was just his ex, and that she had nothing on you—which were all true, of course, but it was funny to him now that the woman his girlfriend was most threatened by was back in his life.

And she was riding at the backseat of his motorbike, her arms latching at nothing else but around his torso. She was seated at the seat reserved for you, wearing the helmet that was bought for you, and holding onto a man that was rightfully yours. It all didn’t feel right.

But because Yorozu delighted in his habit of speeding on the highway, he had somehow forgotten about the guilt that was forming in his heart.

“You still have your ex’s Instagram?” Your questioning eyes met his defensive ones as he joined you in the living room, finding his space on the couch next to you. “I read your dms. Why haven’t you blocked her?”

Sukuna’s breath remained steady. “Only toxic people do that shit.”

“But I’m not comfortable with it!” you nagged, letting him snatch his phone from your grasp.

“Do you see me talking to her still?” he asked, trying to be as patient as he could be, “Baby, I don’t even talk to her. I don’t think she’s active there, either.”

You crossed your arms. “Then, block her?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being fair. You shouldn’t be keeping tabs with an ex.”

“What are you—” Sukuna decided to cut his own sentence after realizing that the argument was plain stupid. “You know what, I’ll just delete my insta.”

“How many times do you two do it?” you asked out of nowhere, sitting at the waiting area while he was closing his shop. “Your ex. How often do you have sex with her?”

What kind of trap were you setting now? If he told you an honest answer, you would get mad. If he lied or even sugar coated it, you would also get mad.

“Does it matter? Why do you keep asking questions about her and then get upset with me?” Sukuna’s frustration resonated in his sigh as he tidied the space where he tattooed his client a few minutes ago. “She’s an ex for a reason, so get over it.”

He was starting to get annoyed by your never-ending questions about his past experiences, but he knew you were simply coming from a place of no experience. You probably wanted to know what he liked in bed, what pleased him the most, what kept him from wanting more. Was that too much? No. Were you overdoing this entire thing? A little bit.

“Why are you defensive?” you asked softly, still sitting on the couch as you watched him avoid your eyes. “You make me feel so insecure every time.”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he turned around. “I don’t know, baby. If you’re feeling insecure, then do something about it.”

“Thanks so much for the ride, Ryo.”

Yorozu stood by her door, returning the helmet back to him while she kept her eyes locked on his. Her gaze was inviting, tempting him to give in and submit to his carnal desires. Any man would read her intentions the same way; Yorozu stared at him like that because she wanted to invite him to her place. She wanted him to spend the night and do unforgivable things. To remember the passionate exchange they once shared.

But Sukuna wasn’t like that. No, he wasn’t a cheater. “I, uh, gotta get going.”

“Oh…” Disappointment clouded Yorozu’s face. “Okay, then.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“...Alright.”

“Okay.”

“Wait!” Yorozu pulled his arm just as he was heading back to his motorbike. The sudden closeness in their proximity made his heart race fast. He knew what was coming. “I missed you, Ryo.”

He knew what she was about to do next.

And holy fuck did he guess right, as he was taken aback when Yorozu suddenly leaned in to press her lips onto his. Her soft, cherry lips moved desperately to taste his sweet kisses.

But he didn’t return it. Instead, he immediately pushed her away. “Yorozu,” he spoke softly, “I have a girlfriend.”

“You do?” She didn’t need to hide it. He could see the heartbreak on her face.

“Yeah,” Sukuna confirmed, maintaining a more appropriate distance now. “We’ve been together for some time, and I live with her.”

Yorozu tried to maintain her facade of indifference, making it appear as though she was unfazed by his revelation. “That’s... That’s cool,” she said, “I’m sorry for, uh, the kiss.”

Sukuna nodded, “It’s fine. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“You’re alright,” she reassured him, “It's totally my fault. I hope she won’t be upset with you or something.”

Sukuna had no plans to tell you, knowing well the additional turmoil it would bring to your already strained relationship. However, he realized the importance of clarity in his intentions and the need to set boundaries. “We’re just friends. We’ll keep things civil. I’ll finish your tattoo in a couple more sessions, and then we’re done. Sounds fair?”

Yorozu nodded her head with a reluctant smile. “Fair enough.”

— —

5 more days. Her sleeve required five more sessions, and days went by too fast for him to count. He had busied himself with his clients, while you had busied yourself with yours. He couldn’t even spend time with you because his shop took a chunk of his time from him, and even at home, things had become too awkward ever since your unspoken night.

So, in some ways, Yorozu became his routine. She visited his shop for the past four nights and he had taken her home afterwards. She was in absolute love with her rose sleeve and they weren’t even complete yet. He still owed her one last session and told himself that it should also be the last time she should be around him. It wasn’t right and he didn’t want to create another source of argument with you.

And in truth, he certainly felt a little guilty for spending more time with his ex than his own girlfriend. But did he purposely do it? No, it was fate that brought her to his door about a week ago.

In spite of his stubbornness to admit his wrongdoing, he still ended up stopping by the flower market to get you a nice bouquet of white lilies. He knew you could make a prettier bouquet than that, but he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to surprise you with flowers that didn’t exactly come from you. Besides, he had some making up to do.

Later that night, when he returned to your shared home, he found you sitting at the couch seemingly waiting for him to come home. The lights were dimmed and the television was turned off. For some reason, you were wearing outside clothes and had a somber expression on your face, too. That alone caused the loud thumping of his heart.

“Hey,” he greeted, nonetheless, sitting next to you on the couch and kissing your cheek. “Everything okay, baby?”

Your eyes carried sadness in them as you looked at him and searched for answers you couldn’t find. “Where were you?”

Sukuna handed the bouquet over. “Got you flowers.”

You didn’t accept them. Instead, every second seemed to torture you. “Where were you before that?”

“In the shop…?” He didn’t know where to start, but he was definitely scared. “Why? Sorry I’ve been busy lately. I’ll make it up to you, angel.”

“You close your shop at nine,” you pointed out, voice breaking in the middle of your sentence. “Why do you always come home at two in the morning?”

Fuck. Fuck! What should he say? Should he make an excuse for it? Should he say he’d been checking on Yuuji after his shifts? Should he say he’d been riding to other cities to clear his mind? He didn’t fucking know what to say, especially not when you were clearly on the verge of bursting out.

“Answer me!” you cried, finally releasing the bottle out in the open. The tears that welled in your eyes now streamed ceaselessly down your face. “You’re an asshole. I-I hate you! I fucking… you think I don’t know? You think I’m too stupid to know?!”

Sukuna calmly received the fists you had swung on his chest as he tried to grab ahold of your arms. “Baby, I’ll explain everything.”

“No, damn y-you!” The tremor in your voice squeezed his heart in the most painful way because he hated seeing you breaking down in front of him and over him. This wasn’t the first time he had made you cry, but this was the first time he had seen you actually sob like this. “I-I gave myself to you! I left my p-parents for you! And this is what you do to me? You’re cheating on me with your ex?!”

He was desperate to hold you, hug you, cage you in his arms. He wanted to take your pain away. Wipe your tears away. However, you didn’t allow him to touch even a strand on your hair as you kept on pushing him off. Sukuna felt like he was going to lose his mind. “Baby, listen to me please. It’s really not what you think—”

“I don’t care!” you spat, moving away to wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t fucking care! You sleeping with her or not doesn’t change a thing. Don’t you get it? I’ll never be enough for you!” Despite your loud voice, the cracks in her facade only revealed your longing for validation and acceptance, etching into every tear-stained moment you two had shared over the course of your relationship. He watched you, paralyzed by the sight of you breaking down, as you grabbed a luggage you had been hiding behind the couch as if you were ready to leave. “I’ll never be the person you want me to be and staying with you will always remind me of it!”

“No, no, no… Let’s talk.” Sukuna had to suppress his own tears while he tried to reach out for you. “Baby, please. I don’t feel anything for her, or anyone. It’s just you. You are enough for me, baby. I’m sorry, please.”

You, on the other hand, were adamant at your decision. “I can’t stand what you’re doing to me anymore. I don’t like how you make me feel about myself. I hate how you make me question my own choices!” Tears continued to flow, and your voice wavered, transitioning from anger to a more subdued, pained tone. “I hate… I hate that I love you so much, that I lost all my backbone just to make you happy.”

“You don’t need to.” He was feeling more and more miserable now, his heart sore from all the emotions he had seen from you. “Y/N, you don’t need to. I’m sorry, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

…

“It’s over, Sukuna,” were the last words he could recall hearing before passing out drunk in his bed that afternoon. “We’re done.”

— —

It was your first heartbreak. Your first actual relationship. Your first everything. Surely, people shouldn’t expect you to move on easily, especially not when the subject of your heartache worked across the street from you.

You were a mess. You had cried enough tears after you moved out of his apartment that night, screamed your heart out as you suffered from the pain of loneliness once more. You couldn’t even bear the thought of returning to your parents and hearing them say they told you so, because loving Sukuna was a choice you thought was good for you.

In the end, he was just a poison without any antidote. A toxin without remedy. The most effective solution was to sever all ties to prevent further contamination.

But strangely enough, you hadn’t seen him in his shop ever since that night, either. The tattoo parlor remained closed for more than two weeks without any notice. While a small part of you worried for him, a bigger part of you cared for yourself. He no longer held any importance to your life, and you should let it remain that way.

What you should focus on, instead, was living your life without any trace of him. A life of independence, away from the toxicity of a manipulative man who constantly made you doubt yourself and what you offered. As they say, you have to learn to love yourself first before you can fully learn to love others.

And in your journey of knowing the truth of that saying, a certain white-haired man entered your floral shop on a somber Friday afternoon just as you were arranging preordered bouquets for multiple customers to pick up.

“Hey,” you greeted the man, surprised at his sudden appearance at your shop.

Satoru grinned as he approached you closer. “I’m here to pick up two bouquets.”

“Oh, it was your order?” Your eyes widened. Silly you. Of course, Suguru would order on his friend’s behalf. He wouldn’t even get his girlfriend some flowers, let alone his mother. So this being Satoru’s order made much more sense. “Okay, you got a bouquet of blush peonies and another bouquet of pink tulips, am I correct?”

He smiled handsomely, displaying his set of perfect white teeth while listening to you talk. “Correct.”

“For your mom?” you asked before you made your way to pick up the bouquets, handing them to him carefully.

His response came with a soft, affirmative hum. “Mhm. One for her,” he said, taking only the bouquet of tulips, “The other is for you.”

Oh, no, no, definitely no. You had seen this before and it didn’t go well.

“That’s lovely, but…” You offered a smile. “I’m not taking those peonies.”

Satoru acted innocent, his vibrant blue eyes coruscating under the ambient lights. “But it’s mother’s day.”

You playfully shook your head. “I’m not even a mother.”

“Yes, you are,” he went on teasing, “the mother of my future kids. I like to think in advance, you know.”

Honestly? This man started off with a bad impression on you, but he wasn’t actually so bad. He was an easygoing, happy-go-lucky person who carried positive energy around him. That, and he was decent, too. He was the type of guy your parents would have surely approved of. He was a degree holder like you, even pursuing graduate studies to run a business that was already generating an income that you could only imagine of getting. He was set for life with no uncertainty with what he wanted for his future.

“Satoru?”

He met your gaze. “Yeah?”

“About your offer last time,” you recalled, recalling his earlier jest about teaching you some things in bed, “I think I'd like to take you up on that.”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #tattoo artist sukuna #biker sukuna #tattoo artist x florist au

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yelenasbraid · 5 months ago

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slip of the finger — joe burrow

summary — you and joe are recently married, and he swears he’s never taking off his wedding band. that sentiment stays until he loses it on the field during a game.

warnings — fem!reader, fluff, some suggestive comments, implied smut

requested by — anon <3

BEING NEWLYWEDS WAS EXCITING. the bliss, the laughs, and the memories that were wrapped up in a beautiful bow. beginning a new chapter with the man you loved was such a privilege, and one you couldn’t wait to live to the fullest.

you and joe laid in bed, the soft duvet covering your bodies as your hands were held up in front of you. it was so surreal to you that you married your college sweetheart, that you were married. you watched the diamond sparkled underneath the warm lighting, how joe’s ring perfectly accented yours on his finger.

“i can’t believe we’re married,” you whispered, watching joe grab your hand and press it to his lips.

“i can,” he hummed, shifting onto his side, “i’ve always wanted to marry you,” he added, a lovesick look in his eyes. he admired you, the way your skin glowed in the warm lighting, the way your eyes sparkled with the love you had for him.

his words sent warmth down to your toes, your mouth pulling into a smile. you shifted onto your side, keeping the cover over your naked body. being married had many perks, including enjoying your husband. his hand reached forwards, caressing your cheek. he was so in love with you, with every part of you. his eyes flicked over your face and your exposed collarbone. he could see the marks he made just a few moments ago.

joe leaned over, his hand sliding across your skin to cup the back of your neck. he pressed his lips softly to yours, rolling so he was on top of you. your hands looped around his neck as his lips met yours. you smiled into the kiss, your cheeks rosy and warm. joe pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, his hair tickling your skin.

“i love you,” he hummed, kissing you softly again.

“i love you,” you agreed into the kiss. he hummed, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. he pulled away and sat up, running his hands down his face. while he always enjoyed moments like this and he wished he could stay like that forever, he couldn’t. it was game day.

“what time do you need to leave?” you asked him as he got out of bed. he slipped on his boxers as he disappeared into your walk in closet. it was an away game, so joe needed to be at the airport a whole day before the game. you wished it was different, but you’ve lived and loved this life for several years. you were used to it.

“in like,” there was a pause, “15 minutes,” he finished as he gathered his game day outfit. he tossed a shirt over his head and tugged black cargo pants over his hips.

“we really passed the time, huh?” you laughed, pushing your hair out of your face. you watched joe emerge from his closet, dressed in something comfy yet stylish for his flight.

“we did, didn’t we?” he smirked as he walked over, kissing you sweetly on the lips. you smiled, stretching your taut limbs under the duvet. you saw the wedding band on his finger, snug as could be.

“please don’t wear that on the field,” you begged, watching as he packed a bag.

“i won’t lose it, i’ll keep it safe,” joe assured you, zipping up his bag.

“you better, can’t have someone thinking you’re not married,” you commented, watching him smirk and scoff.

“with those marks i just gave you, i don’t think that’s possible,” he flirted, grabbing his bag and giving you a look. damn you, joe burrow.

“uh huh, ok player,” you joked as he kissed you again. he always hated leaving you; marriage hasn’t made it any easier. in fact, it’s made it ten times harder.

“i love you,” he called as he exited the bedroom.

“i love you! be safe!” you reminded him. you weren’t able to make it to the game, but you’d watch. you always watched.

—

it was finally game day, and you were curled up on your couch. you invited robin and jim over, as well as some of the other WAGs to watch the game. charcuterie boards were on the coffee table, half eaten as the game closed out the third quarter.

the bengals were up, and watching joe’s expression loose and relaxed kept you in good spirits. you hated watching tight games; you could see the stress lines on his face. you stood up, walking into the kitchen with an empty wine glass. you unscrewed the cap of the bottle, pouring out the red liquid into your cup.

“what happened to his finger?” robin asked, diverting your attention from your glass to the screen. you watched as joe showed ja’marr his ring finger, his left ring finger.

without the ring.

“joseph lee burrow,” you tsked, shaking your head and pursing your lips. what did you tell him a couple of days ago? you walked back over, taking a seat back on the couch, careful not to slosh your wine too much. robin looked over at you, a grin blossoming on her face.

“you told him to take it off, didn’t you,” robin stated. she knew you asked him to, but robin also knew another thing: joe hated taking it off. he loved showing people he was married, and that he was married to you. it wasn’t just a ring to him, it was a symbol of commitment and undying love.

“i did,” you confirmed, not being able to hold back a laugh as you sipped your wine. you knew he was stressed, you could see it on his face. everyone could see it. joe was frantically moving his hands, gesturing on the field where he thinks he lost it.

“she told me to take it off,” joe told ja’marr, running his hands through his hair. the two of them were walking the field, trying to see if the sun would reflect just right and reveal joe’s lost ring.

“and this is why we listen to our wives,” ja’marr clapped him on the shoulder, earning a scowl from joe. it didn’t last long though.

“she’s probably watching the game right now, and i’m gonna be in big trouble when i get home,” joe’s eyes scanned the field, flicking up every now and then to check how much time was left on the timeout clock. he didn’t have that much time.

“maybe she got up and got a snack,” andrei stepped beside them, offering his two cents.

“nah, she wouldn’t. she’s got her snacks right there with her. i bet she saw the whole thing,” ja’marr laughed, causing joe’s cheeks to turn pink. they didn’t have much more time before the next and final quarter was to start.

“burrow!” trey hendrickson came running over, holding the illusive gold band that would be joe’s wedding ring.

“oh thank God,” joe exhaled as he grabbed the ring from trey, “she would’ve not been happy,” joe chuckled. he handed it to one of the staffers, not risking it. he couldn’t lose it a second time.

“get a silicone one,” trey suggested, “those suckers don’t ever come off,”

“noted,” joe chuckled.

—

joe walked into the presser, wearing a t-shirt and his seinfeld sweats. he sat down, his wedding ring adorning his finger. he situated himself, preparing for all the questions about the fiasco on the field.

“find your ring?” one of the reporters asked, making joe awkwardly chuckle.

“yeah, yeah i did. thankfully,” he answered.

“did your wife see it?” another reporter asked.

“knowing her, probably. i’m not that lucky,” he joked. he nervously spun the ring around his finger, answering the other questions of the reporters. he couldn’t wait to make it home to you, settling in to your arms and hearing you tease him about losing his ring.

the press conference ended, and joe joined up with the other members of his team. as he did so, his phone vibrated in his pocket. he pulled out his phone, smiling as he answered the call.

“i know i know, i should have listened to you,” he smiled, walking a ways from the boys.

“it was kinda funny,” you admitted on the other end of the phone.

“how so?”

“seeing you scramble for your ring was entertaining,” you added. he could hear the smile on your words. he laughed, shaking his head.

“i bet it was,” he agreed.

“i ordered you a silicone one, so maybe this time you don’t lose it,” you teased.

“you didn’t have to do that,”

“what can i say, it’s a small treat for winning your game today,” you smiled, picking up the remnants of the small gathering you had. the girls and joe’s parents left a few minutes ago, leaving you alone in the house. it was nice, but you also wanted joe to hurry on back.

“you know what would also be a nice little treat?” he asked you, giving a glance around to make sure no one was listening.

“what?”

“that lingerie set you have, and you in it,” he suggested in a low voice, which he did for privacy purposes, but on your end it just turned you on.

“oh really now?”

“i think it’s the perfect little treat,” he smirked.

“i bet you do,” you laughed. you put the final things away before padding upstairs. “you said the black one, right?”

“you have multiple?”

“oh sweet joey,” you mused, opening one of your dresser drawers, “a girl always has multiple sets of lingerie,” it was your turn for your voice to go deep, driving joe wild.

there was a beat of silence on the other end of the phone.

“pick your favorite, but just so you know, i’m seeing you in all of them this week,” he warned you. you were still caught up on the fact he didn’t know about your multiple sets.

“one a night, huh?”

“you said it, not me,”

“whatever, burrow. just get home,” you laughed, pulling out a red lingerie set, “and do not lose your ring between there and home please,”

“i won’t! i promise,” he hummed. you bid your farewells, hanging up the phone. joe stood there for a minute, letting himself calm down. he didn’t know how long it would last; the thought of you surprising him in an unseen lingerie set was not boding well for him. he didn’t want to have a boner the whole flight home.

you, on the other hand, slipped out of your comfy clothes and readied for a shower. the thought of surprising joe in your lingerie set excited you, and you couldn’t wait for joe to get home, to remind him exactly why he’s got that wedding ring on his finger.

eeekk!!! this took me way longer than i liked but it’s cute!! newlywed joey is an absolute cutie. hope you enjoyed anon and so sorry for the delay!

tags: @wickedfun9 @joeyfranchise

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #the bengals #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

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astonmartinii · 2 months ago

Text

other side of the moon - chapter six | formula one imagine

chapter six: fireproof

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

testing is finally here and after the car launch, y/n is not looking forward to the mercedes garage

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | SERIES MASTERLIST

the day and a half after the car launch before max was called into the factory by red bull was a slice of peace y/n had longed for for three years. but also one she couldn’t help think would be the last bit of peace she would be afforded this season.

the pair woke up the morning after the launch, bundled up together and hair sticking up in every direction.

“good morning” y/n said, words smothered by max’s chest. the dutchman grumbled to himself as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter.

“max, your phone won’t stop vibrating - please tell whoever it is to fuck off”

max groaned, flipped over and grabbed his phone. with his eyes shut, max jammed a couple buttons and suddenly the gravely voice of helmut marko rung out.

“max! where are you? the team have just informed me that you left early and are not at the hotel?”

the dutchman finally opened his eyes. he pulled y/n back into his side and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“helmut, it’s too early for this many questions.”

“i asked you one, very straight forward question, max.”

“i’ll be at the factory tomorrow, don’t worry.”

helmut sighed down the phone, “wherever you are, make sure you’re not late and not spotted doing anything untoward.”

“me? untoward? helmut, i didn’t know you thought so low of me.”

“the only reason i believe you is because you’re on your best behaviour with y/n back, maybe we should add her to our payroll as well.”

y/n couldn’t stop herself before she burst out laughing. she smacked a hand over her mouth but it was too late. helmut hummed.

“i see. good morning miss y/ln. make sure he’s in top condition for tomorrow.”

“will do, helmut.”

max hung up as soon as he could and threw his phone down the bed. he smiles down at y/n, “that’s not exactly how i pictured my first morning in bed with you.”

“so you’ve pictured this?” y/n questions, raising an eyebrow.

“no? yes? maybe? i definitely have but i don’t want to creep you out so what do you want to hear?”

y/n laughs as he buries his head in the pillow, whining in embarrassment.

“maxy…” she sings and pokes his back.

“don’t look at me! i’m a freak!” max yells, muffled in the pillow.

“but you’re a freak for me?”

“isn’t it obvious?”

y/n finally gets max to lessen his grip on the pillow and look back up at her. there’s a dusting of pink on his face and a concerned look in his eye.

“don’t worry, i like it. as long as you’re only a freak for me.”

max ducked his head again, “as happy as i am to hear that, can we refrain from saying it like that? i was proud i managed to wake up without morning wood and you’re really testing that resolve right now.”

y/n’s laugh reverberated around the room. without the needy meows of brando, the pair could stay snuggled in the bed for much longer than usual.

“max?” y/n asked, the dutchman had rearranged them so that he could be the little spoon and had his head resting on her chest, “please don’t be sorry for your feelings. they don’t make me uncomfortable and unlike others you didn’t just assume i reciprocated. i like what we have and i want to see where it could go, but i want to take it slow. i don’t want people butting in and adding their two pence. i just want you - and our furry babies.”

y/n could see the smile breaking out on max’s face before he even lifted his head from her chest.

“i said i just want to exist with you,” max said, “that will never, ever change.”

the dutchman’s eyes flicked down to her lips and the blush returned when he realised he wasn’t too subtle about it. y/n gives him a small nod and max leans in.

“can i?”

“please,” y/n whispered as max’s lips connected with hers. it was a small peck, just a press of lips, but it was enough. both pulled back and smiled, happy to breathe the same air for a while. y/n’s hand wrapped around his nape and pulled him in for another one. this kiss lasted longer, the pair pouring their years of pining into it, communicating something words could not describe.

for a moment y/n wished that she hadn’t returned to formula one. she wished that this would be her life. happy in her coop in west london with her and max’s cats waiting for the dutchman to come home, far away from her past ghosts and the sport that nearly killed her.

“will you still find me attractive in mercedes kit?”

“that’s a stupid question. you’re the most beautiful person in the world. yes, i would prefer if it were my number and my colours, but i’ll live with it if it means seeing you at every race.”

y/n giggled, the dutchman pressed another kiss to her lips because he could.

“i know you’ll be rooting for kimi this season, but i’ll win every race for you. even if the red bull is a shit box, i’ll fight everyone to bring that trophy home to you.”

“my singular monza trophy is a little lonely,” y/n said, “but your wins are yours, not anyone else’s”

y/n pushed back the duvet and started to get out of bed, much to the chagrin of max. despite his attempted puppy-dog eyes, y/n shuffled into her slippers and made her way to the kitchen.

“find something good to watch, i’ll cook up one last cheat meal for you,” y/n’s voice called from the hallway. max stayed led in the bed, a dumb smile on his face. it all felt a bit too good to be true and he hoped those in the paddock who had already caused some trouble would stay out of this.

despite another night of snuggles, max did not want to leave for milton keynes the next morning. y/n had made him a breakfast sandwich for the ride, but it did little to console the young dutchman even though the pair would be apart for just two days before they’d reunite in monaco and fly out to bahrain.

“i don’t wanna go… i want to stay here, you’re so much nicer to look at than christian!”

max was dragging his feet as he made his way to the hire car. he even tried to delay his departure by roping frank into a conversation but y/n had thought of that and rung down to reception in advance.

“it’s like you want me gone!” max cried as he put his bags in the car.

y/n laced her fingers in his, “you know i’ll miss you, but i don’t want to hear helmut’s voice any more than i have to, so you have to go. i’ll see you in monaco.”

max pulled her into one last kiss and reluctantly got into the car. y/n waved him off as he disappeared into the streets of london.

“finally!”

a yell boomed out in the garage, making y/n jump and stick her keys out as a makeshift weapon. frank stood at the entrance of the garage with a huge smile on his face. y/n calmed down when she saw the older man.

“frank! that scared the shit out of me! how long have you been there?”

“long enough.”

frank looked very smug. y/n made her way to the entrance, pointedly ignoring the older man.

“don’t be mad, i won’t tell anyone. i’m just glad you finally realised what was right in front of you.”

did everyone see it before her? it certainly seems that way.

“we’re taking it slow, so i’d appreciate if you kept this under your hat, frank.”

“of course, miss y/ln. would you like me to arrange for another parking spot for your flat?”

y/n tried to keep a stern look but she just couldn’t help it and smiled at the older man.

“that would be lovely, thank you.”

her apartment was quiet without max. she didn’t want to say she missed him just yet, but she had to busy herself with something before she fell down that hole. she needed to pack and get a flight back to monaco so she could spend a little more time with the cats before pre-season testing kicked off the season.

y/n’s phone buzzed with a message.

kimi: y/nnnnnnnn huge favour to ask! george can only give me a lift back to london before we go to bahrain so could i maybe get a lift to brackley???

y/n: if you buy my coffee at each stop you’ve got a deal.

kimi: yes, yes. i know your order - THANK YOU !

she better get to packing.

the italian stood on the side of the road, wrapped up in two coats, a hat and a scarf. ollie stood beside him in just a t-shirt, some shorts and a pair of flip flops, showing off his british aversion to the cold.

y/n pulled up beside the pair and winded down the window. “don’t you know hitchhikers are dangerous?”

kimi smiled and gave ollie a quick hug, popping the boot and shoving his small suitcase in. the italian slipped into the passenger seat and waved at ollie.

“why didn’t i have the idea to ask you to be my mentor?” ollie whined, “esteban is great and he has already given me a ton of lifts but you’re you!”

“snooze you lose” kimi said, poking out his tongue.

“esteban is great ollie, don’t believe all this shit about him being a bad teammate. he’s lovely and will be more than happy to help you out. however, we do need to go because i need to drop off this princess and get a flight to monaco. ciao!”

y/n stood on the gas and flew off down the street. from the corner of her eye, y/n could see kimi studying her. this wasn’t too strange for the italian, he often just stared at her, amazed that she had even agreed.

“i can feel you staring kimi, do you have a question?”

“why are you so happy?”

y/n laughed at the bluntness. the italian sputtered, “i mean i’m happy you’re happy, but i can’t help but be suspicious. i haven’t heard a peep from you since the car launch… and a little birdy told me you left with a certain someone.”

“it’s been two days, kimi!”

“you’re still smiling, you can’t stop and considering you smiled maybe twice in the first couple days i knew you - this means something!”

“fine! you caught me. i did go home with max. i’m not saying anymore than we’re happy and we’re taking it slow. i’m telling you because i believe for a good mentor relationship i should be completely open, as should you. also you’re like a quasi-son to me so there’s also that. do not tell anyone else, i’m serious. not even ollie.”

kimi whined at that, “but i tell ollie everything!”

“well not this. you saw how some of the people, including your teammate are with me and max, i do not want to give them any ammunition, okay?”

kimi hummed to himself, his brain whirring so loudly that even y/n could hear it over the music and the road. “speaking of those who WILL be without ammunition because i WILL keep my mouth zipped shut… how are we actually planning on tackling george this season?”

y/n was making the turn off of the motorway and towards brackley as she chuckled, “aside from physically tackling him at testing? i am joking, by the way. kimi, i don’t want you to worry about george anywhere but the track. he talks a big talk, but he’s very easy to frustrate when he’s not winning. don’t give him the rise he’ll want, okay?”

the tension rose in the car, it had all been fun and games up until this point, cocktails parties and car launches. but now it was getting real. y/n had the voice in the back of her head that worried that her off-track drama with the other drivers could impact kimi’s career.

“please stop worrying, y/n. i know what you’re thinking, but i am capable of handling it myself. i may only be eighteen but i’m not afraid of anyone.”

y/n pulled up outside of the mercedes factory and turned to kimi. she grabbed his hands, “promise me, kimi. promise me that if the drama with me gets too much, you will say something. i know it’s your dream to work with me, but make sure i do not interfere with your career.”

kimi scoffed, “them being afraid of you will never be your fault, you know-”

“it doesn’t matter if my fault or not, if their pettiness fucks with you, i won’t be able to forgive myself…”

just as they spoke, george pulled up beside them in his mercedes. the brit wasn’t alone in his car however. a brunette woman sat in the passenger seat, and much like george, her eyes narrowed at the sight of y/n.

“that’s carmen, george’s girlfriend. she doesn’t usually come to the factory with him?” kimi gasped, “maybe she’s here to stake her claim on george, as if you’d want him anyway…”

y/n laughed as kimi got out of the car. the italian grabbed his stuff from the boot and walked round to the window. y/n rolled it down and the two did their handshake.

“enjoy the prep, bunny, don’t make too much mess. see you in bahrain!”

the moment was cut short by someone clearing their throat. carmen had rolled down her window and was looking at kimi, less than impressed. the italian squeaked a quick goodbye and shuffled towards the entrance.

y/n tried not to make eye contact with carmen as she inputted the airport’s address into her gps. she was baffled by the news that george even had a girlfriend, not that she wanted kimi or the couple to know that. how long had they been together? did she know about y/n and about george’s weird feud with her? too many questions and not enough answers.

george and carmen made their way past y/n’s car and stopped just in front of the entrance, pointedly in y/n’s eye line. the two kissed, messily for people their age, and just to sum up her return so far, george kept eye contact with y/n the entire time, his hand wandering lower and lower on carmen.

2025 was the year of psychological warfare it seemed. y/n could work with that.

she sped out of the car park with new vigour. if psychological warfare was what george was ordering, y/n needed to know everything about everyone. she had stayed away from the drama surrounding formula one in her three years away from the sport, but it was time to go full gossip girl.

it’s crazy how much you can find in an hour in an airline bar about your former colleagues. y/n’s phone started ringing loudly, earning her some dirty looks in the lounge.

“maxy! did you know that george dated nyck’s sister?” y/n said, shovelling the free nuts in her mouth, “and that lando and pierre once liked the same girl in dubai?”

“why oh why are you telling me about this?” max said.

“because that prick wants psychological warfare, so i have to know everything!”

max hummed, not convinced. “am i like missing something?”

“i took kimi to brackley this morning and was treated to a lovely show from george and carmen. the weirdo kept eye contact with me the entire time! so if he wants to play it like that, i gotta know my enemies.”

“as weird as this all is, i’m glad to see you’re so into all of this, miss detective.”

y/n laughed, “i know i’m reading way too much about all of this, but i swear to god if he tries to fuck with kimi or you, i’ll play dirty if i have to. i mean i just don’t understand why he’s being such an asshole now about everything i supposedly did when he has a girlfriend - insecure much?”

max laughed down the line, they really were so much more alike than people would think. hearing her now, max wished she was back in the paddock for qatar and abu dhabi last year just to see what kind of revenge she could’ve thought up.

“anyway, maxy, are you still at the factory?”

“yeah, we’re just on a break, i’m outside getting some air and i didn’t know whether you were on the plane yet or not - you know you could’ve taken air max if you wanted to?”

y/n smiled, “i didn’t need your plane for a trip to monaco, silly! i’ll only be on the flight for a little while anyway and i’m only going because i’m having withdrawal symptoms from my babies!”

“why would you say this, now i want to see them!”

the boarding sign popped up, “ah! i gotta go maxy, i’ll text you when i’m back at yours - what time does the cat sitter go?”

“she will have left like an hour or so before you get back. stay safe, i -”

there was chatter in the background, “i gotta go, bye!”

max hung up quickly. y/n was left to her thoughts again and just how much life can change. this time three years ago she was making notes about the season coming, turns to watch and previous first lap incidents and now she’s compiling gossip on the grid’s personal lives? part of her wanted to be ashamed, but in the same vain, she knew that her adversaries hadn’t spared a moment for introspection.

max’s apartment in monaco was alight with the impatient meows from brando, sassy and jimmy. the cats yowled like they hadn’t been fed in days, although clarissa, the cat sitter, had sent max and y/n nearly hourly updates on them.

“oh my babies! momma missed you so much!” y/n said, abandoning her suitcase at the door and ushering the cats towards the couch. once she was sat, brando bullied his way onto her lap, his spot, and jimmy and sassy snuggled up beside her as closely as possible.

she pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture of herself and the cats and sent it to max.

max: all my favourites in one place, you’re making listening to christian drone on even harder

y/n: you better keep listening, maxy, don’t want anyone else winning this season do you?

max: i do hate losing…

y/n smiled to herself, there was no lying to now, this place with the cats and max felt like home. the most at home y/n had felt for years.

“right, momma needs to shower and cook, babies!” brando did not look impressed but consoled himself by going back to grooming an equally unimpressed jimmy.

y/n rustled around max’s wardrobe trying to find a smaller towel for her hair. max wasn’t the most organised, especially with a wardrobe where he could just shut the door and forget the mess behind it. she finally got the towel loose, but with the last yank, a small book came flying out of the wardrobe.

the book was a small leather-bound book, clearly loved, bursting at the seams with use. y/n flicked open the book, scanning a couple of the pages. she could recognise the handwriting anywhere, was this max’s diary?

y/n flicked through a couple more of the pages before she landed on a page that boldly stated “fuck lando” in bold capitals. oh? the page was dated for a day in january 2020, just before she started her formula one career.

she knew this was a massive invasion of privacy, but max had never mentioned having a bust up with lando around that time - her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

i don’t know what lando’s problem is? i was on a discord call with him, george and alex this evening and he was in such a mood with me. it was all about y/n as usual with him, he’s being proper weird about her. of course we’ve already started training and discussing racing lines? we’re best friends. it’s almost like he knows i have feelings for her? but i know i haven’t been THAT obvious, at least not as bad as him and george. they think i don’t know, but they must think i’m dumb or blind (or both). he’s going to ruin his friendship with her if he’s not careful. i have loved y/n for as long as i can remember, but i don’t ever intend on making that her problem - why would she ever want to be with me? they assume because they’ve known her so long that they have this weird claim on her. i don’t know - i have a bad feeling about how this might all play out… i’ll just be there for y/n, she’s going to need it…

y/n slapped the book shut, feeling guilty about just how much she had read. max had liked her for that long? even when she was a jittery rookie with hormonal acne and way too much to say. and lando has always had this problem? there was never any chance of them being good teammates was there?

it feels like there’s a surprise around every corner since y/n reopened the pandora’s box that is formula one. how much was there left to reveal? to hurt her? can she handle what other secrets the sport has waiting for her?

but on the other side, if she had stayed in the shadows, y/n would’ve never known about max’s feelings and would never have the opportunity for what she feels right now.

y/n tucked the book back in the wardrobe and tried to wash the guilt off in the shower.

bahrain international circuit

testing was a boring affair for everyone that wasn’t in or working on the car. y/n was on her third coffee of the morning just out of pure boredom. kimi was in the car for the morning session and despite him paying her salary, toto did not seem like he’d make good conversation based on the frown on his face.

y/n saw sky making their way back down the pit lane and ducked back into the drivers’ rooms. because timing and fate loved y/n, george was leaving his just at the same moment.

it took a concerted effort not to roll her eyes as she forced out a quick good morning. george stopped in his tracks.

“good morning to you too?”

y/n gave him a nod and continued to kimi’s room, george grabbed her hand.

“are we going to have a problem the entire season? all of kimi’s career?”

“why would i have a problem, george? is there a reason i should have a problem?”

george huffed, “listen to me. we used to be so close… i wasn’t the one who crashed into you, why are you treating me like this?”

“george i’m not treating you like anything! 19 other drivers didn’t hear from me, you’re not special.”

y/n took a sip of her coffee, trying to school her heart rate, “you may have not crashed into me, but you hardly said much afterwards. you didn’t even come and visit me in the hospital? you didn’t post or say a single thing about me? you barely could bring yourself to say my name, so please spare me the lecture.”

george opened his mouth to respond but stopped, he tried to make eye contact with y/n but she avoided it.

“i didn’t think you wanted to see anyone to do with formula one! and you’re you! you hate dumb shit like instagram dedications and all that stuff…”

“you and your little partner in crime seem to be baffled about how max was the one who slipped through the cracks and stayed in my life. well read between the lines, idiot! his dedication to me is still pinned on his account, my number is on his helmet and he made the effort after the crash! you did nothing and you still expect me to coddle you?”

george tried to interject, “no! i think you’ve said enough already, george. you say all of this shit about how i led you on, but now you’re bringing up old drama when you’ve been in a relationship for years? so what’s the real reason? because so help me god, you fuck with kimi and i burn this whole place down.”

just behind george, y/n saw toto come into view. the austrian’s face told her that he had heard everything.

“well wasn’t that just great, thank you, you two. next time you have a domestic at track, please lower your voice, the entire garage now knows your business.”

“toto, i can assure you i will be nothing less than professional this season. winning with mercedes is my top priority, y/n will learn her place in this garage.”

even toto seemed taken aback by george’s words. y/n turned, her shoulder knocking george’s on the way past, “i think toto is well aware of who he hired and i know my place, just like kimi knows his… don’t crane your neck too much looking up at him on the podium.”

y/n shut the door to kimi’s driver room, and slid down to the floor. it was only the first day of testing and she’s exhausted. just outside the room she can hear george and toto still talking.

“i’m just saying i think it’s insane and honestly a little disrespectful that you hired her to begin with, toto.”

“i hired her because she was a talented driver and is willing to mentor kimi. i was not aware you two had a problem, and the fact that i’ve heard so much about it now without knowing what it actually is makes me think that the problem was in fact YOU. now calm down and get ready for your session.”

okay, maybe not all hope was lost. but y/n knew that this was just the start, the real racing had yet to begin and who knows how far george could take it, especially if the mercedes is competitive and especially if he finds out about her and max.

y/n popped open her laptop to keep track of kimi’s times on track but found herself struggling to keep her eyes open. by the time her impromptu nap had finished, kimi was making his way back into the garage, finishing the morning session. y/n made her way back into the garage to greet him as he made his way out of the car.

the session looked positive for the italian, but the pair were still anxious to see how george would perform, considering both were on the same program for the day. when kimi lifted his helmet, the two made eye contact, the italian’s eyes were so expressive that y/n could already hear the excited chatter.

“oh my god, y/n that was amazing! i know i’ve driven f1 cars before but knowing it’s actually mine for the season? wow!”

“well i’m glad you enjoyed it, let’s get some electrolytes in you before we sit down to analyse everything.”

the pair headed for the mercedes hospitality, with the other morning drivers doing the same throughout the paddock. during y/n’s nap she had missed the only real incident of the day, but a certain spaniard was about to make sure she knew.

“hey! antonelli!”

kimi’s head whipped around to see an angry carlos sainz charging towards him. the spaniard was clearly taking advantage of the lack of media outlets allowed at testing, getting in kimi’s face.

“you might be a rookie, but you’ll stay out of my way, got it? impede me like that again and we’ll see what happens!”

y/n pulled kimi behind her and jabbed her finger at carlos’ chest. “you self-important asshole, he didn’t impede you it’s testing. i know you’re at williams this season, so you’re going to have to invent a storyline for yourself, but trust me, this is not the one you want.”

“stay out of this y/ln, why don’t you stick to hopping into whoever’s winning’s bed, huh?”

y/n let out a sarcastic laugh, not caring about the small crowd forming around them. “your glory days, well whatever you call being stuck in charles’ shadow, playing politics with daddy to get given wins at ferrari only to be cast aside when you got a bit too big for your boots, are over. don’t be the bitter old bitch that makes rookies’ lives hell? oh wait, you’ve always been that way haven’t you?”

“you are a perpetual victim, y/n. that was years ago, get over it.”

“and yet you still act the exact same way. telling, really.”

carlos stayed quiet this time and y/n took that as the chance to guide kimi to hospitality. with their backs turned, “she won’t always be there for you, rookie! she can’t sleep with all of the stewards and she won’t be in the office to bat her eyelashes. so watch your back.”

y/n kept walking despite kimi tugging on her arm, wanting to retaliate. “stop. let him make a fool of himself.”

despite y/n trying to de-escalate the situation, max was less willing to do so. the dutchman had only heard a fraction but that was enough to rear the head of mad max.

“you think you’re so cute with this shit don’t you, sainz,” max said, looming over the spaniard, “you people never change, it’s pathetic.”

“the only thing that’s pathetic here is you, being her lap dog - and we’re meant to be scared of you? all we gotta do is flash an ankle or raise a hand and you’ll be eating out of our palm.”

max’s hands were shaking by his side and it took everything inside of him not to lunge at carlos. y/n’s grip on kimi tightened when jos was brought up, the crowd around them tensing as well.

“i don’t know what she does for you, but you surely can’t still be falling for it all these years later. i remember at toro rosso when you’d wake up the whole camp screaming in your motorhome and you’d call her crying. a four-time world champion and you still go crawling back to her.”

“she’s worth more than you could ever wish to be. i don’t know what propaganda your dad or lando has been feeding you, but you’re a grown man, you’re too old to be falling for it. now leave her and kimi alone. i’d threaten you, but it’s unlikely that williams will be anywhere near me this season.”

max gave one last look to y/n before running back towards the red bull garage. the crowd that had formed chattered amongst themselves and started to disperse. carlos looked enraged but backed off, not without one final glare towards the italian.

“i didn’t know formula one was just this dramatic,” kimi said, “i need to work on my insults!”

y/n laughed, but a voice from behind her stopped her dead in her tracks.

“always the centre of drama, aren’t you y/n? always looking for trouble.”

zak brown.

fin.

note: wow this took me so long to write and i kinda hate it! i am in such a rut rn idk what to do ? but i hope you guys enjoyed it anyway!

taglist: @peterholland04@miureiz@freyathehuntress@lighttsoutlewis@aleatorio1234@chaosandevelyn@blueberry648579@dog-and-cat-person230@fastandcurious16@obxstiles@cosmicwintr@becca388510 @savagittariuspy@tibadi @thisbitxhs-blog @finn-dot-com @scenesofobx @moofilms @alilstressyandlotdepressy @nana-love-bugzzz @mayax2o07 @obsessed-fan-alert @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @jajouska @poppysrin @mimimarvelingmarvel @jiyumie @heeseungthel0ml

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#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x reader #kimi antonelli #ollie bearman #george russell

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dreamersparacosm · 10 days ago

Text

jeon jungkook - under the checkered flag (part six)

warnings ; oral (f recieving), handjob kinda, lowkey breeding kink at one point, unprotected sex (18+)

prompt ; in which a girl who doesn’t believe in risks takes the biggest one of all—falling for a man who lives for the thrill.

note ; wow!!!! part 6… the final part :( guys i am SO sad about this. this is my first series for a bts member and the community that you guys have formed in my comments, all your love and feedback, mean the WORLD to me. thank you so much <3 with that being said, please enjoy this chapter, it was so fun to write. psa! under the taglist is a surprise.. my inbox is open ;)

playlist here

series masterlist here

There’s no official conversation about it, no moment where you decide, Yes, I’m going to spend every waking hour at Jungkook’s house, making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid while he heals.

It just… happens.

And he lets it happen.

Because somewhere between making sure he eats, fluffing his pillows, sitting beside him on the couch as he watches races he’s too injured to compete in, somewhere between all of that, something shifts.

It’s in the small things. Things that should feel normal, should feel harmless, but don’t.

Like the way you absentmindedly fix his hair, your fingers running through the messy strands without a second thought.

It happens the first time when you’re both sitting on the couch, him scrolling through his phone, you flipping through a book. His hair is falling into his eyes, and without thinking, you reach over, brushing it back, smoothing it down with gentle fingers.

Your hand lingers for a second too long, fingertips brushing the warmth of his skin before you realize what you’re doing.

Your eyes widen, pulling back quickly. “Oh. Sorry.”

But Jungkook just stares at you, his lips twitching slightly, before he hums.

“Nah.” His voice is low, unreadable, and thens softer: “I liked it.”

Damn him. Because that’s when it starts, like a landslide that was long overdue.

Then, there’s the hand thing.

Apparently, Jungkook has developed a habit of grabbing your hand whenever you walk by him. The first time, you think it’s an accident. The second time, it’s not.

You’re walking past the couch, heading toward the kitchen, and suddenly, warm fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging lightly. You stumble slightly, glancing down at him, wide-eyed. “What?”

Jungkook just shrugs, gaze too casual, too innocent.

“Dunno.” His thumb brushes against the inside of your wrist, barely noticeable, but you notice. “Just wanted you closer for a second.”

You swallow hard, the warmth of his skin buzzing against yours, and then you can’t remember why you were going to the kitchen in the first place.

There’s also the way he watches you when you cook.

It starts with little things, like him sitting on the counter, swinging his legs like a child, stealing pieces of whatever you’re chopping.

Then it turns into something else entirely.

One night, you’re standing in his kitchen, stirring a pot of pasta, and you feel it. The weight of his gaze. You turn slightly, meeting his eyes across the kitchen island, and your heart is in your throat.

Jungkook isn’t just watching you. He’s looking at you like you hung the damn moon, like he’s never seen anything—anyone—more captivating.

You try to play it off, clearing your throat. “Why are you staring at me?”

Jungkook leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his palm, a small smirk playing at his lips.

“Because you’re cute when you cook,” he says simply.

Your hands fumble on the spoon, nearly dropping it into the pot. You glare. “Shut up.”

Jungkook laughs in response, soft and warm.

Despite your best efforts, despite the walls you’ve built and the sharp edges you’ve wielded like armor, you feel it. The way your pulse stumbles every time Jungkook looks at you like that. The way your mind stops moving when he leans in too close, his voice curling around your spine like smoke. The way your hands clench into fists, desperate to feign control when all you want to do is give in. And really, there’s no denying anything after the moment that shatters your last defense.

You’re half-asleep, stumbling into the kitchen early in the morning, yawning and stretching as you open the fridge. You’re not thinking, noteven remotely aware, until you hear, “Baby.”

Your blood runs cold. You turn slowly, only to find Jungkook sitting at the kitchen table, completely still, eyes locked onto you like you just did something illegal. And that’s when you realize you are wearing his hoodie.

Not just any hoodie. His favorite hoodie.

Oversized, drowning you in fabric, sleeves covering your hands, the hem brushing against the middle of your thighs. It was the first thing you found in the dark of his room yesterday as you were going to bed.

Your face erupts in flames. “I—”

Jungkook just leans back, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip, eyes dark and unreadable. “You look good in my clothes,” he murmurs.

You squeak, turn around, pretending to be extremely invested in the contents of the fridge, because you are not equipped to deal with this right now. Jungkook just laughs, shaking his head as he sips his coffee.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The movie is playing, yet neither of you are watching.

The volume is low, voices murmuring from the screen, but the real story—the real gravity of the moment—is here, on the couch. Jungkook is stretched out, his head resting in your lap, his body completely at ease beneath your touch. His eyes are closed, his breathing slow and steady, like he could drift off at any second. Your fingers are in his hair, lightly threading through the dark strands, brushing against his scalp in soft, lazy motions. You’re not even thinking about it.

It’s automatic now—something so natural, so easy, that it barely registers.

"You like taking care of me, huh?" His voice is low, teasing, and you feel it vibrate against your thigh where he’s resting.

Your fingers freeze mid-motion. You scoff, shaking your head, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

"You wish," you mutter.

Jungkook grins, his eyes still closed, completely unfazed by your weak attempt at denial.

"You do," he hums, tilting his head slightly. "I can feel it in your hands."

Your fingers are still in his hair, but now they’re trembling slightly. His smirk grows, but he doesn’t push further. Instead, he sighs, stretching slightly against the couch.

"You should be working," he muses. "Not playing house with me."

You huff, finally snapping out of it, rolling your eyes. "You’re making it sound like I’m skipping work entirely."

"You’re here a lot."

You pause.

He’s not wrong.

You’ve been here every day since the hospital. And the thing is, it hasn’t even felt like an inconvenience. It’s just where you want to be.

Still, you try to play it off.

"I’m still working," you insist. "I answer emails, take calls. Plus, Jisoo’s been covering a lot of my work. It’s fine."

Jungkook hums, like he’s not fully convinced. "You should quit and take care of me full-time."

You snort, flicking his forehead lightly. "Yeah, that’s exactly what I want. Becoming Jeon Jungkook’s personal assistant."

"You already do everything for me anyway," he murmurs, voice dropping slightly. "Might as well make it official."

You roll your eyes. "Shut up and watch the movie."

But Jungkook doesn’t watch the movie.

In fact, he opens his eyes and his gaze finds yours, deep, dark. His smirk fades, his expression softening just slightly, like something unspoken is hanging between you both.

The room feels smaller, the air heavier, and you realize you’re still touching him, still stroking his hair, still so close.

Jungkook notices it, too. His tongue flicks out, wetting his bottom lip, and your eyes catch on the silver ring piercing through the skin.

Your stomach flips. Your heart pounds. And before you can stop yourself, you lean down and kiss him.

The moment your lips meet, Jungkook goes completely still. For a second, you think you’ve ruined everything. For a second, you panic, about to pull away, and then Jungkook reaches up, his fingers curling around the back of your neck, and pulls you deeper.

The kiss is slow, unhurried, filled with everything you’ve both been holding back since the hospital.

It’s soft at first, like you’re memorizing the way he feels, the way his lips move against yours. Jungkook sighs into your mouth, his fingers tightening slightly against your skin, and it’s hungrier, needy, dangerous in the way it completely ruins you.

His lip ring is cool against your mouth, the sensation sending shivers down your spine, and Jungkook must noticebecause he groans softly, pressing closer, deeper, like he can’t get enough.

You don’t know how long it lasts. Minutes. Hours. A lifetime. All you know is neither of you want to let go.

When you finally pull away, breathless, wide-eyed, Jungkook’s gaze is locked onto yours, his lips still parted, swollen, pink, wrecked.

"Shit," he breathes, chest rising and falling too fast.

You don’t know what to do. Your pulse is a war drum, relentless and deafening, each beat crashing against your ribs like a tidal wave. The world around you blurs, drowned out by the rush of blood roaring in your ears like the aftershock of something unstoppable, something you can’t take back. and you don’t know if it’s from the kiss or from the realization that you just did that. You kissed him first.

Jungkook: your friend, your maybe-something-more.

He just stares at you, his lips still parted, still pink and wrecked from your mouth, like he’s trying to figure something out.

His head tilts slightly, his dark eyes tracing every inch of your face, and his voice comes out soft, teasing, but careful. “Did you just kiss me because you feel bad for me?"

You blink, stiffening, “Excuse me?"

Jungkook’s lips twitch, and you immediately recognize the mischief forming in his expression.

"I mean," he hums, stretching slightly, lazy and smug, "I am injured. It’s possible you’re just doing a good deed, you know? Kissing the wounded, lifting morale—"

Your face erupts in flames. “Jungkook," you hiss, shoving at his shoulder.

He laughs, tilting his head back against the couch, completely unbothered, and you want to die.

You bury your face in your hands. "Oh my God."

"Don’t be shy now," he grins. "You started it."

You groan. Technically, he’s right. You did start it. You kissed him. And even worse? You don’t regret it, not even a little bit.

Still, you struggle to recover, clearing your throat as you attempt to calm the wildfire spreading through your chest.

"When do you stop being annoying?” you mutter, shaking your head.

"Never."

You glare, but your face is still burning, and you know he can see it.

His grin softens, the teasing flickering into something warmer.”So, what is it then? Why’d you kiss me?"

Your stomach twists, a knot pulled too tight, unraveling something you can’t control. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that betrays you. And for once, you have no words, because the truth is, you don’t know when this happened. You don’t know how it happened.

All you know is that it did. Somewhere between the stolen glances and the sharp-edged banter, between the push and pull, the lines blurred. And now it feels like the ground beneath you is cracking, like the world you built so carefully is crumbling at his feet.

All you know is that Jungkook is in every part of your day now. That he’s the first person you think about when something funny happens at work. That you check your phone more times than you should, waiting for his name to pop up. That being around him feels easy, but missing him feels unbearable.

So when you finally speak, the words fall out of you before you can stop them. “I don’t know when I started needing you in my life this bad."

Jungkook stills completely, his expression flickering, his eyes searching yours.

Silence. Hanging between you like a thread stretched too thin. Your chest is rising and falling too fast, your heart pounding so loudly it’s all you can hear.

He’s just staring at you, like you just said something that knocked the breath out of him.

You panic. Because what the hell did you just say?

"Oh my God," you blurt, words tumbling out too fast, your brain unable to stop your mouth from running. "I didn’t mean—well, I did, but not like that—not in a weird way. I just— I don’t know when it happened, okay? I wasn’t planning on it, it just—God, I don’t even know why I’m talking so much right now, I just—"

Jungkook doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe. He’s just watching you with that stupidly fond, breathtaking expression, like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I mean—shit." You run a hand through your hair, completely spiraling now. "I don’t know when it happened, okay? I don’t know when I— when I started wanting to be around you all the time, when I started waiting for your texts, when I started feeling weird about you hanging out with other girls. I don’t even know why I agreed to go on that stupid date because the whole time, I was thinking about you—"

Jungkook’s grin stretches wider. You don’t see it, too caught up in your spiral.

"And I know you’re bad for me," you continue, voice rising. "I know you’re reckless and impulsive and you drive too fast and hang out with models who have legs for days, and I don’t—I don’t do that. I don’t do guys like you. I’ve never done guys like you—"

Jungkook just hums, tilting his head. "Like me?"

You groan, exasperated, flustered, absolutely losing it. “Yes! Like you! Stupid race car drivers with tattoos and piercings and, and who flirt with me when I’m trying to eat cheese!"

Jungkook bursts out laughing.

You want the ground to swallow you entirely. Your entire body is on fire.

"Forget it," you say immediately, shaking your head, embarrassment consuming you whole. "I’m leaving—"

But before you can even attempt an escape, Jungkook moves, sits up, grabs your wrists, pulls your hands away from your burning face.

Then he grins, sowide, so sudden, it could split his face in half. “You want to leave?"

You groan, immediately hiding your face in your hands. "No."

Jungkook laughs, a low, delighted sound that hits you like a slow-moving car crash.

"Baby," he murmurs, soft, warm fingers cupping your face, tilting your chin up until you have no choice but to look at him.

It’s ridiculous, really. One stupid word, rolling off his tongue like it belongs there, turns your spine to jelly and your brain to static. Baby. Soft, easy, like he doesn’t even think twice about it, while you’re over here barely holding onto the last functioning brain cell you have left. Every time he says it, warmth floods your veins like a slow burn, creeping up your neck, curling into your chest, making your knees feel just a little too weak for comfort.

It’s infuriating. Unfair.

And if he doesn’t stop soon—if he doesn’t quit with that lazy smirk and the way he drawls it out like he knows exactly what he’s doing—you’re going to collapse right here, dignity be damned.

His eyes are burning into yours, intense, overwhelming, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.

He kisses you. But this time it’s different. No hesitation from either of you, no fear, no holding back anything anymore.

It’s slow, deep, and sure, the kind of kiss that takes its time, the kind that says you have me, you’ve always had me, I’ve been waiting for you to realize it.

And when he finally pulls away, when his forehead rests against yours, when his thumb brushes over your cheek like he never wants to stop touching you, he smiles.

“I’m crazy about you." He murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

You exhale sharply.

"Since the first day I met you in that stupid VIP box."

You pull back slightly, blinking. "What?"

Jungkook grins, his fingers still cradling your jaw, his thumbs brushing lightly against your skin. “I was pretty much a goner for you the moment you ignored me."

Your lips part, heart skipping a beat.

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head. "You were standing there in your little corporate suit, sipping wine and nibbling on cheese. And I—" He exhales, tilting his head, eyes scanning your face like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. "I was hooked. Right there."

You just stare at him. He’s dead serious. He’s not teasing, not flirting just to get a reaction.

"You…" You swallow. "You were really into me back then? It wasn’t some plot to get in my pants?"

Jungkook scoffs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

"Baby," he murmurs, voice low, smooth, his hands still holding your face like he’s afraid you’ll run if he lets go. “I’ve been obsessed with you since day one."

You thought you were in control. You thought you could keep this contained, keep whatever this thing was locked behind a confinement in your brain, something you could observe from a safe distance without ever letting it touch you. But you were wrong.

Somewhere along the way, he seeped into the cracks. Slowly, insidiously, until there wasn’t a single part of your life untouched by him. He was in the way your mind wandered at the worst possible times, in the way your pulse quickened at the mere mention of his name. He was in the spaces between your thoughts, lingering like an unfinished sentence, a song you couldn’t stop humming.

Maybe, just maybe, you denied yourself because you thought you didn’t deserve it. Because somewhere deep down, you convinced yourself that happiness wasn’t meant for people like you—people who built their lives on control and ambition, who never asked for more than what they could handle.

But now, sitting here, with the weight of everything crashing down on you, you realize the truth.

This is so much bigger than you ever let yourself see.

And you think you’ve been obsessed with him, too. For a very, very long time.

The words settle between you, heavy and certain, like they belong there, like they’ve always belonged there. You swallow hard, eyes flickering down to where his thumb brushes slow circles against your cheekbone.

"You—" Your voice is barely above a whisper, the syllable trembling in your throat. "You have not."

Jungkook huffs a soft laugh, tilting his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. "You think I’m lying?"

You nod, because what else can you do?

Jungkook is Jungkook. Gold medals, renowned driver, flashing lights, fangirls screaming his name. You are none of that.

Jungkook watches you for a beat. Then another. Then he leans in again, his nose brushing against yours, his lips just barely grazing the corner of your mouth.

"You really have no idea," he murmurs, voice like gravel and honey, "how deep I’m in this, do you?"

Your pulse jumps, your fingers tightening slightly against his sleeves. “I—"

But your voice dies in your throat as he closes the distance again.

Another kiss. Completely consuming you. This one rougher, hungrier. Like something inside him snapped, like holding back isn’t an option anymore. His hands find your waist, grip tightening like he needs to feel every inch of you against him.

You fall into it, into him, clutching at his shirt, nails digging into his skin, because this time it isn’t just heat. It’s need. A craving neither of you know how to control.

You make a small, startled noise against his mouth, and Jungkook groans softly, deepening it, his fingers slipping into your hair like he never wants to let you go.

His lip ring is cool against your mouth, a contrast to the heat of his skin, the way he kisses you like he’s memorizing you, like he’s claiming you, piece by piece, second by second.

And between kisses and shared breaths, he murmurs, ��You were the first girl to ever make me feel something real.”

A soft press of his lips.

"And I wanted to ruin you for it."

A deeper, slower kiss, leaving you lightheaded.

"You were so shy, so put together,” He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip. "and I wanted to see what you’d look like completely wrecked for me."

Your breath shudders, your entire body buzzing, warm, overwhelmed. Jungkook just smirks, because he can feel the way your heart is pounding against his own.

"Too much?" he teases, voice low.

You shake your head quickly, embarrassingly eager. "No."

His smirk grows, but his eyes are so, so soft.

"You don’t have to be shy with me, baby," he murmurs, pressing another slow, lazy kiss against your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips.

You whimper, gripping onto his shirt as he kisses you again, slower this time, deeper.

And between another breathless kiss, you whisper, “I don’t know what to do with you."

Jungkook’s gaze darkens, his thumb still stroking over your lip, his touch featherlight but devastating. The corner of his mouth quirks up, amusement flickering in his eyes at your quiet confession.

"You don’t know what to do with me?" he echoes, his voice low, rough with something dangerous. His other hand slides down your waist, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your hip. "That’s okay, baby."

His lips brush yours again, just barely, a teasing ghost of a kiss. “I know exactly what to do with you."

Your breath stutters, your fingers clenching against his shoulders as he tilts his head, his lips skimming along your jaw, down to your throat. His teeth graze your skin, just enough to make you shiver, just enough to make your knees weaken.

"You’re so sweet," he murmurs, his voice a silken taunt against your skin. His hand drifts lower, over the fabric of your shorts, his touch possessive. "So innocent.”

His fingers curl around your chin, tilting your face back toward his, forcing you to meet his gaze. His pupils are blown, his lips parted, his expression drenched in something dark, something hungry.

"But not with me," he whispers, his breath hot against your lips. "With me, you’re gonna let go, aren’t you?"

Your pulse pounds, your chest tightens, the heat in his stare making it impossible to breathe. You can’t think, can’t speak, can only feel.

His smirk deepens, his grip tightening just slightly as he speaks softly, “You wanna know what to do with me, baby?"

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his next words sending a shiver down your spine. “Let me show you."

You don’t know what to do. Your mind is still a mess, still overwhelmed by all of this—the weight of his hands on you, the heat of his body, the way he kisses you like he never wants to stop.

You pull away from him, cheeks burning, lips flushed, “I don’t want to—"

"Hurt me?" he finishes, amused.

You nod, because of course that’s what you mean. He was just in a car crash, for God’s sake.

But Jungkook just hums, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your jawline, his hands tracing soothing circles over your waist. “You’re cute when you worry about me."

You huff, but your fingers tighten slightly against his shirt. “I mean it, Jungkook."

"And I mean it too," he murmurs, nuzzling against your neck for a second before pulling back to meet your gaze again.

His expression shifts, turns serious, tender, something so unlike his usual teasing self that it makes your chest ache. “I’m fine."

You blink, hesitant. “You’re sure?"

Jungkook smirks, before suddenly, his hands grip your waist firmly, and you barely have time to react before he pulls you onto his lap in one swift motion. You gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders, your thighs now straddling either side of him.

Jungkook just grins, watching your reaction closely, his grip on your hips tight, warm, steady.

"See?" His voice is low, playful, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Totally fine."

You’re still too stunned to respond, completely frozen in his hold, hyper-aware of every inch of him beneath you.

"Though…" He tilts his head, pretending to think. "I might have been playing it up a little."

Your brows furrow, breath still uneven. “Playing what up?"

Jungkook’s hands slide down to your thighs, fingertips teasing the bare skin just beneath your shorts, and you shiver.

"My injuries," he admits, smirking. "Just a little."

Your jaw drops. “Jungkook—"

"I mean, come on," he laughs, completely unbothered by your glare. "Do you know how nice it’s been? You taking care of me? Fussing over me? Cooking for me? Sleeping in my apartment?"

Your stomach flips. “You— you lied?"

He shrugs, completely unapologetic. "Only a little."

Before you can respond, Jungkook’s grip tightens on your hips again, pulling you closer.

Your irritation melts into something else entirely. The second you shift against him, you feel it. The undeniable truth that he’s wanted you for so long, for so, so long, and now you’re finally here, finally his.

"Baby," he murmurs, softer now, his voice dipping into something more real.

You swallow hard. "What?"

His eyes search yours, tracing every detail of your face, like he’s memorizing you, like he can’t believe you’re really here straddling him.

"You have no idea," he breathes, "how bad I want you."

Your heart stops in its tracks. Because neither did you—or well, you had convinced yourself you were delusional. Not until now. Not until this moment, until the weight of him beneath you, until the soft press of his hands against your skin, until the way he looks at you like you’re something out of a dream.

You don’t know what to do with that. So instead, you do the only thing you can.

You kiss him again. This time, you let yourself feel it all.

It’s overwhelming the way he wants you. You’ve never been wanted like this before. Never been touched like you’re precious and ruined all at once. And the way Jungkook holds you—fingers digging into your hips, lips trailing soft, lingering kisses along your jaw, breath uneven as he tries to keep himself together—it’s undoing you completely. Because he’s not just any man. He’s Jeon Jungkook: reckless, untouchable, the best in the game, the kind of guy people worship from a distance. But right now, he’s under you, beneath you, pulling you in like he’s afraid to let go. Like he doesn’t just want you—he needs you. The thought of that, of him, the man who could have anyone, losing himself for you, it’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating. It’s something you never saw coming, but now you don’t know how to live without it.

You’re melting like putty in his hands, soft and pliant, your body responding to every single touch, every lingering press of his lips.

Jungkook groans softly into your mouth, his hands tightening on your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make your breath hitch. “Fuck, baby."

His voice is low, wrecked, like he’s losing control, like you’re unraveling him piece by piece. He’s always so composed, always the one with the upper hand, cocky, teasing, untouchable.

Now, he’s desperate. Now, he’s pulling you closer, his kisses getting deeper, slower, messier, his need for you spilling into every single movement. Now, he’s breathing your name like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

You whimper softly, hands sliding into his hair, tugging slightly, just to see what he’ll do, just to hear that soft, low groan rumble in his chest again.

His grip on your thighs tightens, his lips moving against yours hungrier now, like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s been waiting for you.

Jungkook’s hands roam your body like he needs to memorize every inch of you, like he can’t believe you’re real. His fingers trail over your waist, gripping your hips before sliding lower, tugging at the hem of your shorts, his touch both reverent and desperate.

"Fuck,," he rasps again, his lips brushing against your throat, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your shorts, feeling the heat of you, his movements slow, teasing.

And then he feels it.

The dampness pooling between your thighs, the evidence of just how much you want him, how much he’s affecting you without even having to try.

Jungkook lets out a groan, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as his fingers tease along the seam of your panties, just barely touching, just enough to make you whimper.

"Shit, baby," he mutters, his hands tightening on your hips, his thumbs tracing slow, teasing circles against your skin. He tilts his head back, his dark eyes locking onto yours, pupils blown with something dangerous. “You’re soaked."

Your face burns, your breath catching in your throat, but Jungkook doesn’t let you shy away. His hands squeeze your thighs, grounding you, keeping you right where he wants you, on top of him, right against him, right where you belong.

"All this for me?" His lips curl into a smirk, but there’s something softer beneath it, something almost in awe, like he can’t believe you want him like this.

You nod, biting your lip, your hands gripping his shoulders as he presses you down against him, letting you feel just how hard he is beneath you.

"God, baby," he groans, his head tilting back, his lip ring catching the dim light as his hands slide over your ass, keeping you flush against him. His voice drops even lower, “You already feel so fucking good."

His fingers dip lower, playing with the waistband of your shorts, teasing, waiting. “Can I take these off?" he asks, his voice softer now, more careful.

The way he asks—so patient, so unlike the cocky playboy everyone else knows—makes your heart pound even harder. Because it’s him. Because it’s you. And because right now, there’s nothing in the world except the heat between you and the way his hands are shaking from how bad he wants you.

Jungkook doesn’t wait. The second you give the smallest nod—silent permission, quiet surrender—he moves.

One moment, you’re perched in his lap, your hands gripping his shoulders, your body still trembling from how badly you want him. The next, you’re on your back, legs spread wide over the plush couch, your pajama shorts and underwear long gone, discarded somewhere neither of you care to find.

Jungkook kneels between your thighs, his big hands gripping them, spreading them wider as he settles himself lower, his dark eyes locked onto the sight of your glistening core.

And fuck, he looks wrecked.

His lips part, a quiet, almost awe-struck groan slipping past them as he takes you in, his tattooed fingers tightening around your thighs. His tongue flicks out, wetting his lips, and you realize he looks hungry.

"Baby," he breathes, his voice thick, reverent, dangerous. He leans in, so close you can feel his breath against your slick folds, his nose barely brushing the inside of your thigh as he exhales a slow, shaky breath. "Look at you."

You whimper, your hips shifting instinctively, your body aching for his touch, for anything, but he doesn’t give it to you. Not yet.

Instead, his hands wander, sliding up your thighs, tracing the soft skin with slow, teasing strokes. His fingers spread you apart, just enough to make you squirm, his eyes locked on the way you glisten under the dim glow of the room.

"So fucking pretty," he mutters, almost to himself, almost like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. His thumbs trace along your inner thighs, inching closer, teasing, torturing.

"Jungkook—" Your voice is a breathless plea, a soft, desperate sound, and his smirk deepens at the way you need him.

"I know, baby," he murmurs, his lips hovering right there, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His fingers press into your thighs, grounding you, holding you open for him. "I got you."

And then, without another word, he leans in. His tongue flicks out, the first slow, deliberate lick making your whole body jerk, your breath catching as a strangled moan slips past your lips. His hands tighten on your thighs, keeping you in place, pinning you down as he devours you, slow and deep and messy

Jungkook is relentless.

The second his tongue continually flicks against you, slow and teasing, a sharp gasp spills from your lips, your fingers flying to his hair on instinct.

He groans, low and deep, like he’s never tasted anything better, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pulls you closer, buries himself between your legs. His tongue moves with purpose, savoring you, teasing you, then faster, filthier.

Your entire body jolts, a choked moan escaping you as you arch off the couch, hands yanking at his hair, but Jungkook doesn’t let up. If anything, he goes harder, tongue working you over, lips sucking, devouring every ounce of wetness you’re giving him.

"Fuck, baby,” he groans against you, his voice wrecked, almost feral, his fingers digging into your thighs. "You taste so good. So sweet, so messy for me."

You can barely breathe, your chest rising and falling in sharp, broken pants. No one has ever done this to you before, no one has ever made you feel like this, so completely overwhelmed, so utterly ruined just by their mouth alone.

"J-jungkook,” Your voice is a trembling plea, your fingers trembling in his hair, but he just smirks, his tongue flicking against your most sensitive spot, making your whole body tremble.

"Too much, baby?" he murmurs, his lips dragging against your skin, but his tone is mocking, almost cruel, because he knows you don’t want him to stop.

His lips wrap around your aching clit, a desperate, filthy pull that makes your legs shake, your back arch, a helpless cry spilling from your lips as pleasure crashes over you, too much, too fast, your vision blurring.

Jungkook moans against you, his hands spreading you wider, holding you there as he drowns in you, his tongue moving sloppier, hungrier, completely insane on the taste of you.

"That's it, baby," he groans, his voice thick with need, with something bordering on obsession. "Give it to me. Let me taste all of you."

You’re gasping, whimpering, unable to handle how good it feels, how intense it is. His tongue keeps working you over, lips sucking, his groans vibrating against your heat, dragging you through wave after wave of unbearable pleasure. You don’t think you’ll ever recover.

Jungkook can feel it, the way your thighs tremble, the way your body arches, the way your breath stutters like you’re teetering on the edge, right there, so fucking close. But he’s not done with you yet.

"Can’t get enough of you," he murmurs against your heat, his tongue flicking one last time before his lips part and, without warning, he slides two fingers in.

Your gasp is sharp, your body clenching around him immediately, and Jungkook groans, his fingers sinking deep, stretching you open as he feels just how tight, how warm you are.

"Fuck," he hisses, pressing his forehead against your inner thigh, his fingers stilling for just a second as his other hand grips your waist, holding you down. "So fucking tight."

You whimper, your hands flying to grip at the couch, your fingers scrambling for something to hold onto as he starts to move, slow at first, deep, deliberate thrusts, letting you feel every inch of his fingers. You look down at him, watch the way his dark hair falls over his face, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

He curls upwards, and you’re certain he’ll have to peel you off his couch tomorrow morning.

"Oh!” The sound escapes you before you can stop it, your body spasming, heat flooding your veins as he finds the spot that makes you see stars.

Jungkook fucking smirks like the little devil he is. And you knew he’d be good, knew he’d be more experienced than you, but you don’t even care as long as he doesn’t stop.

"There it is," he murmurs, his voice low, teasing, dangerous. His fingers work into you harder, faster, his thumb rubbing slow, tight circles against your clit, and you’re losing it, your legs shaking so bad you think you might collapse in on yourself.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he coaxes, his breath hot against your core, his lips right there, teasing, pressing soft, fleeting kisses against your swollen heat between every filthy thrust of his fingers.

You’re barely holding on, your mind spinning, the pleasure too much, but the way he talks to you, the way he touchesyou, the way his fingers move with such perfect precision, has you losing all control.

"I— I can’t, fuck, feels so good—" Your voice is wrecked, barely a whisper, your body fighting between holding on and letting go.

"Yes, you can," Jungkook growls, his pace relentless now, his fingers fucking into you with deep, slick strokes, his thumb rubbing your clit faster, harder. "Be good for me, baby."

He presses his lips to you again, tongue flicking in perfect sync with his fingers, sucking hard, and you break. A choked, helpless cry rips from your throat as pleasure crashes over you, so sharp, so intense, your entire body locking up before you’re shaking, your release hitting you like a tidal wave.

Jungkook moans against you, his fingers not stopping, working you through it, dragging every ounce of pleasure from your trembling body as you come undone beneath him.

Your chest heaves, your fingers weakly clutching at the couch, your skin burning as the aftershocks pulse through you. You can’t even think, can’t even process how good it feels, your whole body humming with warmth, satisfaction, something that makes you dizzy.

And then, Jungkook looks up at you.

His eyes are wild, his lips wet and swollen, his jaw tight as he drinks you in, your blissed-out expression, your shaky limbs, your lips parted as you try to catch your breath.

"Good?" he teases, his voice thick with pride, with something darker beneath it. He presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, watching the way you squirm, the way your cheeks burn as you try to look away.

But he doesn’t let you. His hand grabs your chin, tilting your flushed face toward his, his fingers still teasing you as he whispers, “Bet it feels even better to be inside you."

He stays between your spread legs, watching you like he owns you, like he’s still memorizing the way you look right now, completely spent, your body stretched out along the couch, your chest still rising and falling from the aftermath of what he just did to you.

With a low, deep exhale, he finally sits back on his knees, his hands moving to the waistband of his sweatpants, dragging them down in one smooth motion. His cock springs free, hard and aching, tip flushed and leaking, the very picture of desperation.

You swallow, your throat dry, your lips parting slightly as your wide eyes take him in. Jungkook doesn’t miss it.

"Like what you see, baby?" he murmurs, amusement flickering in his dark gaze as he wraps his tattooed fingers around himself, giving a few slow, deliberate strokes. A shiver runs down his spine, his head tipping back slightly, his breath coming out in a low groan.

Fuck, he’s mesmerizing. The way his muscles flex, the way his chest tightens, the way his lip ring glints as he bites down on his bottom lip. You can’t look away.

And maybe it’s the post-orgasm haze still clouding your mind, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re still so desperate to make it up to him, but before you can stop yourself, your voice comes out, soft and shy, “I can do it."

His eyes snap to yours, his hand stilling around his length as his breath catches, like he can’t believe you just said that, like he wasn’t expecting it from you.

"You wanna touch me, baby?" he asks, voice lower, rougher.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip, heat crawling up your neck as you shift to sit up slightly, your fingers hesitating in your lap before reaching for him.

Jungkook doesn’t make you wait.

He stands up, takes your wrist, guiding you, wrapping your soft fingers around his cock, sucking in a sharp breath the second you touch him.

"Fuck,” he groans, his head falling forward, his hand tightening over yours as he helps you set a rhythm, slow at first, letting you feel him.

You swallow, watching his expression, watching the way his brows furrow, the way his jaw clenches, the way his muscles tense beneath your touch.

"Just like that, baby," he rasps, his voice strained, almost pained from how good it feels. His hand falls away, letting you take over, his head trained on your movements, his lips parting in a moan.

"Shit, you’re so good," he praises, his voice breathless. His fingers dig into his thighs, his stomach tightening as he watches you, his eyes burning in a way that makes your whole body shiver.

"Thought you were so innocent," he murmurs, his voice laced with something almost in awe, his breath coming out in sharp exhales as you continue stroking him, learning him. "And yet, you wanna take care of me like this?"

You nod, your fingers tightening slightly around him. Jungkook groans, his hand flying to your wrist, stilling you for a moment as he pants, “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me."

Your soft hands wrapped around him, your shy little glances up at him, your fingers trembling slightly as you try to please him—he’s never been this affected by anyone before. But he needs more.

With a sharp inhale, he stills your movements, his tattooed fingers wrapping around your wrist, gently pulling you away before he does something reckless like cum in your hand instead of inside you.

"Come here," he rasps, his voice rough, wrecked, his hands guiding you back down against the couch.

Your breath stutters, your body trembling as he hovers over you, his broad frame towering above you, his toned arms caging you in. His dark eyes flicker down, watching the way your chest rises and falls, the way your thighs part instinctively, welcoming him closer.

"You want to?" he murmurs, his voice softer now, more careful but beneath it, there’s still that same hunger and desperation.

You nod, a shiver running through you as you feel the thick, heavy weight of his cock drag through your folds, teasing, spreading your wetness as he positions himself at your entrance.

When he finally, achingly, pushes in, the first inch has you screaming. Your back arches off the couch, your fingers flying to grip his biceps, nails digging into the solid muscle as your body stretches around him, struggling to accommodate his size. “F-fuck, Jungkook!”

Jungkook groans, his head dropping forward, as he feels you, so tight, so warm, your walls squeezing him like you’re not used to this, like you’ve never taken anything like him before.

"Shit,” he grits out, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you in place as he forces himself to stop, his own body trembling from the sheer restraint it takes to keep from slamming into you.

"You’re—" His breath is uneven, his jaw clenching as he forces himself to be still. "You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

Your thighs tremble beneath him, your hands clawing at his arms, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how intense the stretch is, from how full you feel.

"Jungkook,” Your voice is helpless, your chest heaving as you try to adjust, try to take him, but it’s too much, too big, your walls clenching around him so hard he nearly loses it.

"Fuck, I—" He stops, his body shaking as he hovers over you, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath coming out in sharp, uneven pants. "I gotta—fuck, I gotta give you a second, or I’m gonna cum right now."

Jungkook has had experience, more than enough. He’s been wanted, worshiped, pulled into the heat of fleeting moments by women who knew exactly what they were doing. He’s kissed with confidence, touched with certainty, learned every unspoken language of desire and indulgence. He’s seen it all, had it all, lived it all. It’s stupid, really, how easily you unravel him, how the years of experience amount to nothing under the weight of this. Of you.

Your body pulses, your breath coming out in short, desperate whimpers as you struggle to breathe through it, your hands gripping his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him.

Jungkook stares down at you, his expression torn between awe and agony, his cock twitching inside you, begging him to move, but he can’t, not yet.

"Baby,” His voice is strained, his fingers brushing your hair out of your face, his lips pressing against your forehead, trying to soothe you. "Breathe. Let me in, just a little more."

You nod, your body shuddering beneath him, your walls still fluttering around him, so tight it’s driving him insane.

And when he finally, slowly pushes in deeper, you both break.

The second he feels you start to relax around him, your walls fluttering, adjusting, he loses the last shred of control he had left.

"Fuck, sweetheart," his voice is low, guttural, completely wrecked as he pulls out halfway before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt.

The sound that escapes you is filthy, a high-pitched, gasping moan, your body jerking beneath him as the force of his thrust sends shockwaves through you.

He sets the pace, relentless, devastating. The wet, slick sounds of him fucking into you echo through the room, mixing with your choked moans, his ragged, heavy breathing. His cock drags against every sensitive part of you, the lewd slap of skin-on-skin filling the space, so loud it makes your face burn.

"Listen to that, baby," Jungkook groans, his lips hovering over yours, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

“So fucking wet for me,” He grinds deeper, pulling another moan from you, "Making a mess all over my cock."

You can barely breathe, barely think, the pleasure so intense it’s turning your limbs weak, your nails clawing helplessly at his arms, his back, anywhere you can hold onto as he ruins you.

"You hear that?" he murmurs, his lips dragging along your jaw, his hips snapping against yours at a brutal pace. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, angling you just right so he can hit deeper, harder. "That’s all you, baby. That’s this pretty little pussy taking me so well.”

You let out a choked cry, your head tipping back, exposing your throat to him.

"Shit!" he groans, his lips latching onto your neck, sucking, biting, leaving marks he wants you to wear for days. His hand slips between you, fingers pressing against your clit, rubbing in tight, perfect circles.

Your whole body shudders, your walls clenching so tight around him that he hisses, his rhythm stuttering for half a second before he pounds into you harder, pushing you right to the edge.

Before either of you can catch your breath, he pulls out suddenly, completely, leaving you empty, a little gasp escaping your lips at the loss. But before you can even process it, he grabs you, his strong hands flipping you over onto your stomach, guiding your knees up, your body instinctively responding to him.

"Nah, baby," he groans, his voice low as he grips your waist, spreading you out beneath him. "Not done with you yet."

His hands drag down your back, fingers teasing along your spine before gripping your hips, tugging you up slightly, pressing your chest down against the couch cushions.

He slides back in. The stretch is even deeper like this, his cock sinking in at a new angle that has you screaming into the cushion, your fingers clutching the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Jungkook snarls, his head dropping back for a second, the tight heat of you making his entire body shake. "You’re squeezing me so tight.”

His hands grip your hips hard, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he starts to move, his strokes slow, deep, deliberate, making you feel every inch of him, every ridge, every twitch.

"God, baby, could fuck you all day," he groans, his voice thick with something dangerous, something utterly possessive. His palm slides down, pressing between your shoulder blades, pinning you down against the couch. "Taking me so fucking well, so perfect for me."

You can barely breathe, your body so wrecked from how deep he is. You swear you feel him in your stomach. You can hear the obscene mix of your slick and his movements, the wet sounds filling the space between his groans and your helpless little sounds.

"Jungkook,” You choke out his name, your voice muffled against the couch, your body shaking with every relentless thrust. “F-feels so good, please k-keep going,”

"Shh, baby," he coos mockingly, his grip tightening as he snaps his hips forward, dragging another high-pitched cry from you. "Let me take care of you."

His free hand grabs your jaw, turning your head slightly so he can watch your face, his other hand still pressing you down, keeping you in place, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

"Too deep?" he taunts, a smirk in his voice, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watches the way your brows furrow, your lips parting, your body writhing beneath him.

You nod frantically, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps, but your hips still push back into him, still chase the feeling of him splitting you apart.

"That’s my girl," he groans, rewarding you with a rough, slow grind, making sure you feel every second of it. His fingers tighten around your throat, his breath hot against your ear.

His body is trembling, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he slams into you, chasing his release with reckless, desperate thrusts. He’s so close, he can feel it, heat coiling tight in his gut, every nerve in his body burning with the need to let go.

"[Y/N]," he groans, breathless, his fingers digging into your waist as he pounds into you. He’s barely holding on, his control slipping with every second, every pulse of your tight, soaking heat around him.

"Where do you want me to cum, baby?" he grits out, his head dropping forward, his jaw clenching as he fights to hold himself back, to wait for your answer.

And when you give it to him—when you turn your head just slightly, lips parted, voice trembling, breath hitching— “Inside me."

Jungkook snaps. In an instant, he pulls out, his hands gripping your waist as he flips you over, not caring how weak your limbs are, how spent you already look. He needs to see you when he finishes, needs to watch your face, your expression, your body taking it all.

His lips crash against yours, messy, desperate, all tongue and teeth as he slides back in, groaning so loud it vibrates through your entire body. His hands grab your thighs, spreading you wide, holding you open for him as he thrusts into you, deep, perfect, his cock dragging against every sensitive nerve inside you.

"Yeah?” he groans, watching you, his eyes wild, his chest heaving. "You’re gonna let me fill you up, huh? Gonna let me fucking ruin you? God, I’m going to give you kids one day.”

You nod, barely able to speak, your voice coming out as a helpless little beg. "Please.”

Jungkook grunts, his thrusts turning sloppy, erratic, and you can feel the way he’s shaking, the way his cock twitches inside you, so fucking close.

"Can I finish too?" Your voice is so soft, so breathless, so utterly wrecked, and when he looks down, when he sees it—the cream collecting at the base of his cock, the mess of slick covering where you’re both connected, dripping down onto the couch— he’s a goner.

"Yes, baby, fuck, yes. Cum for me,” He babbles out, almost incoherent.

His entire body jolts forward, his grip on your thighs tightening as he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep as his release crashes over him, spilling inside you with a helpless groan. His head tips back, his body shaking, his fingers gripping onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

He feels it, the way your walls pulse around him, milking him, pulling everything from him as your own orgasm rips through you, your thighs trembling, your body convulsing beneath him. There’s nothing but heat and skin and the dizzying rush of pleasure crashing through you both, stealing the air from your lungs.

The room is filled with the filthiest sounds—his breathless groans, your high-pitched cries, the obscene mix of both your releases between your thighs.

He just stares.

"Damn, baby” his voice is barely a whisper, his eyes blown wide, completely wrecked as he watches his cum spill out of you, seeping from between your legs, making an absolute mess of both of you. “So fucking pretty."

Jungkook eventually collapses next to you, his chest still heaving, his body still thrumming with the aftermath of what you just did to each other. His skin is flushed, damp with sweat, his muscles trembling from the sheer intensity of it all. But the second he catches his breath, the second his brain starts working again, he reaches for you.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his body, pressing you flush against his overheated skin. His lips find your shoulder first, soft and lingering, before trailing up the curve of your neck, then your jaw, then your lips.

The kiss is slow, tender, so different from the frantic, desperate ones from earlier. This one is filled with something else, something deeper. His fingers smooth over your back, up your spine, soothing you, keeping you close.

"Hmph," he breathes against your mouth, his voice raw, reverent. His hands roam your body, gentle now, no longer gripping, no longer taking, just feeling, holding. "You okay?"

You nod, still trying to find your voice, still floating in the haze of him. Your body is gone, your limbs weak, but with the way he’s touching you now, with the way he’s holding you, you could stay here forever.

Jungkook hums, pressing another soft, lingering kiss to your temple. "You were so good for me," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, his hand rubbing slow circles into your hip. "Took me so well, baby. My perfect girl."

His words make warmth bloom in your chest, your face heating, your fingers instinctively clutching onto him, like you need to hold onto something real.

You melt into him, bury your face into his neck. You smell the scent of him, musky and sweet and familiar.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your skin, his lips finding your cheek, your jaw, your shoulder. His fingers trail up your spine again, his other hand tangling in your hair, tilting your face up so he can kiss you again. “Don’t even know what you do to me."

You’ve never had a man want you like this before, and you don’t think you’ll ever want anyone else ever again.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The next few days pass in a soft blur of stolen moments: whispers exchanged in the quiet of Jungkook’s living room, fingers brushing absentmindedly over each other’s skin, laughter spilling into the air delicately, something fragile but unbreakable.

You’re not dating, not technically. He hasn’t asked, and you haven’t said anything, and yet…

He still grins when you walk into the room, still pulls you into his side when you sit next to him, still leans in just a little too close whenever he speaks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a low murmur meant just for you.

You let him tangle his fingers through yours when you’re watching a movie together, let him play with the hem of your sweater when he’s feeling restless, let him kiss you, lazy and unhurried, in the middle of a conversation just because he can.

He’s letting you take your time, giving you the space to ease into this, to figure out what it all means.

God, you appreciate it.

Because with Jungkook, there’s no rushing. No expectations. No pressure.

Even though neither of you have said it yet, you know.

There’s a weight of his upcoming race, his comeback race, that lingers between you, unspoken but heavy, pressing against your chest like a storm waiting to break.

You know what it means to him. How much this race matters. How much winning it would mean for his career, for his legacy.

Yet, you can’t shake the fear coiling deep in your stomach, the memory of his last crash seared into your mind like a scar that refuses to fade. The sound of metal colliding, the gasps from the crowd, the way your entire world had tilted on its axis, throwing you into a free fall of panic and helplessness.

You don’t know if you can do that again.

You don’t know if you can sit in the stands, heart in your throat, watching him push himself to the very edge of danger, knowing that one wrong move could take him from you.

He knows. Even before you say anything, even before you have the chance to voice the tangled mess of emotions inside you, Jungkook notices. You catch him watching you when you think he isn’t, his sharp gaze softening whenever he sees the crease between your brows, the way your fingers absentmindedly fidget with the hem of your sleeve, lost in thought.

And then one night, while you’re curled up next to him on the couch, his voice cuts through the quiet. “You’re not gonna come, are you?"

You hesitate for too long, and that’s answer enough.

Jungkook exhales, tipping his head back against the couch, his jaw tightening for just a second before he looks at you again, eyes searching. Not angry. Not upset. Just… knowing.

"Baby," he says, voice quieter now, like he’s picking apart every thought racing through your head, "Talk to me."

You swallow, staring down at your lap. "I just— I don’t know if I can watch."

He doesn’t speak, waiting.

"Last time…" You inhale sharply, voice barely above a whisper. "Last time, I thought I lost you, Jungkook."

His eyes darken, his features softening in a way that makes your chest tighten.

"I know."

"You don’t," you murmur. "You don’t know what that felt like. Watching you crash. Not knowing if you were okay. Having to stand there, completely helpless, while everyone else ran to you."

Jungkook’s jaw flexes, his hands clenching into loose fists before he lets out a slow, measured breath.

"I get why you’re scared," he finally says. "But I need you there. I need you in my corner."

His words send a sharp pang through your chest, and when you glance up, you find him watching you so intently, like he’s trying to anchor you to him, like he’s trying to make you feel how much he means it.

"I know how dangerous it is," he continues, softer now. "I know what you’re afraid of. But I also know that when I look up from that track, and I see you there, nothing else matters. I race better when you’re there. I race smarter when you’re there."

Your throat tightens.

"You’re my good luck charm."

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Jungkook reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “Please."

And how the hell are you supposed to say no to that?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

(pause.. authors note.. turn on ‘the alchemy’ by taylor swift for this part. thank me later.)

The energy is electric, the kind of palpable excitement that sits thick in the air, buzzing through the massive crowd gathered around the track.

Engines roar in the distance, mechanics make last-minute adjustments, reporters weave through the pit area with cameras flashing, and yet, none of it matters.

Because all eyes are on you. Or rather, on Jungkook, and the way he doesn’t even try to hide it anymore.

The moment he spots you, draped in his jacket, his VIP lanyard with his name hanging around your neck like a permanent claim, something flickers in his expression. Something proud, you think.

Then he’s walking straight toward you, completely ignoring the cameras, the crew, the other drivers waiting for pre-race interviews.

His manager clears his throat. “Uh, you have press, Jungkook.”

Jungkook doesn’t even acknowledge it. He just reaches for you, hands settling firmly on your waist, his grip warm, grounding, and before you can even react, he kisses you. Loud. Unapologetic. Completely and utterly certain.

You’re melting into him, hands gripping his racing suit, your heart hammering as his lips move against yours, slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to brand you into him before the race even begins.

When he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes over your cheek, a cocky little grin stretching across his face. “You look so fucking good in my jacket. Can’t wait to get home and rip it off you.”

You swallow, dazed, heat blooming across your skin. “You should focus on the race.”

“I am,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “I’m gonna be thinking of you the whole time though.”

And then, just like that, he’s gone, disappearing into the pit area, leaving you completely breathless, your lips tingling, your heart somewhere on the track with him already.

You hear a low whistle behind you.

One of his crew members, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Yeah, we’re just gonna start calling you his girlfriend now.”

You stammer. “I—I’m not—”

“Sure,” his manager cuts in, grinning, arms folded across his chest. “And I’m an astronaut.”

Laughter ripples through the pit crew, but before you can come up with some kind of defense, the announcement blares over the loudspeakers.

You’re with his crew, standing in the VIP pit box, his manager beside you, engineers monitoring real-time data, the pit crew ready for anything.

You’re also clutching onto his manager’s arm like your life depends on it.

“Relax,” he mutters, chuckling under his breath. “You survived the last one.”

You exhale sharply. “That was before I knew how dangerous this actually is.”

His manager glances at you. “You’ve been paying attention, huh?”

You don’t respond, eyes locked onto the massive screen displaying the race track, the live coverage cutting between Jungkook’s car, the cockpit camera, the overhead shots.

Before you can prepare yourself for the impact, the signal goes off. The engines roar to life. And Jungkook is off.

Your heart jumps into your throat as his car flies forward, cutting into position effortlessly.

He’s fast—you always knew that. But watching him like this, seeing him maneuver through the chaos of the starting lap, weaving between other drivers with a confidence that borders on reckless, it’s something else entirely.

“You know he likes to push aggressive in the first few laps, right?” The voice beside you startles you. His engineer, watching the data on the monitor, tapping his chin in thought.

You nod. Of course you know.

Jungkook’s racing style isn’t just speed. It’s strategy, it’s unpredictability, it’s sheer talent that makes him one of the most feared competitors on the track.

Still, something feels off.

You bite your lip, eyes narrowing at the positioning of the cars ahead. The driver in third place is blocking the inside lane, forcing Jungkook to take a riskier approach.

If he goes outside, he’ll lose too much time.

But if he waits too long, he’ll lose the gap entirely.

You can’t stop yourself. “He’s not gonna make that pass on the outside.”

The engineer raises a brow, surprised.

His manager glances at you, amused. “Yeah?”

You nod, suddenly certain. “He needs to bait him into thinking he’s going wide, then cut inside at the last second. It’s the only way he’s getting past clean.”

The pit crew stares at you like you just grew a second head.

His manager laughs under his breath. “Damn. She really is his girl.”

And then, as if he heard you through the screen, Jungkook makes the move.

The driver in third takes the bait, moving to cover the outside and Jungkook cuts inside, passing clean, just like you said.

You exhale hard, your entire body untensing at once.

“Holy shit,” one of the crew members mutters, blinking at you. “You actually know your stuff.”

But you don’t respond, because you can’t take your eyes off the track, can’t take your eyes off him.

Jungkook is still in it, still pushing, still dominating the race, still looking absolutely unstoppable. For the first time since you got here, since you stepped into his world you finally realize: you’re not just watching anymore. You’re a part of this now.

The final lap feels like an eternity.

Your fingers are clenched so tight around Jungkook’s manager’s arm that you’re sure you’ve cut off circulation, but you can’t bring yourself to let go. Your heart is slamming against your ribs, your breath coming in shallow bursts as the cars blur past the final turn.

He’s in first place but barely.

The driver behind him is closing in fast, their front wing nearly grazing Jungkook’s rear tire, and it’s too close, too reckless, too much.

Your nails dig into your palms, your legs swaying restlessly. You can’t stand still, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but watch, helpless and desperate, as he flies toward the finish line.

The crowd is screaming, his crew is yelling stats into the comms, but it’s all just noise, buzzing around the only thing that matters: him.

"Come on, Jungkook," you whisper under your breath, hands tightening around the edge of your jacket. "Come on, come on, come on—"

The checkered flag waves.

The moment his car crosses the finish line, the world tilts, the tension shatters, and your breath finally, finally releases.

You don’t even realize you’re grinning, shaking, nearly collapsing from the sheer relief and overwhelming joy of it all.

The stadium erupts the second Jungkook’s car flies across the finish line.

The sound is deafening—a rush of cheers, of voices screaming his name, of reporters scrambling to capture the moment. Confetti bursts into the air, flickering under the bright stadium lights like a million tiny stars. His pit crew is going wild, throwing their arms up, chanting, celebrating the biggest win of his career.

But Jungkook doesn’t stop for any of it.

He barely lets the car roll to a stop before he’s unbuckling, pulling his helmet off, his eyes already searching.

He sees you.

Standing in the VIP pit area, his jacket still wrapped around your shoulders. Suddenly, everything else fades.

His team? The cameras? The press waiting to get their headline? None of it matters.

All he can think about is you.

So, he runs. Straight past his team, straight past the cameras, straight past the screaming reporters, straight to you.

Before you can even say congratulations, before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, you’re in his arms.

He lifts you clean off your feet, arms tight around your waist, his laugh breathless against your cheek, giddy, boyish, unfiltered joy.

Then he kisses you. Right there, in front of thousands of people. In front of the flashing cameras, in front of the roaring crowd, in front of his crew and the entire racing world. He kisses you like there’s no one else but you and him.

It’s not careful. It’s not slow. It’s pure feeling, pure adrenaline, pure Jungkook.

He kisses you like he’s been waiting his whole life to do it, like he couldn’t have gone another second without making sure you knew.

Your fingers clutch at his racing suit, your heart pounding harder than it did during the race itself, your body sinking into his like it was meant to be here, like it’s the only place you’ll ever belong.

Somewhere in the background, you hear the cheers get even louder, hear the reporters frantically calling his name, hear the cameras capturing every second of this moment.

But none of it touches you.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, lips swollen, his forehead dropping against yours as he grins, bright, wide, unstoppable. “Told you I needed my good luck charm."

You let out a shaky breath, laughing softly, hands still gripping his suit. Still holding onto him like you’re afraid to let go. “Jungkook, that was in front of—"

"All of them?" He grins shamelessly, still so out of breath. "Yeah, I know."

You giggle, pressing your forehead against his chest for a second. "Oh my god."

"What?" His voice is teasing, his fingers toying with the hem of his own jacket wrapped around you. "You didn’t like it?"

You open your mouth, ready to fight him on it, ready to pretend like you weren’t just completely, devastatingly ruined by that kiss but the words don’t come.

Because when you look at him, really look at him, you realize you’re done pretending. Suddenly, it’s not scary anymore. Suddenly, it’s the easiest thing in the world.

You swallow. "So am I your girl now?”

His breath halts, his fingers tighten just slightly on your waist, and for the briefest second, you see it. The relief. The realization. The pure, undeniable certainty that he’s got the girl.

He exhales, grinning so wide it could split his face in half, and tugs you in for another kiss, this time softer, slower, like he’s sealing the moment between just the two of you.

"You always were."

And as the celebrations explode around you, as the cameras flash, as his crew cheers, as Jungkook beams like he just won something even bigger than this race, you know, deep in your chest, in your bones, in every fiber of your being, there is no escaping this man.

You realize something with absolute certainty. This was never just about luck. It was always meant to be him.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

extra extra note!

i wanted to thank you all again for reading this story <3 this OC means so much to me. with that being said, i never want to leave you guys hanging, so i’ll be doing 3-4 epilogue drabbles/blurbs based off your guys’ requests (bc it’s no fun if im just doing whatever i please, duhh)

send in some ideas (smut, fluff, even some angst) of what you would want to see as epilogue blurbs and I’ll choose the ones that inspire me :-) click here to send em in! [THIS IS NOW CLOSED, THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVELY REQUESTS]

love you all… catch ya on the next fic <3

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

taglist ; @yooniepot @bookstoread199 @pipipipiiiii @someonegoood @vintagemoonsstuff @kittisuuuuu @ttanniett @loonareads @jincapableoflove @jkxlvrr @taekrve @jenniebyrubies @senaqsstuff @somisarchive @somehowukook @mysjammy @busanbby-jjk @mimi1097 @mikrokosmosellen @indyuhhhhh @vantelover1306 @haru-jiminn @sky-23s-world @minimoninini @bighitfics

@outofworldvy @smartkive @dontcallmeelle @beomluvrr @tatamicc @seokout @ashslight @avawants2havefun @bjoriis @jjeonjjk7 @mar-lo-pap @parkinglot-nights @coletaehyung @mellyyyyyyx @magicalnachocreator @royalguk

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts #bts army #bts jungkook #bts fanfic #bts x reader

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soaps-mohawk · 1 year ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful

Summary: You have a long weekend that ends rather unexpectedly. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, some brief violence at the end.

A/N: I'm in a bit of a crisis so you're getting a bonus chapter this week. It's a beefy one and I wrote like 90% of it yesterday, just had the brain sludge by the time I was close to finishing and decided to rest before I finished and edited. Things are starting to get a big suggestive here, so as a reminder, this fic will have NSFW content in later chapters so please do not interact with it if you are under 18. I'd hate to have to block you.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“How are you settling in?”

“Fine.” You shrug.

“Any instinct to nest at all?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“That’s fine.” Dr. Keller says, writing something down. “It’s only been just over a week. Have you started kneeling for Captain Price yet?”

You shake your head again. “No.”

Dr. Keller tilts her head. “Why not?”

You shrug again. “He hasn’t brought it up.”

“Is that something you’d like to start doing?”

Her question catches you off guard again. You’re not used to being asked what you want, afterall you’re an omega. That’s not important. You’re here to serve. To do as you’re told. You remember watching your mother kneel for your father while he watched TV, her dazed, glazed over eyes staring at nothing as he almost seemed to hypnotize her into the shell of a perfect omega. It was your first taste of truly how much power alphas could hold over omegas. One hand on the back of your neck and it’s over.

“I...I don’t know.” You say, picking at your sleeve.

“You’re allowed to want things too.” Dr. Keller leans forward just slightly, giving you a smile. “I highly doubt Captain Price will make much of a fuss if you ask for something you need. He cares about you. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here alone.” She tilts her head at you, watching you pick at your sleeve. “Is there anything you want or maybe need that you haven’t asked for?”

Softer blankets. A fluffier pillow. Different body wash and shampoo. New clothes. A picture or a poster or something to make your room seem less clinical. Your instincts to finally start kicking in. Price to want you as much as he’s supposed to. Ghost to like you. To go back in time and let Soap kiss you.

To go back in time and never present as an omega.

“No.” You finally answer, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

Dr. Keller stares at you for a long moment. You avoid her gaze, picking at the seam of your sleeve. “I know you’re going to get tired of me saying this, but it’s important that you understand that this is a safe space for you. Everything that we discuss, everything that you say in here stays between you and me. Doctor-patient confidentiality is something I firmly believe in, even when it comes to alpha/omega relationships. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You say quietly, still avoiding her gaze.

She continues to stare at you for a moment before she leans back on the couch again, shuffling some papers around. “The two betas, Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant MacTavish. How are you getting along with them?” She continues with her questions.

“Fine.” You lean back in your chair, hoping it might swallow you whole. “They’re easiest to get along with.”

Dr. Keller nods. “Good. I’m a strong advocate for organic pack bonding. Helps avoid any dynamic struggles or false instincts down the line. How are you sleeping?”

“Fine I guess.” You shrug. “I nap a lot.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Omegas need a lot of sleep and I can imagine adjusting to a new schedule has been rough.” Dr. Keller moves the papers to the couch next to her, looking up at you. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

You hesitate, pulling at the seam of your sleeve. It’s beginning to unravel a bit from your nervous picking. You’ll have to fix it. Dr. Keller is right, though. You could just ask for a new one. Price had told you they had a budget for your needs, plus they do get paid well. Anything you needed, they would gladly get for you.

You just have to ask.

It’s the asking that you’re not sure you can do. It feels strange to ask anything of your new pack. They’re supposed to be the ones needing things from you. If Soap had wanted to kiss you, he could have. Instead he left it up to you. He let you decide. You wonder if Price’s hesitation to move forward has been because he’s waiting on you.

They’re all waiting on you, except maybe Ghost. They’re waiting on you to make the first moves, on you to set the pieces on the board. What is the first move? How do you set the pieces? Did you even need to? Would they fall into place organically if you just left them alone? Or would the tension continue to build up, would you continue to affect them until it became too much and the pressure causes everything to blow?

“I’m affecting them.” You say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Dr. Keller tilts her head as she stares at you. “What do you mean?”

“They’re soldiers. They’re good soldiers with years and years of training, that’s why they're here. But...but I’m changing that. I asked Price if I could go with them and watch them run a training course cause I read in a book that I should get to know them and the things they like and so I was just curious what they do during the day when I’m not with them. He let me watch and he told me their top speeds running the training course but...none of them met those times with me there.”

You take a deep breath, the words pouring out of you easily now. You feel as if you’re not even thinking of them, not even measuring them or using caution as you normally would in any conversation. They’re slipping out from somewhere deep inside and now that you’ve opened that dam, you can’t stop it.

“Price made them run through it five times and they still couldn’t match their top speeds. He said it was a good thing that they figured that out, that they need to know how I’m affecting them and how to adjust to me. And every time they ran through it, I couldn’t stop thinking about...”

You take another breath, the air catching in your lungs. Your fingers are shaking, your body sinking deeper and deeper into the chair, almost as if you’re trying to get it to swallow you whole. As if the chair might wrap its arms around you and pull you into its softness and keep you there until you can’t breathe and it suffocates you.

“What if it was me? What if they were having to rescue me? I know that’s a risk, a low one, but it’s still a risk. The CIA and Kate warned me that I could become a target if the wrong person found out about me. That’s why I can’t know anything about what they do because that puts me at more of a risk, and I could be a threat to them and the entire world if something got out that wasn’t supposed to.”

You’re breathing heavily as the words finally come to a stop. Dr. Keller’s eyes are shining with sympathy as she stares at you. This is the most you’ve ever opened up to her, the most words you feel you’ve ever spoken to her in the two times now that you’ve met.

It feels good. It feels really good to voice your thoughts and your fears to someone on the outside, someone you can trust won’t tell anyone. You couldn’t voice these fears to your pack. They’re used to this kind of thing. They live with the knowledge they could die at any point, that any mission might be their last. How many lives have they seen lost, how many close calls have they had? You’ve seen scars already on arms, hands, faces. How many others are hidden where you can’t see?

How many scars do they have inside, too?

“I want you to know that your fears are very valid.” Dr. Keller says, her voice soft. “Being involved in the military comes with a lot of risks, and then you get to places like this and those risks only get greater and greater. I can’t promise you that something like that won’t ever happen, because we have no way of knowing. The risk is not zero for a reason.”

Dr. Keller stands from the couch, moving to the chair next to you. The calming beta scent washes over you, and you know you have to be stinking up the room. She turns the chair slightly to face you, leaning forward onto her knees. You can see the imprints on the sides of her nose from where she’d been wearing glasses earlier.

“That risk is also only low for a reason. Your identity has been well hidden, just like those of your pack’s. You’re on a well protected and secure military base. This place is a black square on Google Maps. I know, I tried looking it up when I found out where I was being assigned.” She reaches out, squeezing your arm gently. “And I highly doubt your pack would ever let anything happen to you. Packs are highly protective over their omegas. Even bad alphas can’t fight that instinct when their pack is threatened. Your pack would quite literally go to war for you.”

She is right, you know she is. Yet that fear continues to wiggle at the back of your mind. You know they’d never let anything happen to you, but they’re going to start leaving soon. What if something happens while they’re not here? Who will help you then? The other soldiers? The betas that stare and the alphas that catcall you?

“I guess you’re right.” You say, continuing to pick at your sleeve. At this rate, by the time your heat starts, you’ll have unraveled the whole sweatshirt.

The buzz of your phone on your nightstand pulls you from your half asleep state. Your book is on the floor, having dropped from your hands and slid off your bed as you drifted off. Your lamp is still on, casting a warm glow around your room. You prefer the softer light compared to the fluorescent overhead, as most omegas do. There’s something too clinical and sterile about fluorescents.

You grab your phone, pushing yourself up onto your elbow as you try to blink the sleepiness away. It’s not terribly late, but you’ve been feeling the exhaustion all day since your conversation with Dr. Keller.

“Be ready by 0500 tomorrow. Wear something meant for the outdoors.”

It’s a text from Price, your brow furrowing as you read it over. Five in the morning on a Saturday? That’s the earliest you’ve had to get up since your arrival on base. And wear something meant for the outdoors? You can only imagine what he has planned for the day you had been planning on spending sleeping.

You make a quiet noise of indignation as you text back in confirmation, setting an alarm so you can be ready by 5 am. Not up by 5 am, ready by 5 am. You have half a mind to call him, or to text back asking why he feels you need to be up before the sun. You know that’s the normal time they begin their mornings during the week, usually when you hear them up and moving around, getting ready to go work out. That’s usually when you roll over and go back to sleep for another hour and a half before your own alarm gets you up for breakfast.

You pout a little as you set your phone back on your nightstand, reaching down to grab your book and set it next to your phone. You lay back down on your bed, turning off your lamp and bathing the room in darkness. Well, it’s not totally dark. The light from the lamp outside shines in your window, casting cold shadows across the walls and floor. You’ve never been a fan of total darkness. You’d grown used to having some light in the room at The Institute. One of your roommates had insisted on having a nightlight, and there were many nights you were grateful for it as you laid awake at the mercy of your racing mind.

A nightlight.

You add it to the mental list of things you want, but you’ll never feel brave enough to ask for.

Your alarm rings too early in the morning, your hand lifting to silence it quickly. 4:30 am doesn’t feel like a real time as you rise in darkness, hand fumbling for the switch to your lamp. You glare into the dimly lit room, trying to blink the sleepiness from your eyes. How desperately you want to curl back up under the blankets and sleep until someone knocks on the door to check on you because you’ve slept so long into the day.

You don’t doubt Price will knock in about 30 minutes to get you up. He’ll be disappointed if you ignore him, you think. He wouldn’t punish you if you went against his wishes, would he?

You don’t know that.

You haven’t even thought to push that boundary, nor have you discussed it. You don’t want to. You’re a good omega.

You’re a good omega.

You repeat it over and over as you get yourself ready, splashing cold water on your face to wake yourself up. You silently thank Kate as you pull on a pair of cargo pants and hiking boots, assuming that’s what Price means by “something meant for the outdoors.” Had she bought the items in anticipation of something like this happening? You are on a military base. You should have expected you’d be pulled into something like this eventually.

You’re debating on a jacket by the time the knock comes, right at 5 am. You wonder how long Price has been standing in the hallway, or if he’s perfected arriving right on the dot after years of expected punctuality. You decide on the jacket after checking the weather, slipping it on as you open the door. He hadn’t mentioned needing anything, not that you own any sort of supplies for the outdoors anyway.

He doesn’t say anything as you open the door, instead motioning with his head to follow. You quietly close your door, expecting the others to be waiting for you, but their doors are all closed and they’re nowhere to be seen. You feel slightly nervous as you follow Price out into the cold morning air, glad you decided on the jacket as your breath steams from your lips.

Price is dressed in his usual boots and cargo pants with a cargo jacket and a beanie instead of a bucket hat. There’s two packs leaning against the side of the building, Price grabbing one and approaching you.

“What are we doing?” You ask quietly as he helps you put on the backpack, buckling it across your chest.

“Going for a hike.” He says, putting on the other backpack.

“Why?” You ask as he turns on a flashlight, handing it to you before turning on another one for himself.

“I’ll explain when we get there.” He says simply, motioning for you to follow him.

You hesitate for half a moment. A hike in the dark? The base is surrounded by forest, but you sometimes forget due to the sprawling nature of the buildings, and your usual ventures outside the barracks being to either the mess or the medical center, all of which were central on the base.

Why does he feel the need to hike in the dark? Surely it’s more dangerous, especially for someone not quite so physically inclined like you. If he wanted to go on a hike, why hadn’t he just said that to begin with? Maybe he would have, had you asked why last night instead of just immediately agreeing.

Going into the woods alone in the dark with an alpha you barely know.

Anxiety twists in your stomach for a moment before you force your feet forward, walking fast to catch up to him. He leads you down one of the roads on base, your boots crunching as the ground changes from asphalt to gravel. Your anxiety doesn’t lessen any as the trees loom high above you in the darkness, the forest like a black void before you.

Your brain thinks up all the land predators that might exist in England. Do they have bears? You’ve seen Brave, but that’s in Scotland. What about big cats like cougars or mountain lions? Are there racoons in England?

You’re on a military base, you think. Surely they have means to keep out large predators that might be dangerous.

Your pack won’t let anything happen to you.

Dr. Keller’s words float through your mind as you follow Price through the underbrush and into the trees. You’re not following any path, at least that you can see, though your experiences in the outdoors have been very limited since you left home. Your dad liked to camp and hike, and often you and your siblings were subjected to his weekend and holiday trips into the wilderness.

You missed them in the early days at the Institute. You missed a lot of things back then.

“What’s eating you back there?” Price asks as you weave through trees and underbrush.

“There’s nothing...dangerous out here...is there, sir?” You ask, narrowly avoiding taking a branch to the face. “Bears or mountain lions?”

Price chuckles. “The worst thing you might find is a stray badger or a snake that got through the fence somehow.”

“Oh.” You say, shining the flashlight around you. “That’s good.”

Price stops, turning to face you. “You’re fretting.”

“Well, we’re in the woods in the dark at an ungodly hour and you won’t tell me why, sir.” You pout.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, staring down at you with a hard look in his eyes.

You stare up at him, your grip tightening on the flashlight in your hand. “Should I trust you?”

He straightens up a bit, the corner of his lips twitching. “That’s something you have to decide.” He turns back around, starting to walk again. “All I can do is my best to try and prove myself to you. In the end, you’re the one that decides if I’m trustworthy or not.”

You’ve never thought of it that way. He could do everything in his power to get you to trust him, but in the end it is your decision. He hasn’t proven you wrong yet, but then again...it’s only been a week. You’ve known him for a week and you’re following him through the woods alone in the dark.

Your brothers would have a fit if they saw you right now.

“Do you trust me?” You find yourself asking as you continue to trek through the woods, narrowly avoiding hurting yourself on various occasions.

“You haven’t given me reason not to.” He answers, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder. “I’d prefer it stayed that way.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, sir. I hardly think I’m much of a threat on any term. Well, at least I don’t think I am. Ghost seems to disagree.”

Price lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head. “Simon...Simon is a unique case. He’s good at his job, but that makes it hard for him to succeed in other areas. I’m sure Johnny has told you how much Simon couldn’t stand him at first. Now look at them.” He chuckles warmly, almost fondly. “He only sees you as a threat in your nature.”

You frown, glancing up at the sky. It’s beginning to turn grey with dusk, the trees seeming to come alive around you in the dim light. “What do you mean by that, sir?”

“You’re an omega. To bond with an omega, there is a degree of vulnerability required by the alpha. Being around omegas requires an openness that can be frightening if you’re not used to it.” He explains. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Simon isn’t the most open man.”

You snort quietly. “Hadn’t noticed, sir.”

Price chuckles at your answer. “You’re threatening to him, because you’re a challenge. Give him time. This entire situation is an adjustment for all of us, just as I’m sure it is for you too.”

You don’t know how to respond to that statement. It is an adjustment. Joining any pack was, but a pack like this...a pack that has you tramping through the woods at 6 am for a reason you don’t even know yet is a major adjustment.

Price stops after the sun has come up, taking a moment next to an outcropping of rocks. He clips your flashlight to your bag before unzipping it, passing you a bottle of water. You take it gladly, your mouth feeling dry after walking for so long.

“How much further?” You ask as he drinks his own water.

“Quite a ways.” He answers.

“Can I know why we’re doing this yet?” You ask as he zips your water back into your backpack.

“Not yet.” He says, continuing onward.

You let out an exasperated sigh, but follow him anyway. You don’t have much of a choice.

Your legs are beginning to get tired, and you’re starting to feel a bit hungry. You’re not sure if you should say anything, or if he’d even stop. You assume he’s packed food, or at least you hope so. You’re going to get grumpy if you’re traversing all over the forest for hours with nothing to eat.

Price slows his pace a bit as you approach what you think is a clearing. You can see a break in the trees ahead, the sun coming through brighter here. You’re sore and tired, your phone telling you you’ve been walking for just over two hours.

How big is this base?

You break through the treeline, finding a small clearing with what looks like a fire watch tower in the middle of it. It’s not what you were expecting, the many scenarios of why you had been dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour and forced to hike through the woods you’ve been thinking up the last two hours, did not end quite like this. You stare up at the tower, your head tilting back to take it in.

“Not scared of heights, are you?” Price asks, standing beside you.

“Maybe.” You answer, eyeing the staircase winding around it to get to the top.

“Come on.” He says, nudging you forward gently. “Up the stairs.”

The last thing you want to do after walking for two hours is climb a never ending staircase, but you don’t think you have much of a choice. Perhaps you can finally sit once you get to the top, and maybe you’ll even get to eat.

Price follows behind you as you take the steps, climbing slowly. Your legs are screaming, your feet aching in your boots. You wouldn’t be surprised if they’re bleeding a little, or if you wind up with blisters. You’re breathing heavily by the time you get to the top, sweat beading on your brow. Price doesn’t even seem winded behind you, and you’re sure he could have jogged up the steps if he wanted to.

The top of the tower is mostly empty except for a small table and two chairs. There’s no windows, the tower open between the railing and the roof. Price sets his bag on the table, unzipping it. You sink into one of the chairs, letting your bag drop to the floor.

“Can I know why we’re here now?” You ask him.

“Drink some water and take a breath first.” He says, pulling a couple packets out of his bag. MRE’s.

You dig your bottle out of your bag, taking note of the other contents inside. A few snack bars, a couple MRE’s of your own, another unopened bottle of water, and a book. There’s things in the other pockets but you don’t bother looking, guzzling down more water.

You stand from your chair, your legs almost buckling in protest as Price gets the MRE’s cooking. You lean against the railing, looking down over the forest that stretches out as far as you can see below.

“Can I know now?” You ask, knowing there has to be a good reason for him to bring you out here.

“A training exercise.” He says finally.

“A training exercise?” You frown, turning to look at him over your shoulder. It wasn’t a training exercise for you, was it?

“Sometimes when we get a specific target on a mission, the only thing we have to go off of is a general location and a scent.” He explains. “We have to be able to track that scent effectively, sometimes for miles. We run training exercises out here to test their ability to track scents to hunt down a target.”

You stare at the sprawling woods, beginning to understand. “So, they’re hunting a scent that will lead them here?”

Price chuckles lowly, his hands coming to rest on the railing on either side of you. Your stomach flutters as he leans in close, his scent strong in your nose as his breath fans your ear. “Technically, they’re hunting you.”

Your knuckles go white as they grip the railing, your blood pulsing in your veins. You’re well aware that some alphas like to hunt their omegas. There’s some primal urge deep within your brains to chase and be chased. You’re well aware of how it usually ends, the thought making your stomach clench.

“You gave me the idea.” Price says, the warmth of his body radiating through your jacket. “When you asked to watch them train, I saw how you affected them, I thought...maybe you can be useful for their training afterall.”

“Do they...do they know it’s me?” You ask as he steps back from you. You fight the urge to whine at the loss of proximity.

“They do now.” He says with a smirk. “They’ve already started, so if they can follow your scent successfully, then they’ll be here in about an hour.” He says, looking at his watch.

You frown a little. “But...we walked for two hours.”

He smiles a little, pointing to a break in the trees below you hadn’t noticed until now. “That trailhead is a 20 minute hike back to base.”

Your frown deepens. “But-”

“We weren’t walking in a straight line.” He explains. “We doubled back and recrossed the trail several times to try and confuse them, just as someone running from them would do.” He passes you one of the MRE’s. “That’s what I want you to do, if it ever comes to it. You don’t fight unless you have no other choice. You always try to run first.”

“Yes, sir.” You say, sitting down again. You don’t think you’d do much damage fighting anyway, but you don’t tell him that.

You open the package, peeking at the contents. Some sort of potato hash, you think, but you don’t really care. You’re so hungry you’ll gladly eat the mystery re-hydrated food. Price sinks into the other chair with a quiet sigh, digging into the food. It’s quiet out in the woods, the only other sound besides the two of you the sounds of birds.

You’ve always loved the woods, the quiet serenity of such isolation. You could imagine Price living in a log cabin miles from civilization, with animals and his own garden, happily living in quiet peace away from the stresses of life and war. You blame the fluttering in your stomach on the lingering thoughts of a chase, of a hunt. The thought of running, trying to evade soldiers who train to hunt others by their scents has goosebumps forming on your skin.

They’re not from the cold either.

The sun has disappeared behind clouds, the grey weather of England quickly becoming normal to you. You haven’t seen the sun much since you landed in London two weeks ago, and you’re sure you’re not going to see much of it for quite a long while.

“What’s got you all twitchy over there?” Price asks, breaking the silence.

You turn to look at him, your mouth open a bit in surprise. “How can you tell?”

“I’ve been trained to notice small details, sweetheart.” He says, grinning at you. “Your fingers always get fidgety first. Like you’re looking for something to do with them. Usually they disappear beneath your sleeves, or you start picking at your clothes. Your scent changes too. Subtly, but still noticeable.”

Oh god. You wince a little bit. He can still smell you, even outdoors in an open area.

“Your eyes start to move, looking all over the place, like you’re searching for something, or trying not to stare at one place too long.” He continues, making you want to sink deeper and deeper into the chair until you disappear. Of course he can read you like a book. They all probably can. “Your breathing always picks up, fast enough it’s noticeable if you’re paying attention. It’s easy to set you off too, sweet little thing.”

Warmth floods your face at his words and his stare, the back of your neck prickling. You meet his gaze across the table, the look in his eyes making you feel like you want to crawl under the table and hide. You hate that he can read you so easily. You won’t be able to hide anything from him.

He probably knows you already have.

You continue to hold his gaze, not backing down despite the intense tickling at the back of your neck. Touch alphas like a challenge, you repeat it over and over in your head.

Don’t back down.

A quiet growl rumbles through his chest, a shiver shooting down your spine so violently it nearly steals your breath. You fight the urge to bear your throat to him in submission, your head tilting back just slightly as your eyes squeeze closed. You’re panting, warmth pooling in your stomach as he chuckles lowly. He’s won, he knows it. You were never going to win. Nature was set against you. Your nature is to submit to him.

“Innocent little thing, aren’t ya?” He says, pulling a cigar from one of his pockets.

You know he smokes, you know they all do. You’ve smelled it on them many times, and it was to be expected. Your father hadn’t started until after he joined the Marines. Your mother hated it. “Dirty habit.” She always whispered as she smelled his uniform and the laundry he brought home from deployment.

He could have had worse ones, you always thought.

You can’t help but watch his lips curl around the cigar, the scent of tobacco permeating the air. His eyes are still on you, your own lips tingling a bit. You think back to how close you had been with Soap, inches from having your first real kiss. You regret it a bit now, not letting him kiss you. He wouldn’t have known he was your first, except perhaps by your awkwardness.

You wonder how many times they’ve all been kissed. You wonder how many times they've kissed each other. You wonder how many barrack bunnies Price has been with, how many other omegas he’s been with. You can’t imagine Ghost being one for barrack bunnies, but then your mind sinks somewhere deeper. Ghost in his mask with an omega bent over the side of his bed, his hand wrapped around the back of their neck...

Another shiver runs down your spine, your lower body beginning to pulse in time with your heart.

“What’s going through that head of yours?” Price asks, still staring at you.

“Soap almost kissed me a couple days ago.” You admit, not trusting yourself not to admit to the other things you’re thinking about.

Price’s brows lift in surprise. “Did you not want him to?”

Want. There’s that word again. You keep hearing it, but you’re not entirely sure what it means anymore. He’s asking to be sure that Soap didn’t force you into anything, even though you can’t imagine the beta doing such a thing. Betas usually weren’t aggressive without good reason, not like alphas.

“Well...no, that’s not it...” You say, your face burning as you begin to regret your choice of topic. “I...I haven’t kissed anyone before...well, not like a real kiss. At The Institute, there was this omega, she was...progressive. Nothing they tried could break her of that and she got into the heads of a few other omegas. One of my bunkmates decided she didn’t want an alpha to be her first kiss, so...I volunteered.”

Price continues to stare at you, a dark look in his eyes. You know some alphas like to watch omegas together. You’ve seen it in movies, things your brothers would put on when they were babysitting, things that would have gotten them hit over the head if your father found out.

“Is that so?” He finally says, flicking some of the ash from the end of his cigar. “Not even a real kiss before you presented?”

You shake your head. “No. I was...the weird kid in school. Most people considered it social suicide to be around me.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. “I bet quite a few of them are kicking themselves now.”

“Why didn’t you want Soap to kiss you?” He asks, concern lacing his voice. He’s still wondering if he needs to have a long chat with the young Sergeant, or perhaps take other action.

“Well...it wasn’t so much that I didn’t want it.” You say. “I just...thought you might be upset...if you weren’t my first...” You swallow nervously at his stare. “Since you’re pack alpha...you have the right to claim-”

“I wouldn’t care.” He cuts you off, almost as if he’s uncomfortable with the idea of him having all the rights to claim you. As if he was uncomfortable with the idea of holding a claim over someone else. “If you want your first kiss to be with one of the others, then you shouldn’t keep yourself from what you want.”

His words echo Dr. Keller’s. It confuses you, their willingness to allow you to want. You’re an omega, you don’t get to want. You get told what to do, what to wear. You get told what to want. You don’t make decisions, you sit and be a good omega for your alpha.

“I don’t know what I want.” You say quietly.

“Think about it.” He says, stubbing out his cigar. “I won’t be upset. Makes me feel a little better, in truth. Makes me feel less like an old creep trying to steal your innocence.”

You try not to smile at his words. “I mean...you are, in a way.”

He tsks at you but his eyes are playful as he checks his watch. “You’re trouble. We’ve got a few minutes before the hour is up. Let’s see if they can beat it.”

You stare out at the treeline, taking deep gulps of the cool air to try and calm yourself as you wait for the others to arrive. You’re still tingling a bit from your conversation with Price, that slight tickle still crawling across the back of your neck. You want him to hold you there, feel his calloused skin against yours, feel the strength of his fingers as they press into your skin. You want him to take all the turmoil away, the fear and the insecurity and the confusion.

You want to kneel for him.

You’re saved from your thoughts as a familiar figure breaks through the treeline, big and hulking and wearing a skull on his face. You’ve never seen him in this mask before, only ever seeing him in his balaclava. It’s a haunting image, only his eyes visible as he looks up at the top of the tower. Soap and Gaz appear behind him, the three of them making for the staircase.

Their boots echo on the steps as they race to the top, Soap the first one to appear with a wide grin.

“Aye, we found the target!” He exclaims, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you into the air and spinning.

You yelp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hang on for dear life. He smells like musk and sweat, and you can’t help but wonder if they ran here. He sets you back on your feet, your legs aching in protest after sitting for too long. The soreness of your morning hike has caught up to you, and you’ll be feeling it for a few days.

“Not bad.” Price says, looking at his watch. “For the first time with a new scent.” He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get back and you can have the rest of the day off.”

You let out a whine in protest as Price grabs your backpack, gaining the attention of the four men. “You mean we have to walk back too?”

“It’s not even a kilometer.” Gaz says with a grin.

You pout. “I don’t know how far that is! I already had to walk for two hours this morning. My legs hurt.”

“You didn’t stretch before you started?” Soap asks.

“No! I didn’t know we’d be hiking halfway across the country when I was told to get up at 5 am!” You continue to pout.

“Come on, you’ll survive.” Price says, clipping your backpack across your chest again. “You can sleep for the rest of the day.”

You definitely have blisters, the sides of your feet burning as you walk down the stairs. You’re going to take a very long shower when you get back to base, and then crawl into bed and sleep until someone inevitably knocks because they’re worried about you. You’re still pouting, not having even thought about how you were going to get back to base.

Soap stops at the bottom of the steps, turning to glance at you behind him as he bends down slightly. “Hop on, hen.”

It takes you a moment to conceptualize what he’s doing before you break out in a grin, putting your hands on his shoulders to hoist yourself onto his back. His hands grip the backs of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on as he carries you piggy-back style.

“I’ve lifted weights heavier than you, bonny.” He says, not seeming to struggle at all with carrying you.

“Well, omegas are supposed to be small.” You say, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Aye, like a wee bairn.” Soap laughs.

He carries you all the way back to base, barely even breathing heavily by the time you break the treeline. The rocking motion of being carried, along with your exhaustion, has lulled you into a daze, your head leaning against his as you desperately fight sleep.

You’re jostled awake as Soap gently bounces you on his back. “We’re back, hen.”

You grumble sleepily, holding onto him tighter. “Comfy.”

“You’ll be comfier in bed, love.” Gaz says, stroking your hair.

“Carry me.” You murmur, both of them freezing.

“You sure about that, hen?” Soap asks. “You wan’t tae let us in your space?”

“Mmm...yeah.” You murmur, nuzzling Soap’s shoulder.

You miss the silent conversation between them in your half asleep state, the way Gaz’s hand hesitates on the knob, their slow, cautious steps into your space. It was a big deal, infringing upon an omega’s space. It’s sacred. One could only enter with permission, or if it was an emergency. Infringing on that space without permission could be detrimental.

Soap gently lowers you onto your bed, helping you curl up on your side. Gaz unties your boots, setting them on the floor next to the bed before pulling off your socks. He lets out a quiet hiss as he spots your raw and blistered feet.

“That’s going to hurt later.” He whispers. “No wonder she didn’t want to walk back.”

“Didnae say nothing either.” Soap says, his fingers trailing your cheek.

“Stubborn little omega.”

Gaz’s words are the last you hear before you’re lost to sleep, your brain forcing you to give in to your exhaustion finally.

It’s knocking at the door that wakes you. You’re not sure what time it is, or what planet you’re on. Your eyes are crusty with sleep, your pillow damp from drooling. You’re in your bed in the barracks, tucked under a blanket. You vaguely remember giving Gaz and Soap permission to enter before you were out again.

It’s still daylight, judging by the light around the edges of your curtains. Or maybe you had slept through the day and it was morning. You can’t tell, feeling a bit like you were hit by a bus and jumped dimensions.

“C’mon lass, ye got tae eat at least one meal today.” Soap’s voice calls through the door.

You let out a groan, pushing yourself up to sit. You haven’t even changed or showered, but your shoes have been removed. You flex your toes, wincing at the sharp pain from them. You pull the blanket off, staring down at your bandaged feet. They must be as blistered and raw as they had felt in your shoes. You don’t want to get up. You’re going to be sore and probably walking with a limp.

You know what they’re going to think.

The stares you’ll get.

Soon it will be for that reason, though, you think. Why not let them think it now? Then maybe by then they’ll be used to it and it’ll be much less mortifying for you.

You get up, padding barefoot to the door. You open it, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?” Your voice sounds rough with sleep, your tongue feeling heavy.

“Almost 1800 hours.” He answers. “Price let ye sleep. He and Gaz already ate. Had something tae take care of.”

You let out a quiet groan as you rub your eyes. You slept all day, past lunch and nearly past dinner. You likely would have kept sleeping, had they let you, but then you’d be up at an ungodly hour having to scrounge for food in the rec room.

“Get some shoes on.” Soap says. “We’ll get food in ye, then ye can sleep more.”

You let out a quiet grumble but do as he says, grabbing your most comfortable pair of shoes before following him out of the barracks. You let your hand slip into his, the base less populated on the weekend. The mess is still busy, though, most of those that stay keeping their schedules even over the weekend.

Soap helps you make your tray before finding Ghost sitting at a table. You deposit your tray across from them before going to grab something to drink. You look over the options, your sleep-drunk brain trying to decide on what you need.

“I recommend coffee.” A voice says behind you.

You spin around, looking up at a familiar face. Your stomach twists nervously, the back of your neck prickling. It’s the soldier that had been staring at you your second day on base, the one Ghost had scared off with his glare.

“You look like you need it.” He says, giving what you assume is supposed to be a friendly smile, except to you it looks like the grin of a hungry wolf in a storybook, and you’re the injured rabbit about to be devoured. You flinch just slightly as he holds out a hand. “I’m Corporal McKinney.”

You don’t want to take his hand, you don’t want to touch him at all. Catcalling you could handle, the stares and the whistles were nothing. None of them have been so brave as to approach you before now, and you’re starting to realize you prefer it that way.

An overwhelming scent suddenly washes over you, the prickling at the back of your neck intensifying. It’s rich and deep, the scent of leather and gunpowder lacing the ozone-like tang of anger, of danger.

“Can I help you, Corporal?” The deep voice rumbles behind you, the warmth close enough all you’d have to do was lean back slightly and you’d be touching him.

The soldier’s eyes lift from you to Ghost behind you, the wicked gleam to them fading as he stares down the giant alpha. “No, sir.” The soldier swallows thickly. “Just thought I’d introduce myself to the new omega on base. Figured we’d be seeing a lot of her around.”

“She’s no concern of yours.” Ghost says, a dangerous rumble vibrating at the edge of his voice. “You were given the briefing.”

He hesitates and you know he’s measuring the risk of staying, of saying something else. It’s not just the threat of a dangerous alpha, but also of his superior. “Of course, sir.” He finally says, eyeing you once more before he turns on his heel, leaving the mess.

“What do you want?”

You turn on your heel, staring up at Ghost. You’re shaking a little, staring up at him wide-eyed. You no longer feel the haze of sleep, wide awake and alert. Ghost is staring down at you, his scent far less prominent than it had been before.

“To drink.” He motions to the selection, waiting on you to answer.

You stare at the options, your brain trying hard to snap back into the present, to comprehend what you’re looking at. You’re on edge, on high alert after that confrontation.

“W-Water please.” You manage to stutter out,

“Go sit back down. I’ll get it.” He says, turning his back to you.

You scurry back to the table, still trembling as you take your seat again. You’re getting stares, likely from the change in your scent. It’s alerting every alpha and beta in close proximity, their instincts reacting to the scent of fear, of an threatened omega.

“Ye alright, hen?” Soap asks, giving you a worried look. The scent of beta washes over you, Soap projecting his scent to try and cover yours and calm you all at once.

You nod, trying to swallow the panic before you alert the entire mess to your current emotional state. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Ghost returns with a glass of water, setting it in front of you before taking his seat again.

“Thank you.” You murmur, taking a long drink of it. It’s ice cold, the sensation shocking you back into reality a bit.

You’re still trembling slightly as you eat, the back of your neck still prickling. You glance around the quickly emptying mess, eyes following every person that walks too close to the table. You know you’re safe. Soap and Ghost would make quick work of anyone who tried anything.

Ghost did make quick work of the alpha that had approached you.

You’re still in a bit of disbelief that Ghost had come to your aid. You remember the anger burning in his scent, the rumble at the edge of his voice. An alpha poised for a fight. Of course, you were being cornered by another alpha. You don’t doubt Soap could have easily won that fight if he had to, but an alpha had the natural advantage in a fight against other alphas. If it had been a beta cornering you, would he have still come to your aid? Or would he have watched and let Soap handle it?

You're drawn from your thoughts as Soap’s phone rings, and he dismisses himself from the table to answer it. You wonder who it might be. Family maybe? Price? You wish you had someone that would call you regularly. You will, once they start leaving you.

You’re left alone with Ghost, your eyes trying to look anywhere but at him. He takes your tray once you’re done, going to dump it before motioning for you to follow. You’re still a bit shaken, though you’ve managed to get your trembling under control, as well as your scent.

He leads you back towards the barracks, your pace faster to keep up with him. Your feet hurt, but you’re eager to get back to the familiar safety of the barracks.

You stop as a whistle sounds through the air, Ghost’s steps faltering as well.

“Gonna go spread your legs for that freak, bunny?” A voice calls out across the courtyard. “I’m sure I could offer you a better time. At least you’ll be able to see my face.”

The smell of ozone washes over you again, burning straight to some primal part of your brain. You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion, or the emotions still reeling from your confrontation in the mess, but you turn on your heel, stalking over to the group of soldiers. You’re trembling again, but not out of fear. The anger has gone straight to your instincts, burning hot through your veins.

The soldiers laugh as you approach, the one that had spoken grinning vilely at you. “Gonna take me up on my offer, omega?” The sound of your title from his lips nearly makes you shudder in disgust. It’s wrong, it sounds wrong being said in such a way. “I’d love to bend you over and stare at that sweet ass all night-”

It’s not until your hand is throbbing that you register what happened. The soldier stumbles back a step, hand moving to his face. Your hand is balled in a fist, knuckles throbbing from the punch you delivered to his face. The next few moments seem to move in slow motion, your body pushed backwards as a hulking form comes to stand in front of you. The scent of ozone is still burning hot in your nose, anger pulsing through your body. Your ears are ringing, your hands refusing to unball from the fists they’ve closed into. You’re breathing heavily, eyes training on a small speck of mud on the back of Ghost’s jacket.

“-You even so much as look in her direction again, I’ll rip your intestines out, tie them to the back of a humvee and drag you all the way to London, understood?” The dangerous rumble is back at the edge of his voice, his own hands balled into fists.

“Loud and clear, sir.” The soldier spits out, massaging his face from your punch.

A rough hand closes around your arm, making you stumble as you’re half dragged towards the barracks. You’re breathing heavily, breaths coming in gasps as the flood of emotions through you grows to almost be too much. You’re led down the hall towards the rec room, Ghost pushing you inside.

“Sit.” He snaps, pointing at the couch.

You scramble to sit where he pointed, your brain beginning to move in autopilot as you cradle your throbbing hand to your chest. It’s still curled in a fist, the adrenaline pumping through you preventing you from uncurling your fingers. You try to steady your breathing as Ghost digs around in the fridge for a moment. You flinch as the door slams closed, Ghost dropping an ice pack on the coffee table before he takes a seat next to you on the couch.

He grabs your hand, pulling it towards him rather roughly. He forces your fingers to uncurl, his own rough fingers digging into your hand, poking and prodding. He moves your fingers, bending your wrist and moving your arm. “It’s not broken.” He says, grabbing the ice pack and slapping it across your knuckles. “Luckily.”

You’re still trembling, your hand lifting subconsciously to hold the ice pack in place. You feel dazed, not unlike you had earlier when you’d been pulled from sleep, only this time you can feel the emotions still pulsing through you. The remnants of anger, the disgust, the fear both from attacking an alpha, and the reprimanding you’re sure you’re due for doing such a thing.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” You murmur, feeling far away, outside of your body looking in.

“Probably not.” Ghost says.

You turn slightly to look at him, pupils dilated as you simultaneously appear to see him and look straight through him. “Price is gonna find out.”

Ghost nods again, the burn of ozone gone from his scent. “He’ll believe you, though. Anything you tell him, he’s going to believe you over what anyone else says.”

You stare at him, the skull mask from earlier gone, leaving him just in his balaclava. His eyelashes are blonde, you think as you take him in, trying to ground yourself. His skin looks soft, but that could just be the omega screaming at you. You expect him to get up, to leave you alone until you find the will to move, or one of the others finds you. Yet, he stays where he is, eyes focused across the room as you sit there.

“You’re a purebred alpha.” You say, breaking the silence with the thought that had come to mind earlier. You need to keep talking, to keep your mind steady while you relax.

“How did you figure it out?” He asks, not denying it.

“Your scent.” You say, recalling earlier in the mess, the way his scent had permeated your entire body. You hadn’t just sensed it, you had felt it. His emotions, his anger, the hint of desperation for the Corporal to make the smart decision and walk away. “It’s different from other alphas. Price smells good and I’d like to roll around in his scent, but yours hits some deep primal part of my brain.” You say, turning slowly to face him. “Makes sense you’d end up in a position like this. You’re supposed to be like, an apex human.” You laugh quietly. “Just a couple of purebreds. What are the odds?”

“Very high.” He answers.

You laugh again. “Yeah, I know. Both of my parents were purebreds, and my grandparents. Both of them came from a long line of purebreds.” Your brows pinch into a frown. “I didn’t see it in your file, though.”

“I don’t want it to be.” He explains.

“Makes sense.” You say. “If I’d had that choice I’d have it left out too. As soon as someone sees it, that’s how they measure your worth. It’s not about you anymore, it’s your status they want.” You lift the ice, moving your fingers. Your hand is sore, your knuckles starting to swell a bit.

“It’ll bruise.” He says, staring down at your hand.

“‘Spose it could have been worse.” You say, grimacing at the ache pulsing all the way to your shoulder.

“Yeah,” He scoffs. “You could have broken your arm with a punch like that.”

“‘S not my fault the CIA didn’t teach me much.” You murmur. “They mostly made me run.” You remember the hours and hours you spend running circles around the gym. So many circles, over and over again.

Get involved in their hobbies. Your brain flicks through that section of the book, an idea beginning to form in your head. You’d considered it a few days ago, when you first read that chapter. Ghost speaks in violence and warfare, fighting and defending. How do you bond with the apex of humankind?

“Teach me to fight.”

His eyes shift slowly until he’s looking at you. You wish you could see the rest of his face, read his expression. His eyes don't give you much to go off of, something he'd likely perfected over the years.

“Or, at least defend myself.” You continue, fighting the urge to shrink back under his gaze. “I know, Price already told me to run first, but what if that's not an option? Am I gonna throw a shitty punch and hope it works? Aim between the legs and hope I'm faster than they can block? I promise I won't go around trying to fight asshole alphas.”

He continues to stare at you, his eyes locked on yours. Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach twisting nervously but there's no challenge in his gaze, not even a playful one like you'd initiated with Price. He's simply staring.

You wonder what he's looking for, what he's thinking. Will he laugh at you for asking? Tell you to ask someone else? Get Price to do it since he’s actually your alpha?

“Fine.” He grunts, breaking eye contact first as he pushes himself to stand. “We start Monday. Early.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you watch him leave the rec room. You may have just found your way into Ghost’s heart, or at least a way to get him to tolerate your presence.

Monday. Early.

You’ll be ready.

NEXT ->

Taglist Part 1:

@bobaprint, @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10

#call of duty fic #call of duty #cod fic #john price x reader #captain price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #a/b/o #alpha beta omega dynamics #omegaverse #x reader

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