#starting this chapter with a bang lmao

[labellefleur-sauvage]

The Highland Fox and The English Rose

Read on AO3. Masterlist (with fic summary)

NOTE: Rating for this chapter: E

XXX

Chapter 4: The Highland Road for Me

Lucien woke, as he had every morning since the day after his wedding, hard as his dirk.

Sighing, he threw his quilt off his heated body and leaned up on his elbows to stare at his cock, a slight frown on his lips. He had hoped his body would have gotten the hint by now that it wasn't going to have any company other than his hand for a while. Apparently, his little tryst with Elain last night had convinced it otherwise.

He looked over to his window. The window was slightly ajar, and the thin, gauzy curtains framing the glass fluttered softly as the gentle breeze brought the earthy scent of the loch into Lucien’s room. The sun was out with hardly a cloud spoiling the bright blue sky overhead. It was going to be a beautiful day, and he really needed to get out of bed and begin his long list of tasks.

That could wait a few minutes, though.

Lucien reached down and palmed his aching cock. Gingerly wrapping his hand around his shaft, he began stroking himself to an all too familiar beat.

Elain looked beautiful last night under the moon and stars, especially as he slowly moved towards her and lowered his lips to her face. She hadn’t looked frightened or repulsed by his scars and eyepatch; on the contrary, she looked excited by the thought of him touching her, her gaze hazy with lust even as she told him off for how horrible he had been to her the past several weeks.

Her skin was so soft under his lips. Elain had become pliant, like her bones had transformed to water when his lips danced across her face and neck. Her scent—honey and jasmine—zipped across his lips like he’d been struck by lightning. Lucien groaned at the memory—what he wouldn’t give to have her tongue on other places of his body. 

Lucien would much rather get his hands and tongue on her, though. Lucien could already see it, the first time they’d lay together. He would whisper sweet nothings in her ear and kiss her until she was breathless and sick of it. Her neck, shoulders and collarbones would receive the same treatment. She’d be soft and willing, wanting, under him.

Lucien brushed his thumb over the head of his cock, smearing the bead of precome around, shuddering as his hand picked up its pace. If Elain were here, he would guide her hand up and down his shaft, letting her explore his cock to her heart’s content. Soon, though, he would have to move her hand off him, so he wouldn’t finish too early and because he’d need all his attention so he could worship her body. 

If he remembered correctly from their wedding night—and Lucien could recall every breath he’d taken that evening—Elain’s breasts were the perfect size for his hands, her nipples pink and proud. He would spend ages licking and sucking and learning what she liked and didn’t like. Maybe Elain would like having her breasts being bitten and squeezed—maybe she wouldn’t care one way or the other. Lucien would do whatever she wanted him to do. 

He would still tease her for a bit, kissing his way down her stomach, licking and nibbling her hips and thighs. Perhaps by then Elain would be so desperate she’d cry out for him to do more, touch her, end the agony between her legs. Only then, when she’d beg him, would Lucien spread her legs and truly look at his wife.

Lucien gripped the base of his cock and squeezed, taking several deep breaths, willing his impending orgasm away. He wasn’t done imagining what his wife would be like in bed quite yet. 

After a few moments, his hand resumed its lazy pace up and down his shaft. It all felt so good—where was he at again?

That’s right—between Elain’s thighs. She would be pink and absolutely dripping for him, his fingers gliding through her slit with no resistance as he stroked and touched her lower lips. He’d be gentle as he touched her—Lucien knew from prior experiences that his length took lasses some warming up to take—before sliding a thick finger inside her.

Lucien threw an arm over his eye, his hips moving in time with his stroking hand. Elain would be so tight around his finger. He’d thumb the small bud at the top of her lips, working her open gently as his fingers brought her to release, his name on her lips.

“Fuck,” Lucien murmured, adding a twist of his wrist over his cockhead on each upwards stroke of his length. “Fuck, Elain…”

Yes, that’s what he’d rather be doing right now. Before that, though, he’d need to prepare his wife for his cock. 

One orgasm wouldn’t be enough; no, with the tremors of her first release still wracking her body, Lucien would lower his face between her thighs and finally taste his wife. Maybe she’d taste light and floral, her honey and jasmine scent more intense, or perhaps altogether different, more musky and spicy. Regardless, Lucien would spread Elain wide and feast between her thighs.

He could already imagine her gasps and groans as his tongue delved between her slick lips, her cunt still pulsing with her first release. Lucien would lap up her juices and luxuriate in the taste and smell and feel of his wife as she thrashed above him. Her bud would be straining and though he’d try to tease her, make her wait, Lucien knew himself and knew he’d be unable to prevent himself from licking and sucking her small pearl.

Lucien would add another thick finger to her quim—it was still nothing compared to his cock. Elain would moan at the unfamiliar stretch but Lucien would soothe her by telling her how good she was doing and laving her bud with his tongue.

Lucien grunted. His hand was now slick with precome, his cock harder than it had possibly ever been before.

Elain would come again on his tongue, Lucien would make sure of it, her scent flooding his mouth until all he could see and smell and hear was her. Her walls would tighten around his digits and her cries would only make him harder and more needy for his wife.

He’d kiss Elain again, her wetness soaking his face, to let her know how much he wanted her and how desperate he was for her. She’d be ready, spreading her thighs wide to welcome him in the cradle of her hips, his cock brushing against her delicate folds. 

And when he slid inside her tight, silken heat for the first time—

Lucien gasped, his back bowing off the bed as he found his release, his fluids splashing on his stomach and dribbling down his hand. He groaned, working himself through his release, gritting his teeth as the sensations turned from pure pleasure to overwhelming the more his hand moved. Slowly, his hand stopped pumping his length and he lay on his bed, breathing hard. 

If he was able to come at the mere thought of sleeping with his wife, how would he fare when he eventually won her over and consummated the marriage? He might be no better than a green boy about to tup his first lass, coming as soon as he pushed inside her. 

Lucien closed his eyes. He shouldn’t be imagining what Elain would be like—she might be cold and stiff in bed, only laying with him as her societal duties as wife and Lady command. She might outright refuse to lay with him.

Based on the hurt and devastation in her eyes when he’d turned and left her in the garden last night, Lucien wouldn’t blame Elain if she wanted nothing to do with him for the rest of their lives. She was completely right: he had neglected her in favor of another, inadvertently toyed with her, then played with her body and emotions on the eve of temporarily leaving her, which she didn’t even know was about to happen. But something told him that if he managed to convince Elain that he could be a good husband and lover, that she would be just as fierce and passionate as his partner as their arguments have been. 

Lucien pondered his wife as he cleaned himself and got ready for the day. Why was she outside last night? Had she somehow known he was planning on departing in the evening, when the moon was high and bright to guide his way?

He doubted it. It was probably just his bad luck that brought Elain to the garden last night. 

Well, perhaps bad luck was a bit dramatic. 

He should have been more insistent on escorting Elain back to the castle and leaving then and there. But seeing the anger and fire in her eyes was like a glass of the finest whisky straight down his throat: unexpected and thrilling and arousing, all in one. How could he turn away from the raw emotions his wife was displaying? Elain’s clear desire for him was infectious, spreading throughout his own body at the first graze of their skin against each other and rising to match hers. How could Lucien do anything but touch more and more of his wife, her large doe eyes drawing him in, making him forget everything else but her?

And she had gripped him back with as much longing as he had for her. At the very least, it was clear they each fiercely desired each other. If they had to be married for the rest of their lives, it was a good sign that they thought the other attractive.  

Lucien sighed, heading directly for his office. He had a lot to do: go over his maps and notes, retrieve his pack from the bush in the garden he’d thrown it under when Elain chanced upon him, and get new water and some fresh provisions. 

He had only been working for a short time when someone knocked on the door. “Come in,” Lucien said distractedly, rolling up a map.

Tamlin strolled in. Lucien looked up, surprised. “What are ye doing here?” he asked, not unkindly. “I thought ye were leaving early this morn.”

“I wanted to discuss something with ye,” Tamlin said, shutting the door behind him.

“Oh? What’s that?”

Tamlin paused. “What’s Mr. Archeron, Feyre’s father, like?”

Lucien snorted, going over to his large bookshelf and selecting a recent publication on Scottish waterways and lochs. “A right bastard. The epitome of an Englishman, right down to his greedy little belt buckles.”

“So does he no’ view us Scots favorably? Even landholders?”

“The only person he views favorably is himself and anyone he can squeeze a bodle out of,” Lucien said, looking through the book. It was actually quite informative—he should make room and bring it along. “He’s the devil in disguise and I pray every night that I never have to see him again.”

Tamlin pursed his lips. “I get the impression that Feyre is verra independent, that maybe she might no’ care if her father approves or disapproves of her actions, or who she spends time with. Would ye agree?”

“Aye, sure,” Lucien mumbled, looking through his book. It had a detailed map of the lochs in Clans Mackenzie and Munro to the North—if he could charter a boat across the lochs, rather than having to go around them, he’d shave days off his schedule.

“So, since her father isno’ around, and yer technically her nearest male relation, would ye object if I began spending more time with Feyre?”

“If it suits ye,” Lucien muttered. Or perhaps he could avoid the roughest roads altogether and take a boat along the northeastern coast, avoiding the worst of the clans, especially Clan Sinclair.

“Yer a right friend,” Tamlin beamed at Lucien, pulling him in a one armed hug. Lucien stumbled—Tamlin wasn’t the most emotional man, so he must be pleased with something.

“I’m off, then,” Tamlin called, practically running out of the office. “Need to prepare my estate. I’ll call on ye and Lady Elain later, aye?”

“Aye,” Lucien replied in a daze, confused at Tamlin’s outburst, glancing back down at the book in his hand.

“It seems, for a man who should be nearly 10 miles away by now, that you’re looking quite comfortable in your office this morning.”

Lucien swore—why was everyone constantly interrupting him while he was in his office? “How long have ye been skulking about there, Jurian?”

His friend shrugged, stepping into his office and closing the door. “Just when I saw Tamlin step in. I thought you’d both be gone by now.”

“Aye, well, there was a bit of a mishap last night. I wasno’ able to get to the stables.”

Jurian furrowed his brow. “And what was so large a deterrent that you weren’t able to leave during one of the clearest Scottish nights I’d ever seen?”

“Elain.” Lucien answered simply.

“Ah,” Jurian said slowly, sitting in the chair across from Lucien’s desk and propping his feet up. “Yes, I can see why you’d be so reluctant to leave her for so long.”

“It wasno’ that—she was outside in the garden at night and she caught me. Like she was waiting for me.”

Jurian’s eyes widened slightly before he relaxed his features. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You’ll be leaving tonight then?”

“Aye, regardless of what—or who—I see on the way.”

Jurian hummed. “It wouldn’t hurt to tell Elain where you’re off to, in case there are problems or delays.”

Lucien scoffed. “Ye sound just like Eris.”

“Your brother is a very smart man and excellent at planning military maneuvers.”

“That wasno’ a compliment!” Lucien snapped. 

“Perhaps you could have learned a thing or two from him when it comes to your wife,” Jurian shot back. “Vassa says she's clever, and far fiercer than you think.”

“Why is everyone so obsessed with Elain?” Lucien muttered to himself, ignoring how his own pulse quickened at hearing someone else tell him what he already knew about his lovely wee wife. “I’m no’ changing my mind.”

“Have you at least talked to her, like you promised Vassa?”

“Er, aye, in a way,” replied Lucien, thinking less of the words he and Elain had exchanged the night before and more of their bodies moving against each other. 

“Good,” said Jurian, nodding. “Vassa will be happy to hear that. What’s that book you’ve got?”

Happy to move on from talking about Elain, Lucien showed him the book on lochs he’d discovered. With any luck, he wouldn’t see Elain today before he left. His heart suddenly ached at the idea, like it protested being away from the sassy Englishwoman who had quickly taken over his thoughts and dreams. 

XXX

“… and then I hit the wolf right in between the eyes! It was amazing!”

Elain hummed noncommittally, trying to let  Feyre’s words go in one ear and out the other. She and her younger sister were sitting outside in the courtyard on a large plaid blanket, enjoying a simple lunch of bread, cheese and meat. The clouds that had just rolled in above them hid the warm sun that Elain knew was dying to peek back through. 

“I wouldn’t have ever been able to make that shot if I was using my old bow and arrow. Tamlin’s gear is much better quality than mine, obviously.”

“You’re spending quite a bit of time with Laird Stewart,” Elain observed.

To her surprise, Feyre blushed. “Well, it’s not like there’s much else to do here, is there?”

Elain had to give her sister that. Before last night, when she and Lucien had touched each other, Elain felt like she would die of boredom. 

But last night… 

Last night, with Lucien so close to her, and touching her, and whispering sweet words in her ear, Elain finally felt something for the first time she’d arrived in Scotland. Passion, desire, want. And not just from her, but from Lucien as well.

Elain awoke that morning with the sweet dreams of their touches lingering in her mind, and an aching dampness between her legs that she quickly remedied. Her joy fled her as soon as she reached her release as she recalled what Lucien had said to her: I shouldn’t have let it get that far.

Elain huffed. Perhaps it was the curse of all women to suffer idiotic men.

“Well, it isn’t proper to be spending so much time alone with an unmarried man, unchaperoned,” Elain said to Feyre at last.

Her sister snorted. “No one from England will ever know what we’re doing up here, unless we spread rumors about ourselves.”

“That is one benefit to being up here—not having to worry about gossip.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that, anyways.”

Elain furrowed her brows. “What does that mean?”

Feyre paused. “Well, Tamlin’s told me some… intriguing stories about what happened to Lucien. You know, with his…” Feyre gestured to her face. “And his family.”

Elain’s stomach clenched. “What? What have you heard?”

“Has Lucien not told you?”

“No! He hasn’t told me anything!”

Feyre winced. “I shouldn’t have said—“

“You’ll tell me everything you know right now, or I’ll tell Nesta what you’ve been up to with Tamlin!”

Her sister scowled. “Scotland has changed you already. Fine, don’t go repeating this, but Tamlin said Lucien was caught… fraternizing with a servant girl at his family’s castle. The servant girl’s husband beat Lucien nearly to death and took an eye to boot. Brought a bunch of shame on the family, so his father disowned him so he could no longer claim to belong to Clan Vanserra.”

Elain felt like she was sinking. “An affair? Disowned?”

Feyre nodded. “Apparently his mother was so embarrassed by his actions she sent herself to a nunnery to repent for his sins.”

That would explain why his parents weren’t at the wedding. “Oh goodness,” Elain gasped, clutching her chest, her heart and lungs suddenly on fire. What type of man was she married to?”

“Oh fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Feyre said as Elain stared vacantly at the blanket in front of them. “Calm down, please, it’s just gossip. Even Tamlin admitted he didn’t know the full story.”

“Every rumor begins its life with a thread of truth,” Elain gasped, too distraught to reprimand Feyre for her rough language.

“And by the time we hear of it, it might be all wrong,” Feyre said soothingly. “Please, forget I’ve said anything.”

“How do you expect me to just forget that my husband is possibly an interloper?!”

“Quiet! We may not know Lucien that well but Tamlin has had nothing but positive things to say about him besides this. Come on, let’s get our minds off of this by going for a walk along the walls.”

But Elain couldn’t get Feyre’s story out of her thoughts, even hours later as she paced in her bedroom alone. Had Lucien truly ruined someone else’s marriage? What would it mean for her own marriage if she couldn’t trust him not to stray?

Elain had to be missing something. She had to talk to Lucien, right now.

Gathering her courage, she marched out of her room and through the halls. She wasn’t sure where he might be, but thought his office near his room would be a good place to start.

The door to his office was closed but Elain didn’t let that stop her. Gathering the worry and anger that had been gnawing on her all night, she burst into his office. “We need to talk—what are you doing?”

Lucien was bent over a large traveling rucksack on his desk, trying to stuff a thick hardcover book into the overflowing bag. His eye widened and his mouth opened like a fish as he took in Elain before him.

“Er, hello,” Lucien said awkwardly, carefully moving his pack off his desk and out of sight. “What can I help ye with, Elain?”

“What are you doing? What’s that large bag for?”

Lucien didn’t answer. He stammered as she stared at Elain, panic overtaking his eye.

“And why are you dressed like that?” It was the same outfit Lucien wore last night, including his weapons. This wasn’t something someone wore for an evening around his castle or even a midnight stroll around his garden, Elain realized. This was the outfit of someone going away. 

“You’re leaving,” Elain said quietly, studying Lucien’s attire and the guilty look that came over his face. “You’re leaving me .“

“No—I’m not leaving ye, Elain,” he whispered. Lucien looked wrecked, though whether it was due to him abandoning her or being caught doing so, she had no idea.

“Sneaking off in the dead of night with a bag, and you say you’re not leaving me?” She laughed bitterly. “Then explain to me what you’re doing. Something is going on here, I know it.”

He paused. “It’s complicated.”

“Good thing I have nothing but time on my hands.”

Still, Lucien didn’t answer. He swallowed and eyed the door behind Elain.

Elain slammed the door, and the entire wall seemed to shake with the force of her actions and fury. “Go on, husband. It’s just us now.”

Lucien hesitated again. “I’m going… north, further in the Highlands.”

“Oh? And what’s there that’s so secretive that you couldn’t tell me, your wife, where you were going?”

He flushed. “Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t ye dare say—“

“What? That I’m your wife? Are you that ashamed of me that you can’t even stand to hear the words? Are you embarrassed of me?”

“No,” Lucien snarled, storming up to her and glaring down at her. “Never think that I’m ashamed or embarrassed of ye.”

“Then what is it? Why won’t you tell me what you’re doing?” Elain snarled back, craning her neck up to glare back at Lucien.

“It’s dangerous, what I’m doing and where I’m going. The less ye know, the safer you’ll be.”

Elain shook her head, disgusted. “Don’t you dare say you’ve been thinking about my safety as you’ve ignored me the past two weeks in order to leave me in the middle of the night.”

“It’s true—I ken I havena’ been acting like it, but as yer husband, it’s my responsibility to keep ye safe and this is the best way for that.”

She couldn’t help the incredulous giggle that escaped her mouth. Ignoring her was his version of keeping him safe?

"You had better start being honest with me right now,” Elain warned, “or I am going to scream so loud at you, I’ll wake up everyone in the castle.”

He tsked. “Yer being dramatic.”

“I’m being dramatic—!”

“Alright! Fine, fine, keep yer voice down,” Lucien winced, looking back at the window, like he was afraid the sound of her yelling had permeated the glass. “I’m going to a small island called Sangravah,” he said reluctantly, quietly.

Sangravah? She’d heard that before. Elain cocked her head and wracked her brain and remembered the book she’d looked at only yesterday: Sangravah, a small island off the northeast coast with some type of lighthouse or monument drawn on the landscape. 

Why would this blip of an island, an afterthought on the map she’d studied, necessitate such secrecy? What was there that Lucien was so desperate to obtain?

There were so many moving parts and veiled truths and statements she’d gleamed since arriving: Lucien and Eris being brothers but swearing allegiance to different clans, Vassa’s reluctance to discuss Lucien’s past, his lack of family at the wedding, Feyre’s claim for what led to Lucien’s disfigurement and banishment…

Something clicked in Elain’s head. Perhaps it was not a what, after all. 

Elain stilled. “Who’s at Sangravah?” she asked quietly, and Lucien paled immediately.

“How did ye know?” he asked, sounding almost scared.

“Just a guess. There’s enough unanswered questions going around that make this seem personal.”

“Aye, well, good job,” Lucien said awkwardly. “Now that you know where I’m going—“

“But not who you’re going for,” Elain said shrewdly. “Tell me who’s worth traveling through half of Scotland on a dangerous mission of some sort.”

“That’s private! I’ve already told ye where I’m going, that should be enough!” Lucien snapped.

Elain narrowed her eyes. Definitely personal, based on how defensive and scared he had turned when Elain partially guessed the truth. 

Her stomach dropped. “Do you have another woman at this Sangravah?” Elain whispered. “Is that what this is? You’re rescuing your lover?”

Lucien’s eye widened. “No, of course not! How could ye think that?”

“Why else would you be going through all this work?” Elain felt lightheaded, then rage filled its place. “Is it the servant woman who got you banished from the Vanserra clan?”

Lucien’s face froze. “Where did ye hear that?”

“You’re going to get her out so you can send me away, aren’t you?” Jealousy like she’d never felt before flared, bright and hot, inside her. “What’s she like?”

Lucien pursed his lips. “Stop talking.”

“Is she prettier than me? I bet she’s not.”

“Be quiet and shut yer mouth,” he breathed heavily, his nostrils flaring.

“Does your manhood get as hard as fast as it did the first time you saw me naked as it does for whoever this wench is?”

“I’m going to rescue my mother!” he yelled. “My mother is at the convent at Sangravah against her will, and I’m going to get her back!”

The silence in the room was deafening. Elain felt the righteous anger flowing throughout her body ebb away like the tides. “Your… mother?”

“Aye,” Lucien sighed, running a hand over his weary face. Now that he had confessed his ultimate destination, he looked exhausted. “Her husband, Laird Vanserra… discovered something that my mother had done in her past. It doesn’t matter what,” Lucien said, seeing Elain start to ask another question. “He discovered what she had done and needed to be rid of her. There’s no divorce, and he wouldna’ risk the shame he would have brought on his clan by abandoning her. He forced my mother to give up her title as the Lady of Clan Vanserra and dedicate her life to the church, then sent her to the harshest convent in all of Scotland to live out the rest of her life alone.”

“Goodness,” Elain breathed, too stunned to say anything else. 

“It’s a heavily cloistered convent.” Lucien looked like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders, his body relaxing as he confessed his secrets like a man at confession, his words tumbling out of his mouth like he didn’t realize what he was saying. “Once women enter the monastery, the only way they can ever leave is a white shroud around their cold bodies. The only exception is the Mother Superior and her Prioress, who are allowed to leave to conduct church business and get supplies.”

“That’s dreadful.”

“Aye. Worst part is that the convent was established by the English Crown as a way to exert control over the Highlanders. If any Lairds or Lords get any ideas about rebelling, the English will kidnap their wives or daughters and take them to Sangravah, to be held as prisoners in all but name.”

Elain swallowed. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

He chuckled dryly. “Bit much to drop on yer wife, no? Besides, there are some parts of the plan that aren’t as… well thought out. It’ll be dangerous. If it’s discovered ye knew what I was doing, some of the Lairds won’t look too favorably on ye.”

“I could have helped you with… something,” Elain said lamely. 

“Ye really couldn’t. There’s lots of parts that Vassa and Jurian have been helping me with.”

“Vassa and Jurian know all this?”

“Aye. They’re the only ones—besides you, now—who ken where I’ll be and what I’ll be doing the next few months.”

Elain stuttered. “Months? You’ll be gone for months?”

“It’ll take me a while to get to Sangravah, get my mother out, and get back, so aye, a few months. But I’ll be back before you realize, and we can start our marriage properly, like it should have been.” Lucien said this soothingly, like he was talking to a skittish horse or upset child, and not his fully grown adult wife.

That was it. The resentment and rage she’d felt for Lucien coursed throughout her body. He had spent the past two weeks since their wedding ignoring her, then spent a lust-filled evening caressing her, working her up only to deny her, and now he was leaving her alone, with only her sisters for company, in his castle for months, on some type of half-planned rescue mission? 

Over her dead body.

“You’re taking me with you!” Elain hissed. 

Lucien’s eye widened and he scoffed. “I am no’!” 

“Oh yes, you are! You’re taking me with you on this little… adventure you’ve planned!”

“This is no ‘little adventure’! And why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t take me now, I’ll, I,ll… I’ll follow you around forever! You’ll never have a moment alone and you’ll never be able to sneak away and rescue your mother!”

Lucien tsked. “I’m sure I can manage to escape ye for a moment.”

“Or maybe I’ll just tell everyone all about your little mission,” Elain snapped. “Everyone at the castle—Dougal, Alis, all your minor lords and yeoman. I’ll tell them you’ve abandoned your title and wife, that you’re no longer interested in even being a Laird anymore.”

Lucien glared at her. “Yer far too nice to do any of that.”

“You don’t know me at all—who’s to say what I will or won’t do?” Elain shrugged. “Maybe I’ll even write to some of the Lairds…” She paused, another dot connected. “That’s the real reason you established these trade routes, isn’t it? For access to clan lands and roads you wouldn’t normally have, so you could pass unbothered to Sangravah.”

All of the red flush that had gathered on Lucien’s face over the course of their argument vanished instantly. “Eris was right—yer far too clever for yer own good.”

“I wonder how they’d take the news that you brokered contracts with them all under false pretenses,” Elain said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. “If you lied to them about this, what else have you misled them on?”

“I’ll lock ye up in the castle!” Lucien exclaimed desperately. “I’ll, I’ll keep ye confined in yer chambers day and night, until I return!”

Elain leveled a cold glare at her husband. “You’re rescuing your mother from the same situation you just threatened me with. I know little about you, husband, but I know you’d never lock a woman up and throw away the key.”

Lucien deflated at her words. “Aye, yer right,” he said tiredly. “I could never do that to ye.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face, groaning into his fist. “Fine. Ye want to come with? On yer head be it. It’ll be verra hard and dangerous  and rough—they’ll be no niceties like warm meals and sleeping in inns. Ye’ll listen to everything I say and follow my orders. Find a bag and pack light. We leave tonight.”

Elain’s heart jumped in her throat. “Truly?”

“Aye, I said what I said. I’ll gather more provisions. Go on, pack!”

“And you’re not going to leave me behind?” Elain asked suspiciously, already moving towards the door. 

“As ye so kindly pointed out, it appears ye have me by the bollocks,” Lucien grit out. “So no, I won’t be leaving without ye. Ye may need to pass as a boy on the road at times—too many questions and too unsafe for a bonnie lass like ye to be on the road with just me. I’ll have to find ye some pants.”

“Er, no kilt? I have some simple wool dresses—“

“Bring those, and whatever else is plain and will keep ye warm. No kilt for ye—ye’d never pass as a man with those shapely legs. Pack the simple things ye do have, I’ll get the rest. Be back here in ten minutes.”

Elain rushed out of the room without a backwards glance. Finally , she was leaving the castle and doing something.

And she had only needed to coerce her devilishly handsome and difficult husband into letting her accompany him on a mission to rescue her mother-in-law.

Throwing open her wardrobe, she hastily packed several plain wool dresses, a few long skirts and some long sleeved tops, long socks and her traveling cloak. It was probably for the best that Lucien hadn’t gifted her anything with his clan’s plaid, she thought bitterly, as she wouldn’t be able to bring it. Elain had a well-worn pair of tall brown boots that she pulled on, along with some simple bonnets.

She looked around her room. Everything else—her fine dresses, her jewelry, her makeup—couldn’t come with but she wasn’t upset about that. It was a shame she couldn’t fit any of her books in her bag—what was she going to do to pass the time?

Glancing at her desk, a leather bound journal, given to her by Father the morning after the wedding, peeked out at her from under some discarded clothes. Grabbing the journal and the few rough-hewn graphite pencils that came with it, Elain wrote a quick message to her sisters explaining her abrupt absence simply as needing to tour the lands and trade routes with Lucien. Content that that simple missive would hold them over, she stole out of her room and back to Lucien’s office.

“Did ye pack just what you need, nothing else?” Lucien asked as soon as she entered, closing the door behind her. 

“Yes—plain clothes and boots. Did you find some pants for me?”

“Aye,” he confirmed, gesturing towards a haphazard pile of brown clothes of various shades and materials on his desk. “Had to ransack the keep for different sizes. Try them on to make sure they fit.”

“Er, where?” Elain asked. There was no privacy screen in the room, nor a separate room for her to change.

“Right here.”

Elain scoffed. “I’m not changing in front of you!”

“It’s nothing I havena’ already seen, after ye offered yerself so nicely on our wedding night,” Lucien reminded her, briefly glancing up and down her body, a single eyebrow raised. “And we’re married, are we no’? We’ll have to get used to seeing each other bare if it’ll be just us two on the road together.”

Elain flushed. “Fine. Could you… look away, or something, while I change?”

Lucien leaned back against his desk, a smug smirk on his lips. “I’m comfortable here. Go on, we doona have much time.”

Gritting her teeth, Elain reached behind her to begin untying the lace ties on her dress. She huffed a breath. “I can’t reach—can you—?”

Elain felt Lucien’s warm body behind her suddenly. “Aye,” he said, his voice an octave deeper than usual. Elain shivered as his large hands deftly untied the back of her dress. She bit her lip to contain a sigh as his fingers trailed down her now exposed back.

Gripping her hips, Lucien spun her in his arms. His eye was filled with fire, a heat that Elain felt in her own body between her legs. Just like last night, it would be so easy to give in and become enraptured by Lucien. His gaze dipped to her lips and he began lowering his head to hers…

But he needed to work a bit harder for her, Elain thought, especially after last night. Darting under his arms towards his desk, Elain grabbed the pile of trousers, a smirk on her lips. “We don’t have much time, right?”

Lucien released a deep sigh. “Aye, yer right,” he responded, leaning against his desk again and crossing his legs. “Go on, let’s see how they fit.”

Elain took a deep breath. Be direct, bold and vicious, just like her brother-in-law had counseled. Dropping her dress and shift so she was only in her undergarments, Elain kept eye contact with Lucien as she struggled with the first pair of pants, unused to anything other than dresses. She tugged on the pants but they stopped mid thigh. 

“A little small, I think.”

“Aye,” Lucien answered hoarsely, his eye now focused on her bare legs. “Just a wee bit.”

“Where did you get these?” Elain asked, reaching for the next pair and beginning the process again.

“Some stable lad,” Lucien said distractedly, watching Elain raptly as the next pair barely cleared her hips. 

“Well, these fit,” Elain said, looking down at the material covering her lower half like a second skin.

“Ye’ll convince no one that yer a lad wearing those,” Lucien muttered, staring at her body. “But they’ll have to do. I have other clothes ye can borrow if needed. Get changed and let’s go.”

Lucien didn’t wait for Elain, rushing out of his office and letting Elain trail behind him. He led them to the garden and the same wall she had found him at last night.

“The way to the stable will have too many people about,” Lucien explained at her confused look. “If we go over the back garden wall, we can sneak to the stable and avoid everyone.”

“So I caught you as you were leaving last night?”

Lucien grunted his confirmation. “Come, I’ll hoist ye up.”

After they climbed over the stonewall—Elain with Lucien’s help—they quietly crept across the castle grounds to the stables, where a small donkey laden with bags and a sturdy, chestnut horse were waiting. The horse glanced at Elain and stomped a single hoof on the ground, casting an annoyed glance at the inevitable extra weight that would be on his back for the foreseeable future.

“This is Ajax,” Lucien said, giving the horse a solid slap on its hindquarters before moving to the donkey. “He can be a bastard when he feels like it and doesna’ take kindly to strangers so go gently. Don’t tell me ye’ve never been on a horse before,” Lucien groaned, seeing the trepidation on Elain’s face.

“Of course I haven’t! It’s completely un-ladylike!” 

“Not sure that’s how I’d describe ye,” Lucien muttered. “Yes, yes, yell at me all ye like later—for now, just get on the damn horse so we can be off.”

Glaring at her husband, Elain cautiously approached the horse, quietly yelping when it gave a warning snicker to her as she approached. She hooked a foot in a stirrup and glanced at Lucien helplessly. “Do I just…?”

Sighing, Lucien walked over from where he was securing the donkey and firmly gripped her hips, lifting her up and swinging one leg over the horse. Elain clung to the reins for dear life as she settled on the animal.

“This isn’t so bad,” Elain remarked lightly. “Where’s your horse?”

“Only the one.” Lucien hopped up behind on the horse, sitting in the worn saddle and pulling Elain flush to his front between his thick thighs. “We really doona have any more to spare.”

Elain gulped, turning to look at Lucien. He was so close to her. “So we’ll be riding like this, all the way to Sangravah?”

“Aye,” Lucien smirked, reaching around Elain to grab the reigns. “Just ye and me, all alone, for months. Hope yer not regretting yer decision.”

Elain tilted her head up, refusing to give Lucien any satisfaction. “Not at all. Lead on.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow, then began guiding the horse out of the stable, the donkey following. His large hand settled on Elain’s hip, keeping her steady on the swaying horse. His powerful thighs guided the horse out of the castle walls and down the road, towards the forest, with only the bright moon overhead to guide them.

This was all so ridiculous and dangerous and so unlike Elain that she pinched herself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t: she was on a horse traveling through the Scottish Highlands with nothing but some borrowed clothes, her mysterious and strong husband, and her own determination and stubbornness.

Elain could imagine her sister’s reactions. Nesta would surely panic if she heard the true nature of her sudden departure, and Feyre would be sullen and jealous that she wasn’t invited.

But that’s what was so great about all of this, Elain realized. Her sisters weren’t here. It was just Elain and Lucien. Before, the thought of being alone with her husband would have filled her with dread. But now, after it was clear they were at least attracted to each other, the prospect didn’t seem so terrible. 

There was nothing ahead of her but the wild Scottish highlands, and Elain knew whatever she had been looking forward to her entire life was out there somewhere.

[thedo0zyslider]

I was thinking about this last night and...reunited fwhip probably has so many injuries he and gem just didn't catch because they didn't know what being exploded did to you/he had bigger problems to worry about......

And he wonders why he's so fucked up...

[fearandhatred]

god now that deadpool and wolverine has taken over my life i am regretting so much that i revamped my old marvel account into this one... granted it was abandoned for like 6 years but i should have just created a new one lol

[orcelito]

Thinking about the stunts Vash is going to pull in INTL 16 and. 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 1 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, curses, jungkook is lowkey a cocky asshole but we love him, mentions of ghosting (reader to Hoseok), mentions of frosh week, mentions of Nabi spraining her ankle, a frat party, beer pong, Sam Hwang, peach, explicit content: overhearing someone having sex, female masturbation, sex toy (vibrator), praising, nipple play, hickeys, dom!Hoseok, sub!reader, degradation, Hoseok likes being called sir (lmao), whip (sorta, with a belt), choking (with a belt), safe word, oral sex (male receiving), mouth fucking, balls fondling, jerking off, spitting in the other's mouth, Hoseok does not believe in aftercare (rip)

☆word count: 11.8k

☆a/n: CHAPTER ONE!! LET'S GET THIS JOURNEY STARTED BABY!!! thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, January 17th 

If there is one thing you’ve figured about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he is an insufferable prick, yet an endearing one. As your older brother’s best friend, Jungkook has taken a liking to teasing you, treating you like his own little sister. It was weird at first – the day you  met him, you were struck by his looks. Who wouldn’t be? Jungkook is tall, has a sleeve of tattoos, and he rocks an eyebrow and two lip piercings. 

It took you all but three days to realize that he is a too full of himself asshole. And had you known what you were signing up for when Taehyung suggested that you move in with him when his friend Jimin moved out to live with his girlfriend, maybe you wouldn’t have accepted.

You love Taehyung. He’s an incredible brother, has always taken care of you when you were younger and your mother was never home to do so. You love him enough that you didn’t mind moving in with him even though there was a third party you didn’t know.

Jungkook, that is.

It’s been months now. Months of living with Jungkook, of waking up to his insufferable smirk and even worse teasing, whenever Taehyung is not around. Because, of course, when your brother is here Jungkook is an angel, never once saying anything to you that could be taken the wrong way.

Thing is, Taehyung has always dreamed of studying abroad, in Paris. Has always wished to experience the French lifestyle, to wake up to eat croissants and gaze at the Eiffel Tower in the distance. So when he got the opportunity to do his winter semester over there, of course he jumped on the chance. 

You’ve been living alone in the same apartment as Jeon Jungkook for less than a month and you already wish May to be at your door and for Taehyung to come back.

It’s late. Sometime close to two am, and the bed creaking in the room next to yours, the one banging into the wall, has been keeping you up.

Or maybe the intermittent high-pitched clipped moans are what are keeping you up. Because, mind you, the walls of your apartment are paper-thin. So paper-thin sometimes you think you’re in Jungkook’s room while he’s ramming some girl he probably doesn’t even know the name of. Sometimes, you think you can almost picture him. Almost see the muscles of his back move under his skin as he jack-hammers into yet another girl, almost see his powerful thighs slap on hers each time he pushes in, almost see his fucked-out face when he comes with that loud grunt of his…

You miss Taehyung being around because Jungkook wasn’t as loud then. Still brought girls home every Thursday like clockwork, but made sure he wasn’t loud enough for the whole building to hear him. With Taehyung gone, Jungkook has stopped caring, and you have been suffering the consequences since then.

In truth, it hasn’t been that long. Less than three weeks, and you’ve heard Jungkook fuck like four times? You reckon it could be a lot worse… but he could also be respectful and not fuck people when you’re trying to sleep because you have a nine am class the next day.

The first time it happened, you were mortified. You listened to music, hoping you wouldn’t hear it anymore but, the thing is, his headboard bangs against the same wall your headboard is against. So you still felt it, and you suffered through the whole ordeal hoping you would disappear through the floor.

The second time it happened, you were annoyed. You considered knocking against the wall to tell him to shut the fuck up – or rather to tell the girl to shut the fuck up – but you resisted. Solely because you didn’t want to stir shit with Jungkook. You considered asking Taehyung to tell Jungkook to be more respectful, but it sounded childish and stupid so you eventually let it slide.

The third time it happened, you were… aroused. Maybe because it had been a long time since you had sex – the last time being in late November with Hoseok, a guy studying in the same major as you, though he’s Jungkook and Taehyung’s age. Yet, even though you felt aroused, you focused on all the ways you were going to murder Jungkook the next day.

Today… today the arousal is winning the game. It’s been making your heart run wild, and your grip on your sheets has your knuckles turning white, skin stretched taut over how hard you’re clenching your fists. 

And when you hear Jungkook say something that definitely sounds like “Good fucking girl��, you lose it. You’re too aroused, dripping from just hearing him, and you need to have the coil inside of you snap if you want to be able to sleep tonight.

With all the sounds emerging from his room, you doubt Jungkook is going to hear you. So you shamelessly rummage through the top drawer of your night table, searching for your vibrator, smiling in victory when your hand closes around it.

You’re wearing PJ shorts, and you quickly rid yourself of them as the girl lets out a short-clipped moan that makes you think you’re listening to porn, and not to your roommate fucking.

Though you reckon sex with Jungkook really does sound like porn.

You lie back in bed once you’re rid of your shorts, taking a hold of your vibrator. You turn it on, adjusting it to your favourite setting. You feel strange doing so, like you’re doing something you really shouldn’t be doing, but you can’t help it.

The second you press the vibrator on your clit, you forget all about how what you’re doing is wrong. All you can focus on is the pleasure that radiates through your body, and your eyes close tightly, images of Jungkook swirling in your brain.

When the girl moans again, and Jungkook tells her that she’s ‘taking it so well’, your free hand shoots to your breast, pinching your nipple through the fabric of your t-shirt. It’s not enough, and you’re quick to move it under the shirt. You pinch hard, and you let out a breathy sound as your thighs instinctively close on your wrist.

Jungkook’s headboard starts banging against the wall even more, and your brain produces an image of Jungkook between your legs, fucking you until all you can think is his name. It has you pushing your vibrator inside of you, and you lightly moan again at the pleasurable intrusion. 

You let go of your nipple, moving that hand to your clit instead, and your fingers expertly start drawing circles on it. You listen to Jungkook’s grunts all along, to the girl’s moans, and maybe you’re a little too blissed out to realize they’re done, but when you reach your high you can’t help the broken moan you let out, a little too loud for the paper-thin walls of your apartment.

As you’re coming down from your high, you realize the apartment is eerily silent, and you swallow the lump of awkwardness that’s formed in your throat. You wipe your vibrator with some tissue, knowing you’ll have to actually clean it on the morrow, but you don’t want to kill the silence of the night just so you can put your vibrator back in its hiding spot right away. 

But you’re not stupid, and you know you need a trip to the bathroom anyway. You put your PJ shorts back on, grab your phone to use it as a flashlight so you don’t bump into a wall on the way to the bathroom, and you tiptoe all the way over there, hoping to be as soundless as possible.

You have to walk in front of Jungkook’s room to get to the bathroom, and then halfway across the living room. You notice his door is closed on your way, and you peacefully make it all the way to the bathroom. You quickly pee and clean yourself up, washing your hands before you open the door.

Which, you reckon might have been your demise. Because when you open the door of the bathroom, it’s to let out a high-pitched startled yelp at the sight of a shirtless Jungkook on the other side. The sound of the faucet must have hidden his footsteps.

You stare at each other for a few seconds, and in the dim light, you’re pretty sure Jungkook is smirking.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks after the silence has started to stretch into awkwardness.

You clench your jaw, gaze dropping to the ground. “You were disturbing my sleep.”

He chuckles, cocking his head to the side. “Was I now?”

Your eyes shoot back to his face at the low huskiness of his tone, and you wish with all of your heart that you had the courage to punch him in the face. But you don’t, so all you reply is, “You need to start fucking your hookups somewhere else.”

His smirk falls into a pout. “I won’t go over to the girls’ places. But I can make sure they’re more silent next time.”

Your brain can’t help but wonder if he means ‘they’ as in he was fucking two girls or just they as in generally referring to a single person.

You obstinately remain silent for a moment, holding his gaze with surprising defiance. “Please do,” you finally choose to say, and the smirk makes its way back to his features.

“I promise,” he says, voice low once again, and you hate how it has something tightening inside of you once more. 

You hate it so much that you escape, wishing him good night as you walk around him. You feel the warmth of his body on the way, and you’re thinking about ways to stab him in the back when he says, “Sleep well, peach.”

Saturday, January 19th

You’ve taken to referring to last Wednesday night, or early Thursday morning, as The Incident. At least that’s what you call it when you talk about it with your friends, Ria and Nabi. Ria, who’s always had some sort of a crush on Jungkook is absolutely flabbergasted each time it’s mentioned, and Nabi thinks he’s proven that he’s the biggest asshole in college.

You relate to both, and mostly agree with Nabi. 

You’re supposed to go to some party later tonight. Ria convinced you to pre-drink at the girls’ dorm before you go, considering it’s closer to the party than your apartment, and the three of you are sitting in a circle on the floor, with music playing in the background. Needless to say, Nabi has been complaining ever since you got there, because she doesn’t usually do parties, and Ria is so excited she’s got you convinced that tonight will be the best night of your life.

Almost.

“Shots?” Ria asks as if you haven’t already taken two shots each.

She’s holding the bottle of tequila up, a red flush to her cheeks and mischief lighting her gaze. You don’t find it in you to say no, because you know that without the tequila Nabi is never going to make it to the party.

“Let’s do this,” you say, offering her a smirk as Nabi hides her face in her hands.

“You girls are going to kill me,” she complains. 

“Come on,” Ria says, playfully pushing her on the shoulder. “Maybe that cute guy you like is going to be there!”

Nabi has had a crush on someone from your major, Kim Namjoon, ever since you met her at the beginning of Frosh week last semester. He’s a tall guy, with dimples whenever he smiles, and you can see why she’d have a crush on him. Thing is, Namjoon has been dating someone ever since then, and Nabi has just been suffering in silence.

You still remember the moment you saw the crush bubble to life. It was day three of Frosh Week, and Namjoon was in charge of your team, along with Hoseok. You, Nabi, and three other first years were winning the relay race, figuring out the puzzles so quickly you had a good advance on the other teams. In a leap of happiness, Nabi jumped over a small stone wall on campus. One of her feet got tangled, and she ended up spraining her ankle.

Namjoon had been right by her side, asking her if she was okay. And Nabi has been in love with him ever since that day, though she’d never dare say it aloud.

“I don’t like anyone,” she grumbles, but the way her cheeks flush red is telling.

“Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon,” you singsong, offering her a shit eating grin. 

She retaliates by saying, “When’s the last time you’ve fucked Hobi? Didn’t you say he was the best lay of your life?”

Your mouth falls open in surprise, and Ria lets out a loud laugh.

“We stopped fucking in November, you know that!” you burst, feeling yourself turning crimson. “And it’s not like I have a crush on him, I stopped because it felt like he had a crush on me.”

Nabi has a winning smile on her lips. “And what’s so bad about that?”

“I mean…” you trail off, shrugging your shoulders. “The sex was good, but I didn’t feel like dating him. Simple as that.”

“Why not?” Ria asks, tequila forgotten. “You never told us.” She adds a pout to her sentence, trying to get you to explain.

There’s no explanation. You just didn’t feel like it. You tell them as much, but Nabi doesn’t buy it. Ria, on the other hand, lets out a sound that has both you and Nabi startling.

“I know why!” she explains.

You cock an eyebrow. “Why?”

“You live with fucking Jeon Jungkook, of course you don’t want to date Hobi. Especially after The Incident.”

You laugh, as it’s just as ridiculous as you expected it to be. “Not at all. Jungkook is Tae’s best friend.”

Both your friends look at you, as if what you said was the stupidest shit they ever heard.

“What?”

“What does it change?” Nabi asks with a small voice. 

“Well,” you let out, because you don’t really know. It’s just weird to you, and you don’t know how to explain it. “For one, I’m pretty sure Tae would kill him if he ever laid a finger on me.”

“Tae is in Paris,” Ria innocently says.

“Irrelevant,” you say, chuckling. “He’s going to be back in just a few months.”

“A lot can happen in a few months,” she adds, wiggling her brows suggestively.

You roll your eyes before reaching out between the two of you. “Give me the tequila.”

“I’ll fuck him if you don’t,” she teases, and she cradles the tequila to her chest. “As a matter of fact, maybe I’ll try to fuck him tonight.”

“Have fun!” is all you answer before making grabby hands at her. “Now, give me the alcohol, let’s get plastered before we get there so we don’t have to drink the crappy frat booze.”

*****

The frat house hosting the party is wild. Has always been – you’ve always found they go too far with most of their parties. But they also host the most memorable parties, and you know tonight will be a blast the moment you set in to see the strung LED light, shining different patterns of colours around the main room. A table in the corner is stacked high with every bottle of hard alcohol imaginable, and there are three coolers you assume are holding beer or something of the sorts. 

One of the guys – Dave? – shows you three where you can leave your coats, on a bed in the upstairs bedroom, and then he walks you to the alcohol table, offering to pour you some shots.

Nabi giggles, because by the time you left their dorm, she got quite drunk, claiming she needed it if she were to run into Namjoon after what you and Ria had said. She accepts the shot she’s handed, though half of it has spilled on her hand by the time the guy gives you yours. He puts salt on your hands, carefully, as Ria makes fun of Nabi, and you look around, scanning the crowd. You recognize a few people from your class, along with the usual party crowd of your college. You smile at two guys you’ve spoken to before at least once, before resuming your attention on Dave (?) as he hands you a slice of lemon.

When the four of you are ready, you lick the salt, knock back the shot, and then bite in the lemon to chase the taste of tequila away. It’s cheap tequila, and even with lemon the taste lingers while you prepare vodka cranberries for you and your friends. And though Ria loves dancing, you and Nabi win as you choose to head to the kitchen, where you know the music isn’t usually as loud.

The first thing you notice when you enter the kitchen is the beer pong table in the middle. Jeon Jungkook is currently playing, along with Jimin, another of your brother’s friends. As he sees you, Jimin raises his glass, offering you a wide grin, and then he punches Jungkook in his side before motioning to you.

Jungkook notices you then, and he offers you a smirk as he eyes you up and down. You feel shy for half a beat, though you know you look good. You’re wearing a green corset along with a pair of black leather pants, and you know the two pieces of clothing hug your body perfectly. Plus, Ria did your makeup, and Ria never fails when it comes to makeup. So you wait as Jungkook looks at you, hoping the foundation Ria put on your face is thick enough for him not to see you blush as The Incident inevitably comes back to your mind.

You look away, and then you see Hoseok hovering by glass sliding doors, along with Namjoon and their other friend Yoongi. Hoseok is busy with a conversation, and when he bursts out laughing you can hear it clear as day.

Why didn’t you want to date him? You don’t know. You actually really don’t know, because he ticks off all the boxes. But something was missing, you presume, and sometimes you hate yourself for it.

He must have sensed your attention, and he turns his head towards you. You don’t miss the way his smile falls a little, and he nods once in recognition. When you smile, his mouth closes to offer you one of those awkward tight-lipped smiles, and your gaze drops away to the cup in your hand.

Of course, Ria has a nefarious plan in mind, because she hooks her arm with yours and Nabi’s, pulling you towards the trio of guys. You’re fully aware that it’s mostly for Nabi, and that it’s stupid because last you’ve heard, Namjoon is still dating his girlfriend, but you let your friend pull you towards the men, gaze still stubbornly hiding in your cup.

You watch the liquid slosh around as you stop in front of them, and Namjoon greets you. Hoseok falls eerily silent, and Yoongi asks you all how you’ve been doing.

You only join in the conversation when you’ve taken a long sip from your cup to ease your nerves. Not that it really helped, but you reckon just standing there in silence would probably make things more awkward than anything else.

“Nabi is pretty drunk,” Ria is saying when you finally look up from the cup. 

“Am not!” Nabi insists, voice slurred. “Or maybe just a little.”

Namjoon laughs, while Yoongi chuckles. “As long as you don’t fall and sprain your ankle again, I think you’re alright.”

“Won’t fall again,” Nabi promises. “Not with these two with me.” She says that motioning to you and Ria, and it somehow brings Namjoon’s attention to you.

“I saw your essay on the synthesis and control of energy metabolism,” he tells you, a dimpled smile on display. “It was pretty good.”

You can’t help but slide your eyes to Nabi, who wrote a far better essay on human health and bacteriophage in your opinion, and you don’t miss the way her gaze drops to the ground.

“Thanks,” you reply to Namjoon nonetheless.

He’s started TA-ing to help out Seokjin, one of the biochemistry grad students. All of you are biology students, except Ria and Yoongi. Ria is in administration, and Yoongi studies music, his concentration being piano and producing.

There’s an awkward silence, and you glance towards Hoseok, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. He’s good-looking, even though he’s simply dressed in a T-shirt with some graphics on the front and a pair of discoloured jeans. Knowing him, he probably has a crazy jacket upstairs, because you know he’s good when it comes to fashion.

It’s what attracted you to him in the first place.

“How are you?” you ask him, and you notice Yoongi’s pointed gaze on you. It’s disapproving, you think, but the question left your mouth without you even wanting it to.

“I’ve been great,” Hoseok replies, though it’s a little colder than what you know him to be.

You nod, gaze dropping to the ground as Ria strikes a conversation with the three others, clearly trying to give you and Hoseok some space. It has the two of you just standing in aimless silence, until the sound of whooping behind you attracts your gaze to the beer pong table, where Jimin and Jungkook are celebrating a win. “I’m…” you trail off as you turn back to look at him. “I’m glad. How are your classes?”

He sighs. “They’re harder than first-year classes.”

You don’t miss the ghost of a teasing glint in his eyes, and you immediately latch onto it. “Oh, please, you struggled in molecular biology. I got A+ in the class.”

He chuckles, and you physically relax. Because you haven’t really talked since you ended things in November, finals coming in the way of partying and other events where you would run into him. So you didn’t know before today where you stood with him, and you’re relieved that he doesn’t seem like he’s holding a grudge.

“You weren’t in Lester’s class,” he points out. “Even Namjoon almost failed Lester’s class.”

You gasp in fake outrage. “No way! And now he’s the biochem TA.”

“I know,” Hoseok says, slightly shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

The renewed complicity between the two of you is easy, you realize, and when he suggests playing a game of beer pong, you immediately agree. Or maybe you only agree because you don’t know where Nabi, Ria, Yoongi and Namjoon went, only that they aren’t next to you anymore.

 Jungkook and Jimin are still undefeated at the table, and when Jungkook catches sight of you moving closer, he winks before shooting.

You’re not surprised when the ball goes right in a cup, leaving only one on the table. Jimin laughs as their opponents claim Jungkook cheated, and Jungkook shrugs his shoulders.

“You should know better than to call me a cheater, bro,” Jungkook says, and he runs a hand in his hair.

An infuriating small strand falls in his big doe eyes, but he seemingly doesn’t care. He glances at you once again, eyes trailing between you and Hoseok.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks when his gaze settles back on you.

You don’t miss the way his eyes dip to your cleavage before moving back to your face.

“I’m here to beat your ass,” you reply, and you offer him a shit-eating grin.

He laughs, and he sets his attention on Hoseok. “I hope you’re good, bro, because she’s just declared war.” And then he looks at you, smirking that insufferable smirk once more. His doe eyes narrow threateningly, and you find yourself wishing you had never heard him fuck before.

Because all your brain can picture right now is how you came to the sound of his grunts a couple of days ago.

“What?” you can’t help but say, though he looks away from you as the two other guys shoot, completely missing the three cups left in front of Jimin and Jungkook. 

You notice Jimin looking at you with an eyebrow cocked, and the smile on his lips means nothing good. You furrow your brows, because you know how much of a gossip he is, but thankfully enough for you, he has to throw.

You watch as he does so, landing it right in the last cup. Jungkook of course throws right in the cup too, claiming the victory for them as the two other guys grumble and leave the table, leaving the place free for you and Hoseok.

You meet Hoseok’s gaze, offering him a small smirk. “I hope you’re ready to get fucked.”

You only realize how crude your words sounded, especially considering your history with him, when he starts laughing, that contagious laugh you’ve always found cute.

“I mean, I’m a pretty good shot,” he says once you’ve calmed down. “Are you?”

You wince. “Once in a while I’m good,” you answer truthfully. “Most of the time I suck.”

“Well hopefully you’ll be good tonight,” he teases, gently nudging you with his elbow.

You offer him a determined nod, before turning to face Jungkook and Jimin. You quickly put the solo cups back in position, as Jungkook watches you with a half-smile on his lips. You don’t know what to make of it, so you ignore him.

A small, tiny, minuscule voice at the back of your head tells you he probably knows about The Incident, but you ignore it entirely like you’ve been doing for the past few days.

Turns out Hoseok really is a good shot. He lands all of his shots, but of course, it has to be the day you suck. You don’t land any, up until the redemption that brings you back into the game when Jungkook and Jimin are about to win.

It makes you scream in happiness, and you throw your arms around Hoseok’s neck, right as his hands lay flat on your waist. He pulls you close, laughing in your ear until you let go, and you have the decency to feel bad.

You’re pretty sure you broke his heart in November, and you’re pretty sure you’ll only end up breaking it again. But there’s just something in the way Jungkook is staring from the other side of the table, smile gone, that makes you want to cling to Hoseok. So you do, and when he stands behind you to help you with your next shot, you let him put one hand on your hip.

Your gaze meets Jungkook’s, and you watch as his eyes dip to the fingers on your hip. He cocks his head to the side, wets his lips, and then an infuriating smirk lights up his features dangerously until you feel like you need to look away or else you’ll combust. So you glance at Jimin, who is just smiling prettily because when is he not, and then you focus on the lone solo cup you have to aim for.

“What you want to do,” Hoseok says, leaning so he can speak in your ear. You’re infinitely aware of how his pelvis brushes your ass, and your breath catches in your throat. He continues, “is to throw in a parabola. That way you won’t hit the rim of the cup”. He grabs your wrist, lifting your hand. “From this height, it should work.”

You nod, because you don’t think you can answer, especially not as you can hear Jungkook snickering from where he’s standing. Instead, you really focus on the cup, and when you’re about to throw, Jungkook speaks up.

“Put it in, baby.”

Your brain short-circuits, and it’s no wonder you miss by a good, few inches. Jimin is a giggly mess next to Jungkook, Hoseok can’t resist his laugh, and all you can do is glare at Jungkook’s satisfied smile.

“What the fuck?” you let out.

He winks at you. “Gotta learn to not get distracted, peach.”

You hate the nickname. He knows that you do, and it’s the reason why he’s been using it for months now. Ever since one late night where you played Mario Kart together with Taehyung and Jimin, and you kept choosing Princess Peach as your character. When you went in the kitchen to grab a drink, Jungkook followed you and teased you about it, and now the nickname has stuck.

Though evidently never in front of Taehyung.

You wish you had a snarky retort in you, but all you can do is think about The Incident, and pray he can’t tell that your cheeks are burning up because of him and not because of the alcohol.

You end up losing the beer pong game, and you cringe internally as you watch Hoseok dapping Jungkook and Jimin up. You begrudgingly congratulate them, as Jungkook teases you for the loss.

“Would have thought your brother taught you better than this,” he says, nudging you with his elbow.

You roll your eyes, glancing at Hoseok, but he’s striking a conversation with Jimin. 

“Tae and I didn’t spend all that much time together, Jungkook,” you remind him. “You know I just moved in with you guys because you needed someone after Jimin left.”

Jungkook shrugs. “You seem pretty close to him.” 

He falls silent, pulling at his piercing as you glance at his features. You’ve left your liquid courage somewhere on the table, and you really wish you had it with you right now. Only so you could avoid the sudden wistful look in Jungkook’s haze, though it disappears so quickly you think you might have imagined it.

“He’s really protective of you,” he comments as you too remain silent, not knowing what to say.

You chuckle, because if there is a thing that is true, it’s that your older brother is an overbearing asshole. “That he is,” you agree, and you both laugh.

“Hey, do you want a drink?” Hoseok suddenly asks, and you realize that Jimin has disappeared. 

You’re pretty sure Jungkook is eyeing him up and down when you reply, “Please, I need a new drink.”

Hoseok beams, and you make to move towards him when Jungkook grabs your arm to stop you. Your eyes widen, The Incident flashing in your mind, but his tattooed fingers let go of you as you throw him an inquisitive look.

“I’m not drinking tonight,” he admits. “I came with my car, thought I’d offer to drive you home.”

At that, your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline in surprise. “What?”

He shrugs, corner smile back on his pink lips. “As long as you don’t get sick, that is.”

You ponder for a time, because you were supposed to sleep over at Nabi and Ria’s dorm tonight. You reckon heading home would probably be better, especially now that Hoseok has caught your attention again.

Maybe you can give Jungkook a piece of his medicine.

“Ayt,” you tell him, moving closer as a secretive smile moves on your lips, brought up by the evil plan that is just starting to form in your brain. “I’ll find you later?”

Jungkook looks down at you, tongue pushing on the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head to the side. A smirk moves on his lips and he glances at Hoseok before settling his doe eyes back on you.

He looks nothing like a doe when he says, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

And then he’s the one that walks away, and you can’t breathe for a few seconds as Hoseok waits patiently, either unaware of the situation or not caring. Though you know he knows Jungkook is your roommate – he probably just thinks Jungkook is being nice.

You inhale deeply, before turning to look at Hoseok as you let out your breath. “So, drinks?”

He smiles, genuinely, nodding his head as he offers you his hand to take. To your surprise, he pulls you close to him, and the way his gaze looks down on you makes you all too aware that you used to fuck him, and he used to fuck you good.

“What are you drinking tonight?” he asks, head dipping so he can ask the question in your ear.

“What do you want?”

His smile turns a little dangerous, and he looks over your head to the doorway to the living room. “Shall we?”

You laugh, nodding your head enthusiastically, and you let him pull you behind him. He guides you to the drink table in the living room, where he makes you a rum and coke as you scan your surroundings. You spy Ria and Nabi dancing, and you only understand why when you notice that Namjoon is nearby too, with Yoongi who’s just standing to the side, scrolling on his phone as if bored.

You know Hoseok likes to dance. That’s how you first kissed all those months ago, so you don’t hesitate to ask if he wants to join your friends after you’ve both drank a couple of sips from your respective solo cups. He obviously agrees, and you take his hand to guide him to your friends. You’re painfully aware of how Yoongi raises his head when you get closer, eyes dropping to your entwined hands. He furrows his brows disapprovingly, and you wonder if he’ll speak up.

If he’ll speak up and ruin your plan for you. 

He doesn’t, instead meeting your gaze as if daring you to do something. It makes you feel bad for a split second until Hoseok lets go of your hand to rest a hand on your hip as he nestles his lean body against your back.

“You know,” he says in your ear, and you look away from Yoongi, refusing to acknowledge his challenge. “I always wondered why you ghosted me.”

You gulp, and you follow his lead as he makes you sway your hips against him. Ria whistles and your eyes widen a little as if to say ‘please not right now’.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it’s true. “I didn’t really mean to ghost you, just got busy and…”

He laughs, and you’re surprised to hear it ring true. “Y/n,” he says. He leans even closer, and his lips brush your ear. It makes goosebumps rise all over your body, right as he continues, “You can say you got scared. I gave you plenty of reasons to be scared.”

Because you had agreed on no feelings, and he still had developed some, hadn’t he?

“I’m still sorry, ghosting you was shitty of me.”

He chuckles, and you’re starting to recognize the man that he is in the bedroom. His voice is low, husky, when he says, “Should I punish you for it?”

The Incident and Jeon Jungkook are thousands of miles from your thoughts when his words settle in, making heat pool at your core.

“You’d still want to do this?” you ask, breathlessly.

He nibbles at your earlobe, and you instinctively tilt your head to the side to give him better access. He kisses under your ear, tongue darting out to taste your skin, and this time Ria fully hollers in front of you.

You glare at her, only to see that she and Nabi are having the time of their life watching you.

“I haven’t been able to forget how good your pussy feels wrapped around my dick,” Hoseok replies after he’s sucked a hickey on your neck. “Trust me, if I can fuck you again, I’ll do it.”

You don’t hesitate when you turn around, resting your forehead against his. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

And you know you would. Especially considering how tense he was when you first talked to him tonight. 

“Sweet of you,” he comments, and a smirk grows on his lips. He pulls away from you, taking a sip of rum and coke. “I wasn’t catching feelings for you, if that’s what you were worried about.” He pauses as his face falls fully serious. “You just don’t like when people treat you right.”

You’re insulted. You really are, yet… he isn’t entirely wrong. The minute a guy gets too close, you dip – you blame that on the fact your father abandoned you and Taehyung when you were still kids.

“Is that why Yoongi is glaring at me?” you ask, a little colder than intended. 

The message still passes, and Hoseok shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t care what Yoongi thinks. He always thinks he knows me better than I do but, trust, he doesn’t.”

You’re surprised at just how bitter Hoseok’s sentence sounds. You always thought Yoongi and he were best friends. It’s strange to think that maybe they aren’t, or at least maybe they aren’t close enough to be.

“Anyway,” Hoseok adds when you remain silent for a little too long. “If you’re willing to fuck again, I’d be down. I haven’t found another pussy like yours since the last time we fucked.”

Which coincidentally is the last time you had sex with anyone. You’re not surprised Hoseok fucked some other people after you – with his easy charm, you know he can have anyone wrapped around his finger pretty easily. 

And if he wants to participate in your evil plan so willingly, who are you to tell him no?

“The night’s barely started,” you point out. “But maybe you can come back to my place later?”

You’ve never invited him over before, because if there’s a thing that scares you more than anything in this world, it’s Taehyung hearing you having sex with some guy. But now that your brother is in Paris, you figure it doesn’t matter.

Plus, if you want Jungkook to get a taste of his own medicine, you have to bring Hoseok home.

“Deal,” Hoseok tells you, and he seals the deed with a searing and unexpected kiss.

You still kiss him back, hungrily, your body remembering just how good Hoseok can make you feel. You just have to make it through a party – with Jungkook driving you home, you know it’s likely you won’t leave until the party is starting to dwindle down.

When you pull away, Hoseok licks his lips once, as if wanting to remember the taste of you, before saying, “I’ll find you at the end of the party”.

You nod, and begrudgingly let him leave when he walks over to where Yoongi is standing, now joined by a baffled Namjoon, who glances between the two of you a couple of times. You ignore him, instead focusing on Ria and Nabi as they drunkenly pull you away, laughing wildly.

“What the fuck was that?” Ria asks in between two sets of laughter as you emerge in the kitchen. “I thought you said you didn’t want him anymore.”

You don’t want to jinx your plan, so all you can think to do is shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “It just happened.”

In a weird moment of soberness, Nabi says, “Please don’t lead him on. He’s a decent guy”.

You tell your friends what he told you, and they both seem taken aback, yet they don’t question it. After all, the amount of alcohol in your blood is enough to make it so it’s a little hard to think profoundly, and inhibitions have flown out the window before you even got to the party.

After the conversation is over, your two friends insist on playing beer pong, claiming that they need you to encourage them. You recognize Dave at the table – you think that’s his name – and you all cozy up next to him as you ask to be next. You linger behind, mostly because you’ve noticed someone you’ve been avoiding ever since you got to college last semester, and you hope he doesn’t notice you.

Maybe he’s one of the reasons why you’ve been struggling with people treating you right, like Hoseok mentioned. Because Sam was your first love, and he played you immensely.

If he notices you, he doesn’t look like he does, instead keeping his arm tightly wrapped around the girl next to him. You don’t know her, and you wouldn’t even care if you did – you stopped caring about Sam a long time ago. But you’re still a little put off at the sight of him, and when you catch sight of Jungkook and Jimin by the backyard’s sliding door, breathing in some fresh air, you decide to join them.

Which, you reckon, is a very stupid idea. Because they are Taehyung’s friends, not yours, but they feel safer for you than being in the vicinity of Sam Hwang right now.

“Weren’t you sucking face with what’s-his-name just a second ago?” Jimin asks straight away as you stop next to them.

You snort in your cup, taking a long sip from your drink. “Maybe,” you say once you’ve swallowed.

“Tae would have killed him,” Jimin jokes, looking at Jungkook.

You don’t miss the way Jungkook’s gaze is focused on a spot on your neck, and you rub it mindlessly. 

“Good thing he’s in Paris,” you point out. “And I can trust you two to not tell him?” 

You say it like a question, though you know it’s useless. Jimin is the biggest gossip you know, and you expect Taehyung to be scolding you by the time you wake up tomorrow morning.

Though that attracts Jungkook’s attention to your face, and he meets your gaze with that same infuriating smirk he was sporting earlier. 

“Lips sealed,” he says, uselessly because both of you know that Jimin is the real danger.

Before anything else can be said, Jimin points towards the beer pong table. “Didn’t feel like playing with your friends?”

You shrug, taking another sip of rum and coke. “They don’t need me.”

“Pretty sure you’d be a liability anyway,” Jungkook teases.

Jimin and he laughs at your expanse, and you’re stuck glaring at Jungkook, right as The Incident takes the forefront of your thoughts again.

You wish it would stop haunting you. Wish it would leave you alone, because you feel like it was the cataclysm to a series of bad decisions. The first event of a butterfly effect that is threatening to push you over the edge of the cliff.

“I did get the redemption shot,” you point out, and Jungkook playfully nudges you again.

“Doesn’t count, your little boyfriend got all the other shots for you.”

Your gaze widens. “He’s not my boyfriend!” you quickly defend.

Admittedly a tad too quickly.

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, wetting his lips before playing with his piercing. “Of course not.”

You narrow your eyes at him, though you remain silent because you feel like saying something else would be far too incriminating. 

“Leave her alone,” Jimin jokes. “She did her best.” And then his gaze settles on you, and you balk at the mischief burning in his eyes. “Not her fault if her best sucks.”

“Bruh,” you let out, and you all burst out laughing.

After that, the conversation moves on easily, as you ask Jimin about his girlfriend. He starts gushing about the girl – he always does whenever Sera is mentioned. He tells you about her latest publication, and Jungkook looks bored out of his mind by the time something catches his attention, and he walks away from you and Jimin.

You watch him leave, somehow disappointed, but you entertain the conversation with Jimin for longer still. And Jimin is fun to be around, easy to talk to, and you don’t realize but an hour has passed before he glances down at his phone.

“Shit, I gotta go,” he admits. “I told Sera I wouldn’t be home too late.”

Your solo cup has been empty for half of the hour, so you raise it and say, “Go home, I’m going to get a refill.”

He hugs you goodbye, though you both walk together towards the living room. You part ways as you head to the drink table, once again scanning the room in search of your friends. They are nowhere to be seen, so you set on exploring the house after you’ve made another rum and coke for yourself. 

You find the stairs, and you head upstairs thinking they might have needed to settle in a calmer environment. Knowing Nabi, it is to be expected, yet you don’t find them anywhere upstairs. There’s a closed door leading to what you think is a bathroom, but you refuse to look in there.

You almost let out a startled yelp as it opens, and Jungkook steps out, pretty lips swollen red as he leads a girl behind him. At the sight of you, he lets go of her hand, and she looks between the two of you curiously. As both of you remain entirely silent, she furrows her brow but then dips, running a hand through her visibly tangled-up hair.

You can easily imagine what she and Jungkook were doing just a moment ago.

“Really?” you tell him.

His tongue pokes his cheek, and he laughs. “You asked me not to fuck at home anymore.”

You purse your lips, actually surprised that he took your word into account.

“Didn’t expect you would respect it.”

He doesn’t fake the offence that paints his features. “I’m not an asshole, peach.”

The nickname is said condescendingly, and you reckon you should feel a little bad. Because you’re still set on bringing Hoseok home tonight, no matter if Jungkook decided not to fuck anyone at home again.

“Sorry,” you apologize, not knowing what else to say.

Silence moves between you, and Jungkook leans against the doorframe, arms folding on his chest. He watches you carefully, as if he’s never really seen you before and, frankly, you wish he’d looked at you like this before.

It’s a treacherous thought, and you push it away as best as you can. 

“Jimin went home,” you tell him, feeling the need to fill the silence with something, anything.

Before he can reply, a group of people move upstairs, talking loudly. Jungkook pushes up from the doorframe, walking towards you.

“Do you want to go home too?” he asks when he’s right next to you.

He’s tall. You have to tilt your head back to be able to hold his gaze, and damn you, you’re hypnotized. You don’t want to look away, don’t think that you can.

“You already want to go home?” you answer, wetting your lips, and his eyes drop to your mouth.

He scoffs, as if it’s an inconvenience, before shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not drinking, I don’t see why I’d stay longer.”

Right.

“Why aren’t you drinking anyway?” you ask, genuinely curious. 

He smiles, with no hint of that infuriating smirk for once. “Got morning shift at the library tomorrow.”

The fact he works in a library still makes no sense to you. Though he’s claimed it’s because that way, it’s easy to approach all the pretty, intelligent women who don’t go to parties. Easy targets for a fuckboy like him.

“Ah,” you let out. “Well…” you glance at the group of people as they get out of the room where the coats are. When you resume your attention on Jungkook, you’re struck thinking he’s moved even closer. “My friend is supposed to sleep over, can I go find him?”

You say it innocently, and you don’t miss the way Jungkook frowns slightly. “Who?”

You force Hoseok’s name out, mostly because the way Jungkook is looking at you right now is making you want to disappear through the floor.

“Ah, the guy you played beer pong with,” Jungkook comments. “Thought he wasn’t your boyfriend.”

You furrow your brows. “He isn’t.”

A smirk grows on his lips. “Then why are you bringing him home, peach?”

Your own smirk is easy to come to your lips as you reply, “I’ll let you imagine.”

“Your brother wouldn’t approve.”

As he licks at his piercing, you can’t help but look down at his lips. “Good thing you’re not my brother then.”

He doesn’t reply, only looks over your head as you hear the unmistakable laugh of Jeong Hoseok. It makes you take a step back, and you turn to see Hoseok appearing at the top of the stairs. To your surprise, he’s accompanied by Ria, Nabi and Namjoon, but Yoongi is nowhere in sight.

Namjoon is helping Nabi walk, as she’s clearly gotten even drunker since you abandoned them downstairs. You wince at her sight, knowing she’s going to be a nightmare tomorrow. 

Ria catches sight of you and Jungkook, and her gaze widens.

“Here you are!” she shrieks. “We were looking for you everywhere.”

You don’t miss the way Hoseok looks you up and down, and you thank your stars for making this so easy. “I was thinking of heading home,” you tell the group, and you glance over your shoulder to confirm it with Jungkook.

He’s got an unreadable expression on his features, one that makes you think you’re going to enjoy your payback way too much.

When you look back to the group, it’s to see Hoseok cocking an eyebrow as if to say ‘Am I still coming?’ You nod, and you take a few steps towards him, interlocking your fingers with his. Ria watches as if it’s a scene from her favourite movie, and you all enter the room with the coats. 

You find yours in the mess on the floor, fast enough to catch sight of Jungkook as he’s waiting outside the door. You recognize his coat in the mess, so you grab it before bringing it to him.

“Here,” you tell him.

He chuckles. “Thanks, peach.”

Hoseok is next to follow, and the two guys eye each other before you hear Namjoon say, “Are you sure you’re fine with getting her home?”

You look into the room – Nabi is now lying on the bed, laughing to herself.

“Hopefully, yeah,” Ria answers. “I’ve already called an Uber.”

Namjoon is watching Nabi with a strange expression on his features when he says, “You guys are still at the dorms?”

“Yeah, we are,” Nabi slurs. “Where else would we be?”

Namjoon chuckles, and he glances your way. You immediately look away, right as he says, “I’ll come with you guys, then.”

Your thoughts head to his girlfriend for a few seconds, feeling bad for the girl, though clearly, Namjoon is just trying to be a gentleman. When you see Jungkook and Hoseok waiting patiently for you, you forget all about Nabi, Ria, Namjoon and his hypothetic girlfriend, especially as you see the not-so-genuine smile on Hoseok’s lips, and the dark look in Jungkook’s gaze.

Maybe your plan was a little too evil after all.

*****

The night is cold outside ─ arctic ─ and you wish you were drunker. That way, you’d barely feel it, but no, you’re forced to a shivering mess as you walk behind Jungkook towards his car, which he was forced to park a few streets over because of a recent snowstorm. All that can be heard is the sounds of your shoes crunching in the snow and the distant buzz of the highway. Up above, the stars twinkle in the night, and smoke moves from your mouth to create a cloud over your head.

You hate winter. Always have, and always will. Especially when it’s so cold you feel like your face will fall off, and you reckon tonight is one of the coldest nights in a while. 

Your eyes trail to Hoseok, and you smile in relief – at least your bed won’t be cold tonight.

You finally reach Jungkook’s car, and he unlocks the doors, the sound reverberating through the cold air. You sit in the back seat with Hoseok, pushing Jungkook’s gym bag to the side, and Jungkook is quick to turn on the engine, blasting the heater on. He meets your gaze in the rearview mirror as he waits for the engine to be warm enough to actually start driving. 

For a moment, you forget Hoseok is next to you. All you can focus on is Jungkook’s gaze. Where it’s usually wide, big and innocent, his eyes are narrowed now, as if he’s eyeing you. Judging you, even. Judging your choices, and you think he’s full of shit for it – he’s the first one to fuck around whenever he has the opportunity, after all.

A moment later, he deems the car finally ready, and he looks away, focusing on the street instead. He turns up the music on the stereo, and you watch as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. You do so until you feel Hoseok’s hand landing on your thigh, which attracts your attention to him.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Hoseok says, not too loud, but clearly Jungkook hears because his fingers stop tapping on the wheel.

You smile, glancing down at Hoseok’s lips. They look chapped from the cold, yet when he smiles that bright smile of his back, you can’t help but think they are still inviting.

“Please don’t judge the state of the apartment,” you whisper, leaning closer to him. “This idiot doesn’t know how to –“

Jungkook slams the brakes, and you whip your head towards him as the aftershock sends you back into your seat. His eyes are gleaming with barely concealed mischief, and the infuriating smirk graces his lips.

“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t seem apologetic at all.

You roll your eyes, but that kills the conversation until you arrive at your apartment, which thankfully isn’t too far away from the party. Jungkook parks out front, and you all file out of the car, walking up the stairs to your door. You unlock it while the two men stand next to you, and you’re not sure what’s colder – them, or the actual winter night.

You’re not sure you want to know the answer either.

Warm air wraps you in its embrace as you open the door and step in, and you quickly shut it after the two men to make sure the cold doesn’t come in too much. By the time you’ve turned back around, Jungkook’s already halfway to his bedroom.

“Good night,” he says over his shoulder. 

For some reason, you expected him to be more of an ass about the situation, but you’re reduced to thinking he actually doesn’t care all that much. You watch him until he disappears in his room before your eyes slide to Hoseok.

He’s been observing you all this time, and the moment your eyes meet, he smiles.

“We can hang our coats in the closet,” you tell him as you unzip yours, and he follows your motion.

You grab a hanger for him, handing it to him before taking off your coat and hanging it. Once that is done, you head towards your room, pit-stopping in the kitchen to grab glasses of water. You reckon you didn’t expect him to be so silent, and it makes you slightly uncomfortable.

Even when you’re in your room, and you’ve plugged in your fairy lights, Hoseok still doesn’t say a thing. 

“You good?” you ask him, doing your best to calm your sudden nerves.

Was it a good idea to bring him here after all?

He grins, nodding once. “The apartment isn’t as messy as you let it sound like.”

Not expecting that at all, you let out a small laugh. But he isn’t wrong – out of the three of you, Taehyung is by far the messiest. And now that he is gone, Jungkook and you have managed to keep the apartment tidy and clean, though sometimes Jungkook does leave some dirty dishes around.

“Oh,” you let out, and you chuckle. “Yeah, we cleaned this week.”

Last Wednesday, actually. Right before Jungkook had his pussy appointment, it turns out.

Hoseok looks around, and you gaze at his honey skin for a time. It looks warm in the lights, and his smile is still just as blinding when he offers it to you.

“Like your room.”

You scan it as if you haven’t lived here for months now. You’ve brought most of the stuff you had at home – except your collection of plushies. Polaroid pictures of you growing up are hung on threads over your desk, which is a little messy from the project you were working on yesterday. Your laptop lays there unattended, screen black, and you walk over to shut it absentmindedly. 

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” you tell him, and you don’t have time to turn around for him to put his hand on your hip like he was doing earlier at the party. 

You take a long swig of water, before putting the glass down on your desk. Hoseok imitates you, and then his other hand finds a home on your waist.

“Feels like you,” he whispers, head dipping down so he can say the words in your ear.

You shiver, eyes fluttering shut, as he moves your hair out of the way before kissing on the hickey he sucked on your skin at the party.

“Yeah?” you breathe out.

He nods, and you feel him move against your neck. He pulls you closer, and your breath itches in your throat when you feel his dick against your ass.

“Fuck,” he curses. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you again for so long.” He nibbles at your earlobe, and one of his hands moves to your neck, holding you firmly into place. “But you had to run away, thinking you knew me. Baby,” he pauses, as his fingers dig in your arteries, making your head swim with the lack of oxygen, “you don’t know me at all. And I’m going to fucking punish you for it tonight. Understood?”

He releases his hold on your neck, and you suck in a sharp breath. “Yes.”

“Mmh?”

You know exactly what he wants, and it makes your insides boil again. “Yes, sir.”

He smirks against you, before biting at the skin of your neck. “You’ll be a good little slut for me?”

You nod, entirely unable to form a sentence. You’ve completely forgotten that the goal of tonight is to make Jungkook pay for how he’s been having loud sex. All you can think about right now is the man behind you.

“Then turn around, baby. Strip out of your clothes.”

You obey, mostly because Hoseok brings out a submissive part of you that just craves to do what he wants. Yes, you’ve always been more on the submissive side. But with other people, you can’t help the brat in you.

You fear being a brat with Hoseok would be a very dangerous game to play.

You don’t break the eye contact as you take off your clothes, slowly. He doesn’t look away from you, though he wets his lips as if the sight of you is making him hungry. 

Hoseok has a duality you have rarely seen before. Where he is an incredibly sweet person in his regular life, his bedroom self turns into a demon, a force to be reckoned with. No wonder sex with him is always so good.

When you’re finally naked, panties pooling around your ankles, Hoseok offers you a smirk. He doesn’t say anything, but he slowly undoes his belt, before motioning for you to get closer.

Only one step separates you from him, and then you’re standing right in front of him. He raises his hand, making you tilt your head back, and then he captures your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You can’t help but moan when he swats the belt at your side, the leather making your skin tingle. He pushes his tongue in your mouth, and your hands instinctively grab onto the hem of his shirt.

“Nu-uh,” he tuts, making you let go of it. “Get on your knees, baby.”

You drop to your knees, eyes darting to the bulge in his pants once before he makes you tilt your head back again. You gulp, right as he wraps his belt around your neck until the buckle is pressing against your skin. He doesn’t make it tight enough to hurt, but your hands still shake a little at being so vulnerable in front of him.

“You remember the safe word?” he asks.

“Red.”

He nods appreciatively. “And if you can’t speak, you tap my leg, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck you look so good like this.”

Not knowing if you can touch him, you just smile up at him, wetting your lips.

“Want to get a taste of me?”

You already know where this is going to lead. Hoseok fucked your mouth more than once in the three months you had casual sex with him. So you answer, “I want you to come down my throat.”

He smirks. “Good girl.”

With his free hand, he unbuttons his pants, before pushing them down his legs. He doesn’t step out of them, instead palming himself through his boxers. You watch the imprint of his dick, salivating at the sight, especially as precum is already wetting the fabric.

Hoseok doesn’t have a particularly big dick. But whenever he fucks you, it feels like he’s the biggest you’ve ever had, mostly because he knows how to use it. Knows how to move and snap his hips in a way that makes you think you’re seeing into the future. It also makes it so sucking his dick doesn’t hurt your jaw too much, so you’re able to do it for a longer period of time.

Tonight, you have an inkling that you’ll be doing it for a while.

He pushes his underwear down, freeing his dick. Your eyes drop to it, not surprised to see the angry, swollen tip. He looks like he’s about to burst, but you know it’s a trick of the eye – Hoseok has more stamina than one would think.

Holding the base of his dick, he brings the tip closer to your face. Your mouth falls open, expecting him to push his cock in, but he instead taps your cheek with it.

“I want to ruin you,” he says in a low voice. “I want you to never be able to fuck another guy because you still think of me.”

You gulp, tongue darting to wet your lips. He gets the cue, and he brings his dick to your mouth. You don’t hesitate before licking at his slit, the salty taste of his precum filling your mouth. You then wrap your lips around the head, giving a tentative suck as your tongue plays with the underside of it.

He grunts, cocking his head to the side. And then he starts pulling on the belt – just a little, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it so it’s a tad harder to breathe. He’s usually pretty safe in his sex practices, but you feel like this could be dangerous.

You only then understand what he really meant by punishing you, and it makes your pussy drip on your thighs.

You moan around his dick, before slowly pushing forward until he hits the back of your throat, and your eyes water. You swallow around him, keeping the gag reflex at bay as he circles his hips. You pull away from his cock to move to his balls instead, still not using your hands as you lick at the spot between them, licking up his dick at the same time.

“Hands on me, baby,” he commands.

As per usual, you obey. One of your hands moves to fondle his balls, and the other wraps around the base of his cock so you can jerk him off as you suck. And then you get to work, eyes shutting as you concentrate on pulling grunts out of him.

He doesn’t let you do it for a long time. He’s quick to pull on the belt more – it’s a leash more than a belt, is it? – which makes you pull away, lips parted as you struggle to suck in some air.

“Eyes on me,” he tells you. “I want to see you cry as you choke on my dick.”

When he guides his cock back towards your mouth, you keep your eyes on him, ever so a good girl, and you let him thrust in your mouth. The first two times he does it, your gag reflex doesn’t show up, but the third time you gag, spit rolling on your chin as he pulls away. A line of drool connects his tip to your mouth, and it breaks as he once again taps his cock on your cheek. Tears water your eyes, and he watches you blink them away, slightly shaking his head in disapproval.

You know that was your last chance when he pushes his dick in your mouth again, establishing a steady yet hard rhythm that has your gaze blurring. You moan against him, right as he grunts, whispering filthy curses entwined with mentions of your name. And when he starts going faster, the sounds of you choking get louder. It’s indecent, pornographic, and tears roll on your cheeks as he throws his head back, grunting loudly.

“Fuck, baby.”

He stops at the back of your throat, looking down at you. He wipes some tears on your cheeks as you swallow around him. His dick twitches inside your mouth, but you know he’s not about to come.

Soon, perhaps, but not just yet.

“You’re okay?” he asks, because even though he’s pretty rough, he always does care about his partner too. 

He lets you pull away to catch your breath, releasing his tight hold on the belt too. You breathe raggedly, throat feeling raw from the intrusion.

“Yes,” you breathe out. 

“Good.” He licks his lips, offering you a dangerous chuckle. “You’re going to let me come down your throat?”

You nod, and he taps the tip of his dick against your sealed lips. You don’t remember shutting your mouth, so you open it wide again for him. He pushes forward, slowly, until all of it is embedded in your mouth, head pushing against the back of your throat. He remains unmoving long enough for you to gag, and then he pushes forward even more before pulling back.

When he starts fucking your mouth again, you know he’s chasing his high. So you fondle his balls, moan around his dick, try not to choke whenever he hits the back of your throat. Evidently, you still do sometimes, and tears roll down your cheeks by the time he growls, “Open your throat up for me, baby”.

You moan one last time, as he pushes all the way to the back of your mouth, grunting loudly as hot spurts of his cum fills your throat. As his dick twitches, he pulls out a little, and you know better than to swallow right away. So you patiently wait as he finishes, before fully pulling away. 

He grabs your jaw, and forces you to tilt your head back. “Open up.” You do, and he spits on top of his cum before saying, “Swallow”. You do that too, and the next time you open your mouth, it’s fully empty. Only then does he let go of your jaw, and he also quickly takes his belt off from around your neck, letting it drop to the floor.

It falls with a loud thump, and you breathe in deeply for the first time in a while. Your throat aches, and you massage your neck where the buckle left an indent in your skin. Concern grows on his features as you chuckle awkwardly, getting up from the floor.

Your knees are already hurting, and you know you’ll have bruises by the time you wake up tomorrow.

“Is your neck okay?” he asks.

You drop your hand, and his fingers ghost over the spot. “Yeah,” you reassure him. “It’ll be okay.”

“Good.” He smirks, and then he captures your lips in another heated kiss. One of his hands moves between your thighs, and he feels your wetness, groaning in satisfaction. “You’re dripping for me,” he says as he pulls away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“I am.”

He licks at your mouth, before saying, “Too bad you won’t be getting some tonight, mmh?”

And he moves his hand away from your core to settle it on your waist instead.

“What?” you let out.

At this, he laughs, and it’s a little mean. “You think I’ll make you come when you’ve ghosted me for a few months?” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Nah, you’re going to have to work for it, baby.”

You want to curse him, but somehow it just turns you on further. “When can I see you again then?”

He ponders for a time, pulling away so he can meet your gaze. “What about next weekend?”

You’re disappointed, but you try not to let it show. “Any chance you’d be available during the week?”

“Maybe,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “Will you be nice and not touch yourself until then?”

You bite at your bottom lip, nodding once. 

“Then yes, we can hang out this week,” he concludes. He frees your lip from your teeth with his thumb, before gently tapping your cheek. “But I’ve got to go now.”

It surprises you. Back when you were friends with benefits, you always stayed the night at his place, so you expected him to stay tonight. But he immediately steps away from you, putting his clothes back on quickly as you just stand there, naked and awkward.

“You’re leaving?”

He glances at you as he’s putting his belt back on. “Yeah, won’t have you think I’m into you like that again.”

It hurts just a tad little bit, but at the same time you agree with him. Not sleeping over is a good way to avoid feelings, so you decide to throw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweater so you can walk him to the front door.

Hoseok kisses your forehead once when you get there, before grabbing his coat. You watch as he slides his arms in it, draping it on his shoulders before he bends down to put his shoes on too. When he straightens, he offers you a hug and you gladly embrace him as he wishes you good night.

You’re somehow confused as you shut the door behind him, and you stay there for a few seconds, almost expecting him to come back. He doesn’t, and you’re left heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth, only so you can get rid of the taste of him, and then you head to your bedroom.

And as you lie awake in bed, the only thing you can hope is that Jungkook didn’t hear you after all. You’re ashamed of what you did, but you’re far too tired to think about it deeply. All you can do is stare at the wall in front of you, hoping that sleep will take you.

It doesn’t, not until the early hours of the morning, when the sun is starting to kiss the horizon, turning the sky to liquid gold.

Teaser | Chapter 1.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

So? Do we like it? Do we not? Let me know what you thought of the first chapter!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

Taglist: (strike-through means dumblr isn't letting me tag you)

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[crazilust]

What main character energy should you embody for this next chapter

From left to right : Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3.

Pile 1

confirmation/what’s coming instinctively : Brown eyes, brown, guitar, vynils, green shoes, docs, bangs, rings (lots of them, Virgo/Earth energy, hardwood floors, The Emperor, Goddess energy, Water sign, Water dom, Loves water, loves nature, loves animals, Names that start with a J, F, P, S

the message :

You should embody the main character that moves out of her town to start her character ark. Now, this doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll physicall leave your town (although, you might!) but you definitely need to leave some things behind. I’m sensing friends, maybe even family members. Your environement is getting too small for you, which is maybe why I’m getting small town vibes. You are someone that needs a lot of recognition, even from yourself and you’re not getting any where you are right now. Are you proud of yourself? I doubt it. But you need to make the proper steps to find your place in this universe and there is a place for you but you need to look for it! I see you in a new apartment, maybe a bit lonely at first, but it’s because it’ll be the first time you really get to know yourself and discovering your true self. You have been repressing your true taste, your true interests, your true self with those people you’ve been surrounding yourself with. It’s not healthy and it’s getting dangerous at this point cause you’re starting to lose yourself. Leave. That would be my advice for you.

Pile 2

confirmation/ what i’m getting instinctively: Fighter, Orange is the new black, Piper Chapman, Blue, Glacier, Grey, long hair, fake smile, dimples, the emperor Reversed, bad relationships with caregivers, siblings, many friends, Aquarius, Pisces, car, driving, roadtrip, name that starts with M, N, X, V.

the message :

Woah! Okay! Love this energy, but hard to catch honestly. You don’t like being seen, huh? It’s okay, me neither! The journey you should embark on is the one where you’re gonna get thrown into an environment that is completely unfamiliar to you. A bit like pile 1 in the sense that it’s not something you’re used to, but contrary to that pile, you don’t decide to go into this environment, you’ll get thrown into it. I can sense you have some sort of anger issues and this will be the perfect environment to finally let it out. I can feel that although you have a very polished appearance, you actually feel like a wild animal inside. In this new environment, you’ll finally face yourself as you really are. You won’t be able to fake it, or to act like you’ve always done it. It won’t be possible anymore. You’ll have to be your real self, even tho it might disappoint people around you. Oh, you probably don’t want that. Too bad, because you will disappoint people, but you’ll make some real connections out there. When you’ll get out of that environment (because yes, it is temporary I feel), you’ll look back and won’t even recognize yourself. I think you’re quite excited for that. Deep down.

Pile 3

confirmation/what i’m getting instinctively: Twilight, Bella Swan, break up, torture, painful love, toxic love, mean, smiles with bad intentions, agenda, skinny, long hands, pale (or pale for your ethnicity), doesn’t like their hair, Aries/Taurus/Sag/Pisces, Fire dom, Neptune dom, Jupiter Dom, lucky but fails to see it

the message : Oh I’m getting major Bella Swan vibes lmao. Not necessarily her temperament, but mostly what she’s going thru. You’ve been thru a bad breakup and that person has left you empty inside. You find yourself staring at the window, and wondering why it ended the way it did. Stop obsessing over the past. You’re at a point of your journey where you need to change gear. You cannot keep going like that or you’ll litteraly become a shell of yourself. Get up of your bed, take a deep breath, take a walk. Anything. But reminiscing on someone that is gone, won’t do any good. Btw, they’re gone now but they’ll come back. I know you’re excited, but they’ll come back when you won’t care and then you’ll be like : “huh, i don’t even see what I saw in you anymore”. It’ll be a very satisfying feeling for you. In the meantime, cause you’re not there yet, focus on healing. See some friends, get into a hobby. Anything that could take your mind off of him. Why do you fixate over him? Was he something he did? Or didn’t do? Focus on moving on. That’s your journey for now. That’s the part of movie where we all root and get excited for the protagonist to get on her two feet. That’s your part. You got this.

• 🧡🍯👑🐰🪀 •

and that’s all from me folks, thank you so much 🧡

[pforest282]

Another voice?!? Of course, of course. On the day Mario left him alone in the house. Intruders! Maybe they’d leave him alone after some cannolis?

<...>

“Oh! Hi, Mr. Loogy!” 

“J-Junior?!?” Luigi met the child’s beaming smile for only a second, until a scaly fist slammed the door open, sending Junior’s snout straight into the wall.

And now onwards to Arc 2! To start things off with a bang, @rachelordwayart created honestly something I could stare at for hours (which I literally have during editing lmao). The attention to detail is crazy (which I might make separate posts just of particular screenshots). And as always, if you'd like the context, here's chapter 6 of 'Ashes That Made the Trees Bloom'

[eternalmoonlight18]

Please Please Please (Don't Prove 'Em Right) Chapter 4

Trafaglar Law x afab Female!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Warnings: usage of the b word

Summary:

You are the Heart Pirates' beloved cook and sniper. However, you were also an insufferable troublemaker who always seemed to get on Law's nerves. He swears he's going to get rid of you one day, but as much as he hates it, why does he find you fascinating? Was it because you reminded him of someone he was greatly fond of?

As your relationship with Law grows, he only hopes you don't fucking embarrass him. After all, he has an image to uphold as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

This story starts off as short stories between (Y/N), Law and the Heart Pirates, then picks up into the One Piece canon timeline, starting from Punk Hazard. This is a slow-burn Law x Female Reader story!

Updates every Sunday!

Cross-posted in Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57651295/chapters/146705491

Chapter 4: I Forgot to Put In My Two Weeks In and Now My Former Boss Is Trying to Kill Me

Chapter summary: The day after Law's birthday celebration, the Heart Pirates and Kid Pirates run into each other. Law and Kid were already rivals, but when Kid finds out that his former cook and sniper is now a Heart Pirate, he doesn't take that information lightly.

Notes: The Kid Pirates are here! Also, there is a slight Killer x Reader if you squint (more like a one-sided love lol). I think this is my favourite chapter LMAO

I also created a taglist. Let me know if you want to be a part of it!

wc: 3.3k

The sun was rising to start a new day on a tropical island at the Grand Line Paradise. After a raucous evening of celebrating Captain Law's birthday, the crew was passed out on the floor of the local pub. The rays of the sun started to peep through the windows of the pub, and the crew was slowly beginning to wake up. You were sleeping next to the captain with your head on his left shoulder, who was sitting up in the corner. You slowly blinked your eyes, desperately trying to focus your vision as you scanned around the room. Realizing that you were leaning against Law, you quickly scrambled to get up. However, that was a bad idea because your head was pounding from a hangover.

"Ah fuck." you groaned as you got up. With hands on your head, you staggered to find a nearby chair and sat down. You sighed deeply as you remembered what happened last night.

“I really appreciate you, for everything that you are. Happy Birthday, Captain Law.” you had said.

Suddenly, your entire body started to heat up. You banged your head on the table in front of you out of embarrassment.

"Why did I say that? That was basically a confession..." you mumbled.

It felt stuffy in the room full of pirates passed out on the floor, so you decided to step outside for some fresh air. As soon as you stepped out, the sun's warm rays hit your face. You squinted as you observed the quiet town, hearing the birds chirp and the gentle breeze brush against the trees. Taking a deep breath, you took this rare moment of peace and savoured it. After a few minutes, you decided to head back to the Polar Tang. As you were nearing the submarine, you also noticed that there was a ship to the far right of the dock. It looked familiar.

Too familiar.

It was the Victoria Punk.

That means...

"Eustass Kid is here?!" you whispered harshly. Kid was your former captain when you used to be a cook, but you had to run away because the food you made was accidentally poisoned, almost killing Kid. Sweat started to form on your forehead as you rapidly whipped your head back and forth to see if any of the Kid Pirates were around. Once you saw that the coast was clear, you ran back into town to warn the captain.

You were one building away from the pub when you suddenly heard two familiar voices ahead. You took one look and your blood ran cold. It was Wire and Heat.

By now, you were positively panicking and fully freaking out. To avoid being seen, you ran to your right and hid in a nearby alleyway. You crouched behind some wooden crates and waited until the two Kid Pirates members walked past.

"What are you doing here?" a deep voice whispered behind you.

You dismissed the voice you heard, thinking that it was a townsfolk. "Hiding from the Kid Pirates. I have a rough history with them."

You heard a chuckle. "Is that so? How come?" the voice asked.

Sighing, you rubbed your temples. "I used to be part of their crew, but I ditched since I accidentally food-poisoned their captain."

"Oh yeah, the captain wants you dead." he teased.

Annoyed at the 'townsperson', you turned around to retaliate, only to find yourself staring at a pair of legs with blue jeans on. You slowly glanced up and saw that they were wearing a blue shirt with a jolly roger that looked familiar. They were also very ripped, with their muscles protruding through the shirt that you swore it was going to rip. Then you finally glanced up to see that they were wearing a blue and white mask with holes.

"Oh no." you thought. This was no townsfolk, this was-

"Killer!?" you screamed in shock. You rapidly got up to run away from the second in command of the Kid Pirates, but he crouched down, pushed you down with him and placed his large hand over your mouth, muffling your scream.

You glanced at the small crack of space between the crate and wall and saw that Wire and Heat were standing in front of the alleyway, looking at Killer.

"Hey Kil, what are you doing?" Wire asked.

"Yeah, who's that? We heard someone scream your name so we went to check out what was happening." Heat added on.

Your eyes drifted back to the masked man in front of you. You attempted to squirm and crawl away, but Killer pushed you further down to the ground.

"Just a thief who tried to rob me. It's fine," he answered back to his crew-mates.

Wire and Heat looked at each other and shrugged. They proceeded to walk away, continuing their conversation.

Killer released his hand from your mouth and stood up. He looked down at you and saw that you were catching your breath.

You glared up at the man. "Why did you lie to save me? Knowing you, you would've run to Kid and snitched that I was here." you suspiciously asked.

The blond tilted his head. "Do you really think of me as Kid's pet dog?"

Lifting yourself off the ground, you leaned up against the wall and smirked at him. "You are basically his dog since you're always so obedient when following orders. Anyways, are you fond of me or something? Did you miss me?" you teased.

There was a pregnant pause before Killer responded.

"I always was fond of you," he said.

You blinked in confusion before he continued, "The whole crew was. I- we missed you." he continued.

A light pink hue showed up on the side of his neck but you failed to notice it.

"Great whatever thanks. Now be a gentleman and go away and pretend that you never saw me. I'd prefer it that Kid doesn't find out that I'm here." you muttered, ignoring the masked man's sudden confession.

Killer glanced at your boiler suit "Or, you don't want him to find out that you joined his number one rival's crew." he commented.

"Hey, they treated me way better than those brutes on the Victoria Punk. Captain Law treats me way better than Kid does," you argued.

"Even with those ridiculous pranks of yours? I know that you didn't stop doing them now that you're with a different crew." Killer playfully questioned. You swore that you could sense that he was smiling under that mask of his.

"Yup!" you said, putting your hands on your hips with pride. "I even hang out with Captain Law now, and he doesn't treat me like garbage."

The blond man looked at you. You felt his eyes observe the unusually excited expression on your face. He saw that your eyes lit up when you talked about the Surgeon of Death.

"Hey (Y/n), do you like Law?" He straightforwardly asked.

A deep blush appeared on your cheeks. You looked towards your side, trying to avoid eye contact (you can't see his eyes). "W-what? What are you talking abo-"

"(Y/N)?!!" someone bellowed.

You and Killer froze and looked at the entrance of the alleyway. There stood a very angry red-haired man with a mechanical left arm. If looks could kill, you would be long dead by now.

The day just started and someone already wanted to kill you. It was a pirate's life after all.

"H-hey Captain Kid, l-long time no see!" you stuttered as you attempted to defuse the situation.

Kid's nostrils were expanded like a bull as he heaved in and out. His eyes twitched at the sight of his first mate and best friend getting chummy over an ex-crewmate.

The red-haired man took one stomp forward and it was a sign for you to get out there. You pushed Killer away from you and dashed further into the alleyway.

"Killer! Don't just stand there, get that bitch!" Kid yelled.

The masked man sighed. He couldn't disobey his captain, so he dashed off to find you.

You ran until you saw the back door of the pub. Using your pistol, you shot at the door three times and kicked it down. You rushed inside and screamed at the top of your lungs to wake up your crewmates. They all slowly got up and groaned, clearly displeased at your screaming. Law was already awake eating breakfast at a nearby table with Penguin and Shachi, They winced when they heard you barge in and scream.

The captain sighed. "(Y/n)-ya, it's too early for your nonsense." he calmly said as he continued to eat.

You stumbled towards Law, grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "This is no-nonsense captain! T-the Kid Pirates! They're here and they're going to kill me!" you hissed at him.

That statement got the tattooed captain suddenly alert. His eyes shot up at you as he suddenly got up from his chair, grabbing Kikoku, which was leaning on the table.

"Kid Pirates?! Here? And they want to kill you? What did you do to piss them off?!" he hissed back at you.

"I-" you started, but suddenly stopped because you realized that you never told Law that you used to be a part of Kid's crew.

The front door of the pub suddenly split into pieces, revealing a very, very angry Eustass Kid. You ran to the bar area and hid behind the bar table.

"You little bitch! You can't hide from me!" he bellowed. He turned his head to the right and saw Law glaring at him, which pissed him off even more.

"What are you doing here Trafalgar?!" he yelled.

"I could ask you the same thing Eustass-ya." Law calmly retorted.

"I came to this island to restock before heading into the New World, but I ran into a bitch who used to be a part of my crew." he sneered.

Law tilted his head in confusion. "Former crewmate?" he asked.

Kid growled as he marched up to Law. "What's it to ya?! Getting all nosy in my business? That girl who just hopped behind the bar table used to be my cook!"

The doctor's tattooed fingers squeezed around Kikoku. "(Y/n)-ya used to be on your crew?" he lowly said.

You peeked up at the table only to find Kid and Law sending you a death glare your way. You slowly got up and gave a nervous laugh.

"H-hey, so funny story captain..." you said, as you nervously scratched your cheek.

"Cut the bullshit (Y/n)-ya! You joined my crew and didn't tell me that you were previously associated with Kid?!" Law yelled at you.

"WHAT?! YOU JOINED TRAFALGAR'S CREW?" Kid also yelled at you.

The room was filled with tension. The Heart Pirates were silently observing the exchange between you, Law and Kid. You slowly lowered yourself down to hide behind the bar table once again.

"Room." you suddenly heard Law say.

Realizing that you were about to be teleported away from hiding, you scrambled to run away.

"Shambles."

You should've kept those sea prism cuffs on him.

As soon as you were teleported to Law's side, you attempted to run away. However, Law foresaw this and grabbed the collar of your boiler suit.

"Explain yourself here (Y/n)-ya before I behead you," he ordered. So much for the tender moment you shared with him the night before.

You grumbled as you faced Law and Kid. "Alright fine. Before I joined your crew, I was in Kid's crew. I was their chef. I accidentally food-poisoned Kid and ran away because he was going to kill me." you explained.

"You don't just accidentally poison someone with food you rat, you legitimately tried to kill me!" Kid shouted at you, not believing your explanation.

Law grip on your collar tightened. "If you're going to shout at someone Eustass, shout at me." he lowly said.

"Stay out of me and my cook's business Trafalgar." Kid sneered back.

Law took a step forward towards Kid and grabbed his black wifebeater. "(Y/n)-ya is NOT your cook!" he argued.

You smirked. "Yeah Kid, I already joined the Heart Pirates. You all miss my cooking that badly?" you teased the red-hair.

Kid broke his glare away from Law and squinted at you. "Your cooking was shit!" he retorted.

"Puh-lease, I bet after I left you guys were eating dog food since none of you guys can cook for shit!" you shot back.

Killer, who was standing where the front door used to be the entire time, spoke up. "Uh actually, I became the cook after you left. I'm pretty decent at cooking," he muttered.

"SHUT UP!" you and Kid yelled at him.

You sighed. This mess had to stop now before an actual fight broke out. You walked up and wedged in between your captain and Kid. You gently pushed the angry redhead away, much to his annoyance.

"Alright, Kid. I should have apologized to you instead of running away. I'm sorry for food poisoning you." you apologized to him.

The apology, even though it was half-assed, seemed to deflate Kid's anger a bit. He stared long and hard at you before he spoke up. "Whatever, get back on the ship," he ordered.

The Surgeon of Death didn't seem to like that. "Hey Eustass-ya, for your information in case your smooth brain didn't get it, (Y/n)-ya is part of my crew now. So get lost." he scoffed.

"Are you looking for a fight Trafalgar?! (Y/n) is my cook and she belongs to my crew so beat it!" Kid scowled. He started to march up towards you and Law.

You put your arms out and attempted to shove Kid back. "H-hey, let's not fight here okay? Let's actually not fight at all! Let's talk this out like proper pirates we are!" you said with fake cheerfulness.

In the background, Hakugan stiffened a laugh. "Oh man, this is entertaining," he said.

"I agree, seeing captain fight over (Y/n)-ya is kind of cute." Shachi agreed.

"Yeah, he never really stands up for anyone in the crew. He really has a soft spot for her." Penguin said.

"You guys ...we should be helping the captain right now!" Bepo urged nervously,

Ikkaku laughed and patted Bepo's back. "Everything's fine Bepo! Let's just see what happens!" she reassured the mink.

Meanwhile, Kid pushed you aside to the front of the bar. You stumbled and landed on your butt. "You asshole, you didn't need to shove me!" you scowled at Kid.

The redhead ignored you and grabbed Law's white wifebeater. "You have my cook. She belongs to my crew and she's coming back with me now." he lowly growled.

The tattooed doctor scowled at him. "She's not going back to you. Leave this bar Eustass-ya, you are not taking my girl," he said.

The entire room suddenly became quiet. It took everyone three seconds to process what Law said, even Law himself.

"MY GIRL?!" the entire crew yelled in surprise.

You were a blushing mess. Glancing up at your captain, you saw that his ears were red from embarrassment.

"He called me his girl?" you thought.

Meanwhile, Kid and Killer were not amused. The blond masked man suddenly walked inside towards Law, but you stuck out your leg and tripped him on the ground, landing face (mask?) first. The Massacre Soldier promptly got up and glared at you.

The red-haired captain shoved Law up against the wall. "My girl? I see you got all chummy with my cook huh?" he hissed.

"Of course, she's my girl, just like how she's part of my crew. I own my crew." the doctor tried to clear up.

By now, the Heart Pirates were ready to fight. The rest of the Kid Pirates showed up as well, crowding up to the front of the pub.

You nervously whipped your head around. This was not the ideal situation, and you had to get the crew out of there fast.

An idea popped into your head. A very stupid idea.

"Everybody, RUN!" you screamed.

The next five minutes were a blur. As soon as you told everyone to run, the entire bar erupted into chaos. Kid punched Law in the face, and Law proceeded to 'ROOM' the entire bar and teleport the entire crew out. Killer barked orders to chase after the Heart Pirates, and soon enough, the once quiet morning turned into a pirate brawl out in the streets.

You attempted to escape the brawl but were held down by Killer, who shoved you into the ground. However, you maneuvered your leg up so you could kick Killer in the stomach. You quickly picked yourself up and pointed your pistol at him. Seeing that you were one step ahead of him, the masked man raised his hands in defeat.

Killer chuckled. "So you and Law huh? It didn't take long either." he teased.

You huffed as you gripped your pistol tighter. "W-what are you talking about? I told you there's nothing between me and the captain!" you shot back.

The Massacre Soldier slowly walked up to you amidst the chaos. "If I had known that this would happen, I wouldn't have let you escape," he murmured.

You found yourself unable to move as Killer stopped in front of you. He lowered his face down to your level, and you swore you could see his eyes through the holes in the mask. Then he suddenly grabbed your waist and pulled you close to you, with his right hand resting on the back of your head. "I told you, I was always fond of you (Y/n)." he lowly said against your ear.

But before you could react, Killer was violently shoved off of you, and he flew several meters back. Your captain was suddenly in front of you, heaving heavily as he shot the deadliest glare you've ever seen at the masked man. Then he yelled to the crew; "Everyone back at the Polar Tang!"

The pirates abruptly stopped the fight and then proceeded to run. The Kid Pirates started to run too. Law grabbed your left arm and hoisted you up, urging you to run as well. The two of you proceeded to run as Law tightly gripped onto your arm.

"Hey, captain! I had never seen that angry before! Did Killer do something to offend you?" you breathlessly asked as you ran.

The captain didn't glance at you. "Just shut up and run! All of this is your fault! My birthday turned into the worst day ever because the Eustass-ya is here!" he shouted at you.

"That's not nice captain, you were so nice to me yesterday!" you pouted.

"Now's not the time (Y/N)-ya!" Law countered back at you. You failed to notice the light tinge of red that donned on his ears.

You heartily laughed. By hearing your laugh, Law couldn't help but smirk, regardless of this ridiculous situation you put him in.  As you, Law and the rest of the Heart Pirates rushed back to the submarine, you couldn't help but think about how every day was a fun day with your favourite crew.

"You are not taking my girl." Law's voice replayed in your head.

A light giggle escaped your lips. One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea called you his girl and you were definitely not complaining.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bonus Scene:

"Killer, this tastes like shit." Kid complained.

"Yeah, man. Also, do you have to cook spaghetti every day?" Wire also complained.

"Shut up and eat your food. We tried to get (Y/n) back but failed, so you're going to have to deal with my cooking from now on." Killer snapped back, as he sat down with his plate of food.

The redhead glanced at his second command. "You seem more upset about this than I am. What gives?" Kid asked.

Heat poked his fork at Killer's helmet. "Isn't it obvious captain? Killer has a thing for (Y/n)!" he teased.

"Eat your goddamn food," the masked man grumbled. The table of Kid Pirate officers erupted in laughter.

The Kid Pirates were going to miss your cooking, but no one was going to miss you more than Killer.

[skzdarlings]

08. sharing a bed series ; skz ; i.n.

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 8/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: yang jeongin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers(&friends2lovers?), sharing a bed trope. reader is older than him but exact age difference is not mentioned. reader was previously married and the ex-husband is described as bad to her, though there are no detailed specifications of exactly what went on. reader going thru some growth, being rude to jeongin, resolving it. the sex is playfully rough, reader mentions "mafia" style romance novels for inspo lmao but it stays pretty tame considering that.

last chapter of the series :)

-

Of course it’s raining.  On top of everything else that went wrong, of course a torrential downpour would hit your party.   

There is a large expanse of wood on the vast acreage behind your house.   To break some of the social tension, someone suggested playing hide and seek in the woods on the property.   It wasn’t part of your plan but seeing as the party’s awkward tension was your fault, you agreed that an outside game sounded like fun.  With the springtime sun beaming down on you and your friends, it seemed like a fine afternoon diversion. 

You were already deep into the woods when the storm started.  You strayed farther from the main path, confident in your familiarity with the terrain.  It did you little good when the weather took a turn.  The rain was not slow-coming but an immediate sheet slamming into the ground like blocks of solid concrete.  You could barely see in front of you and the uneven earth quickly turned to a muddy sludge.  Unsurprisingly, you slipped and twisted your ankle.

Now you are stranded, alone in the forest and far away from everyone else, shivering in the pouring rain as your wispy white dress was not designed for such fickle weather. 

You seldom let your emotions get the better of you but today you let yourself cry.  The tears come as rapidly as the rain, leaving you gasping and shuddering.  You stumble towards a tree and slouch against it, trying to take the weight off your hurt ankle.   You doubt anyone would hear you screaming over the storm and from this far away, and you don’t have a phone because this stupid dress doesn’t have pockets so you left it behind. 

You are crying against the tree when rescue comes in the form of the last person you want to see. 

You lift your head to Jeongin.  He is also drenched but the thick denim of his overalls covers most of his body and his heavy-duty sneakers are marginally better than your flats.  His glasses are streaked with raindrops and his black hair is a mop on his head.   Still, he sees through the foggy glass and the messy bangs, his expression one of surprise and concern. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks without hesitation, because of course he does.  Jeongin is a good person.   You have never met anyone as genuinely sweet as him.  The guy is all dimple, his eyes constantly scrunched up with glee, always ready with a humorous comment and a steady hand on a friend’s shoulder. 

He also has every reason in the world to hate you.  You have done everything in your power to push him away, treating him like an enemy, no doubt convincing him of it.  

He never stooped to your level.  You are older by a few good years but you have undoubtedly been the immature one.  You wouldn’t blame him for abandoning you now.    

He doesn’t do that.   He rushes toward you, leading with his hand outstretched. 

“Where does it hurt?” he asks loudly over the rain. 

The emotional parts of you are especially vulnerable right now.  When he asks that, you stupidly want to gesture to your heart.  Ridiculous and sentimental, you know, you know, but true regardless. 

You point to your ankle and he dutifully looks down.

His bangs split unevenly when his long, ringed fingers push through his hair.  He shakes his head like it will clear his vision. 

“Okay,” he says.  He opens his arms.  “Come on.”

You hesitate.  You have no reason to distrust him but he should distrust you.  He should hate you.  You want him to hate you.  You know what to do when someone hates you.  You know what to do when someone treats you badly.  You do not know what to do with Jeongin, someone so sincerely himself, sincerely kind, sincerely good.   He looks at you with nothing but concern, his arms open with a desire to help. 

You suck in another unsteady breath. 

“Come on,” he says again, a little more forcefully but not unkindly.  He seems more perplexed than angry. 

You make a slight motion towards him, still hesitant.  He accepts it as an invitation and crosses that last step to swing his arms around you.  Your hands find his shoulders as his arm slides under your legs.  He hoists you into a bridal hold, so secure that you choke on more tears. 

You want to apologize.  You want to say so many things.  You just hide your face as he carries you away from the tree.

There is a moment of shared panic when he stumbles in the mud, but he finds his footing again.   He stops for a second under some thicker foliage, looking around, out of breath. 

Your tears have subsided.  With the pain alleviated from your ankle, your senses are slowly returning to you.  You recognize where you are in the woods: far from the main path and even farther from home, but close to the old hunting lodge.  You don’t hunt but your ex-husband did.  When you took over the property after the divorce, you turned the little lodge into a cozy getaway.  You haven’t visited in a while but it will provide a roof over your head until the rain subsides.    

“Turn up past those bushes there,” you say, pointing ahead.  “We can get out of the rain until the storm passes.” 

You can’t raise your voice too loud, still blocked by residual tears, but you are close to his face.  He hears you and does as told. 

You crest a small hill and the single-room cabin comes into view.   You swear it has never looked so warm and cozy. 

He puts you on your feet once you are under the awning.  Only when you are at the door do you remember you don’t have any keys on you. 

“Fuck,” you say, welling up with exasperation.  You slouch against the doorframe.  “I don’t have the key.  What was I thinking?”

Jeongin takes off his glasses and wipes his forehead.  He blinks at the door.

“Um.”  He looks at you sheepishly, raking his fingers through his messy hair again.  “Do you mind if I—”  He gestures with his shoulder to the door.   “I don’t want to break it but you’re hurt and—”

“Yes,” you say, cutting him off and looking away.  Those dark eyes are brimming with concern and you think your guilt might overflow.  You don’t want to cry again.  You wipe your nose on the back of your arm.  “That’s fine,” you say, steady as you can.  “I can get the locks fixed after.  Just get us inside.”

He nods and folds up his glasses then awkwardly looks around.  He gives you another sheepish look before handing them to you.   You take them and hold them against your chest while hopping back on your good foot.  You get out of his way, watching him roll up his wet sleeves and mutter something encouraging to himself.  He cringes when he thumps into the door and it doesn’t give. 

Much as you want to get inside, you don’t want him to hurt himself.  After the second heavy thud, you reach out.  Before you can stop him, he determinedly throws himself against it. 

The lock finally gives.  It takes one more shove for the door to fly open.  He kicks the broken pieces of the shattered lock aside, too focussed on his task to notice how startled you are by the display.  You are still processing it when he scoops you up again.  He carries you across the threshold and kicks the door closed behind himself. 

It is blessedly dry inside the little lodge but it is also freezing cold from lack of use.  You are both soaking wet and the chill wastes no time stabbing its way to your bones. 

There is a small couch that folds out into a bed and Jeongin sits you on it.  He goes down on one knee as he gently places you down, mindful of your shivering.  You look at him, his face not far in this position.  

He ducks down, taking your hurt ankle carefully in hand.  You hiss, instinctively withdrawing, but he holds you in place. 

“How bad is it?” he asks. 

“Not too bad,” you say.  “Just sore.”

“Are you sure?”

You would say yes even if it wasn’t true.  Jeongin kneeling in front of you, holding your foot in his lap, looking so attentive and concerned – it’s all a bit much. 

You nod.  Satisfied, he moves onto the next thing and reaches past you to hit a light switch.   The room stays grey, lit only by the overcast light outside the windows. 

“Of course,” you say bitterly, groaning.  “Oh, of course the power’s out. Why wouldn’t it be?”

He snorts, his dimples deepening as he looks at you.  Your gut instinct is to recoil from the flicker of heat under your skin, to look away from his smile.   You let yourself hold his gaze a little longer than usual. 

“You’re funny,” he says with another smile.   He looks over his shoulder at the same time a shiver crawls up his spine.   He shakes his shoulders and looks back at you.  “Is that electric or will it work?” he asks, pointing over his shoulder to the unlit fireplace. 

“It will work,” you say.  You are about to explain how it works when he gets up and goes over without further preamble.  You are watching him work when you realize you still have his glasses.   “Jeongin,” you say. 

He looks back at you, those silver-ringed fingers once more raking through his hair.  His face is open as always, attentive, brows lifted.  He really is very handsome. 

“Yes?” he asks when you are quiet for too long. 

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you say and hold out his glasses.  “You probably need these.”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling up in that delighted way. 

“Thank you.  They’re just for distance,” he says.  “I can see everything in here.” 

He turns back to the fireplace and resumes his work.  It only takes another second for the flames to sparkle then roar, an orange glow flooding the room.   He smiles and claps his hands with satisfaction.

“Not bad,” he says.  He is still smiling but his eyes look glassy with faraway thought.  His breath of a laugh is not very humorous, smile softer when he says, “I’m not totally useless, I guess, right?”

You close your eyes.   You don’t want to see his face.  You don’t want to know if he feels good about throwing that at you.  You definitely don’t want to know if he feels bad for saying it, because he shouldn’t feel bad.  He did nothing wrong. 

Jeongin has been nothing but kind to you from the day you met him.   You have a mutual friend in common so at first you only saw him in other people’s company.   Then your husband hired a team to do some renovations in the kitchen and, by sheer coincidence, Jeongin was one of the crewmen.  You started seeing him a lot more often, and in your own home at that.   

He was respectful and distant, at first, as was appropriate.  Jeongin is nothing if not polite. 

Jeongin is also undoubtedly a young man with a strict internal code.  The better he knew you, the better he knew your husband.   Your husband’s moral compass skewed considerably contrary to the kind-hearted Jeongin.  You had thus far survived a bad marriage by pretending the worst of it away. Jeongin’s sudden affection and sympathy – his sudden acknowledgement of your situation being bad – was too much for you to handle. 

You reacted badly.   He only ever tried to help you but you were not good at accepting help; it meant admitting something was wrong.  Even when you finally got around that stage, you still recoiled from his kind eyes and gentle words. 

Jeongin likes you as more than a friend.  He liked you from the start, when he was puttering around the worksite and you brought him lemonades and laughed with him about nothing. 

You liked him too.  You still like him.  But Jeongin is young and sweet and hopeful and you…

You know it’s silly, but your heart feels used up.  Someone like him should be with someone younger and full of equal hope, not you with your mess and baggage and nonsense. 

You resented his kindness, his youth, his hope.  You didn’t know what to do with his love. 

You tried to convince yourself you actually hated him.  When that didn’t work, you tried to convince him and everyone else.  If you couldn’t hate him, maybe you could make him hate you.   Maybe if he hated you, you could both move on.   But Jeongin isn’t like that.  He just kept moving along, just kept smiling, just kept looking at you like he could see right through your nonsense. 

Today you went on a little tirade to your friend.  You complained about feeling obligated to invite Jeongin to your party because you shared a friend group.  You complained about Jeongin in general, describing things that weren’t true.  You claimed he was naïve and annoying and always in your face, but that for all his pestering he never actually did anything useful. 

You weren’t exactly careful about who was listening.  Apparently, most of the party overheard you. 

It was that foolish, twisted feeling: you wanted to be heard because you were bursting inside, but then you realized that was the wrong release.  It brought no satisfaction, only shame.  You embarrassed him and yourself, and for what? 

“Jeongin,” you say in a small voice, already knowing that any and all words will fall woefully short of rectifying the situation.  Still, you have to say something.  With your eyes still closed and arms still crossed, you sigh and say, “I’m so sorry.  You know you’re not— You know I didn’t—  You know I don’t—”

You open your eyes.  He is illuminated by the fire, all traces of his smile dissolved.  He shivers and it seems to pull him out of his trance.   He rubs his forehead, then he turns to you and smiles politely. 

“It’s okay,” he says with a forced smile.  “I’m sorry.  Um.  Miss.  I shouldn’t have said—” 

“Don’t apologize,” you say as firmly as you can.  “Or speak formally.  It’s fine.  Jeongin, you—  Me—  I mean—”

Your stammering is half emotion, half the cold.  His expression changes as he seems to recognize that.  You are shivering so much your teeth start to chatter.  You haven’t even dropped his glasses because it would mean uncrossing your arms. 

He gets to his feet so quickly that he almost falls, slipping in the puddle caused by his own dripping clothes. 

“D-do you have a phone?” you ask, to which he nods and retrieves it from the front pocket of his overalls.  “C-can you call or t-text one of the boys and t-tell them we’re okay?  We just need to w-wait out the st-storm.  Sometimes th-they last a while.”  You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, your gaze on the middle of his chest, but you can see he is shivering too.  “We n-need to w-warm up so we don’t get s-sick.  There’s sh-sheets— there—can we m-make a bed—”  You nod your head vaguely in the right direction. 

You close your eyes and rock a little, trying to warm up.  It’s useless with your soaking heap of a dress clinging to every wet inch of you.  

You can hear Jeongin bustling around, doing everything you asked.  When you open your eyes, you see he has made a makeshift bed out of blankets and pillows near the fire.  

He is facing away from you.  A proper little burst of heat sparks inside you when he takes a breath and starts unclipping his overalls.  He kicks off his shoes at the same time.  You look away as he strips down his outer layers, sensibly removing his soaking wet things and laying them out by the fire.  You open your eyes at the same time he turns to look at you, his hands on the waistband of his briefs.   His ears are very red, chest and cheeks likewise dusted pink.  

You think your mutual shyness might be providing more heat than the fire.

“Sorry,” he says, grabbing a blanket and covering himself.  “It’s just—we should probably take off—”  His voice squeaks and he clears his throat. 

You find yourself smiling in spite of yourself.  You nod. 

“No, you’re right,” you say.  “S-sorry for, um, looking.” 

“That’s okay,” he says with a relieved laugh.   He smiles and says, “You can look if you want.” 

Jeongin has a remarkable ability to flicker between shyness and confidence.  The sparkle in his eyes tells you that his comment was not a thoughtless blunder.   Especially because he doesn’t wait for you to look away before tying the blanket around his hips and reaching under to shuffle out of his last article of clothing.

You look away and back again.  You suppose he works a fairly laborious job and is in good enough shape to haul you up a small hill, but still.  You find your breath stolen by his lean, subtle musculature, an effortless elegance to the long lines of his body.  

He smooths down his hair.  Your eyes are on his hands when you realize he is looking at you.  You look away quickly. 

“Haha, um, here,” Jeongin says.  He holds up a sheet in offering and turns his face away, eyes closed.  “You should change too.” 

You stand slowly, arms still crossed though you finally drop the glasses on the seat. 

“Thank you,” you say.  “For everything.”

He looks at you, probably supposing it is appropriate because you are still dressed, but your thin white dress has soaked completely through.  It is plastered to every inch of skin, the vaguest sheen of translucent white pulled over every dip and curve from your neck down. 

His gaze jumps, surprised, dark brows lifting as he looks down the whole length of you.  His mouth falls open and he looks away with the tips of his ears flaming red.  He holds up the sheet again. 

“Sorry,” he says.  “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” you say.

“No, sorry,” he says again. “I know you don’t… always like me…” 

You lower the sheet but he still doesn’t look at you.  You say his name and he replies with a hum. 

“Jeongin,” you say again, heart pounding.  “You can look too.”

He fumbles and drops the sheet.  He leaves it on the floor and looks at you with surprised eyes. 

Despite your words, he awkwardly covers his eyes when you reach for the straps of your dress.  Your laughter is breathless from the cold, but he still paints a charming sight with his red ears and hand over his eyes, contrasted to just how lovely those big hands are, to the shape of him, to the flattering shadows cast by the fire. 

You peel the dress down and let it hit the floor with a splat.  You feel better to have it gone but you are still cold.   You instinctively cross your arms again, rubbing your biceps.  

“Jeongin,” you say. 

“Hello,” he replies, eyes still covered.

“C-can you help me?” 

“Oh.” He pauses for a second.  “Help you… get undressed?” 

You really are too old to act like a little girl with a crush, but you feel that way.  You don’t remember the last time you felt like this, if you ever have.  It’s nice, a little scary.  You feel vulnerable and it has nothing to do with the amount of skin showing. 

“Yes please,” you say.  “I can’t reach behind me to unclasp my bra.” 

“Oh,” he says again.  “Oh.  Okay.” 

You turn around.  You give in to your smile, helplessly charmed by his sincerity.  Then he is touching you, his proximity radiating warmth, and the next shiver feels like the cold leaving your body all at once.  He fumbles a little with the clasp but that might be because his fingers are still stiff, but he gets it undone.  He steps back while you remove it.  When you turn around, he is already holding the sheet in offering.  He doesn’t cover his eyes though he does make a point of only looking at your face. 

“Thank you,” you say, taking the sheet.   

Despite his undoubted gentlemanly politeness, you catch him sneaking a peek before you wrap the sheet around your body.  You tuck it under your arms and tie a little knot.  Like him, you shuffle out of your underwear from under the sheet. 

He gathers your wet clothes and lays them beside the fire with his own.  With a little limp, you approach the nest of blankets and pillows, all arranged cozily on the thick, fluffy rug not far from the heat.   Even though it is obvious you will have to share the makeshift bed, you still hesitate just outside it.  Jeongin is kneeling in the centre, stretching out the clothes so they will dry faster.   He looks up when he sees you waiting. 

He holds out his hand. 

“You should rest your ankle.  And warm up,” he says.  “You’ll get sick.” 

With only a little struggle, you manage to overcome your hesitation.  You take his hand and step onto the rug. 

You swear more heat alights under his gaze than from the fire. 

He shuffles back, making room for you between him and the fire.  You would try and argue, to offer him the warmer space, but you doubt he would let you and you are still so cold.  You sit down gingerly, minding the sheet.   Your movements are mutually stilted and awkward, but then you smile at each other and relax a little.   You lay down so you are stretched in front of the fire, Jeongin sitting upright behind you.   You gaze up at him, watching him look around the room. 

“This place looks different,” he says, an understatement.  The ugly little lodge has been redone, stripped of the hunting gear and tables and replaced with a little library and reading nook.  There are plants under the window and little paintings on the mantlepiece.  It is a lot more welcoming than before. 

Perhaps it is that gentle coziness that makes you suddenly braver.  This space feels safe.  You do not hesitate in raising your hand, in stroking a few fingers softly down his arm.  His skin does not feel cold anymore so when he shivers, you don’t think it’s from a chill. 

He looks down, blinking those dark eyes at you.

“It’s still a little cold,” you say.  You already know your next words are going to be so blatant and so cheesy, so you have to bite your lip to stifle your own amusement at them.  “Maybe we should cuddle up for warmth?” 

“Oh.  Yeah.”  He smiles, dimples deep again.  “Good idea.” 

There is some embarrassed, breathless laughter as you shuffle around.  He pulls up a thicker blanket to cover you both.  Even with your explicit invitation, he is clearly still uncertain about what you want.   You show him, taking his arm and pulling it around you, laying down with your back to him, pressed close and separated only by your individual sheets.  

You look into the fire, taking a few deep breaths.  You feel him settle around you. 

“Okay?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you say.  “Definitely.” 

“Good.  Good.”

You smile, biting your bottom lip again. 

You lay there for a while, listening to the fire crackle, letting the heat wash over you.   He doesn’t budge an inch, as if scared jostling you will disrupt the peace.  His arm is slung over your middle and you touch his hand.  You trace your fingers over a ring.  He exhales. 

“Can I ask you something?” he says, his voice low.   “It’s a little serious.” 

Your heart races as you know there are a million serious questions he could ask you, but you nod.  “Of course,” you say. 

There is a breath of a moment.  His hand turns under yours, fingertips brushing yours. 

“Why,” he says slowly, “would you ever pick that wallpaper?”  He points to the far wall.  “It’s dark in here and it’s still so ugly it’s hurting my eyes.”

You burst out laughing, caught off guard.  Your laughter makes him laugh, his hand catching yours when you lightly slap at him. 

“Jeongin,” you say with a little whine, “don’t torture me.”

“I’m not!” he says.  “It’s a serious question!”

“Ahh!”  You laugh some more, rolling onto your back and covering your face with both hands. 

He laughs, tugging at your wrist to uncover your face.  You pout at him and he just smiles back.  He lays on his side and props his head in his hand, grinning down at you.  You take his free hand and trace the shape of his ring again, looking up as his goofy expression softens. 

“You’re funny too,” you say.  “I’m sorry for being an idiot to you. I was wrong and you didn’t deserve it.” 

“You’re not an idiot,” he says softly, looking down at where you are fiddling with his ring.  “You were going through a lot.”   

“Still,” you say.  “I’m a grown woman and I’ve been acting like a child, bullying the nice boy I like because I don’t know what to do with my emotions.”    

You thought that would be hard to say out loud, but once it’s out there you feel a lightness in your chest.  You take in a deep breath. 

“That’s not being an idiot,” Jeongin says after a moment.   He curls his fingers around yours and squeezes lightly.  “Maybe just a little stupid,” he adds.  

You laugh again, rolling to face him and his silly grin. 

“I really am sorry,” you say.  “I know it’s not enough to say it, but—”

“It’s enough,” he says.  “You know, I followed you when you came this way because I wanted to tell you that.”  When you cover your face with your hand, he moves it.  “Also,” he says, “you were running too far away from everyone else.  They wouldn’t have found you if you hid so far out here, you know.” 

“That’s the point of the game,” you say.  “It’s hide and seek.”

“Yeah, but…”  His free hand finds yours again.  He looks into your eyes.  “I don’t think winning like that is actually fun?  If you’re alone, and never let anyone find you again.” 

Oh.  Of course Jeongin would ask ‘a serious question’ to spring a joke on you, then sneak the truly serious topic in a discussion of hide-and-seek. 

You drop your gaze to your joined hands. 

“I guess,” you say.  “I guess also it’s… um, well.”  You figure you might as well drop the metaphor as it isn’t fooling anyone.  “You don’t get hurt when you’re alone, Jeongin.  And the happier something makes you, the worse it feels when it hurts you.”

“I would never hurt you,” he says, completely serious.  He squeezes your hand. 

You look at him, smiling gently.  You know that promise is a big one, and nearly impossible as people can hurt each other without trying.  The declaration is innocent but also heartfelt.  You understand what he means. 

He seeks your gaze to ensure you understand him, so you look at him and nod.  You feel a bit watery again. 

“I know you would try,” you say.  “Is it stupid how that scares me even more?”

“Oh,” he says, separating his hand from yours so he can cup your face.  You think he is going to say something tender when he just smiles and nods and says, “Yeah, probably.”

You snort with laughter, grabbing his hand and moving it off your face.

“You’re terrible,” you say.

“Maybe,” he says, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.  “But… you’re the one who likes me, or so you said…” 

“I take it back,” you say, starting to roll away. 

He grabs your shoulder and pulls you back, giggling.  “You can’t take it back,” he says.  “We’re sharing a bed so… that’s the rules.”

“Oh, really.”

“Yes.  Sorry.”

You find yourself endlessly charmed by him.   His cocky smile is cute, especially because the tips of his ears are still red.  You find yourself tracing the curve of that ear, his blush darkening with your attention.  His smile turns affectionate, his eyes creased with happiness.   The unremitted pleasure draws you in and grants you access to the more confident parts of yourself.  You let your body lead you, experience fueling instinct as you guide him onto his back and lean over him.

You touch the side of his face, fingertips tracing his jaw.  His mouth opens and he blinks away his surprise.   

“What?” you say.

“Nothing.”  His smiles widens.  He raises a hand to touch the side of your face too, surprising you in turn.  “You’re pretty.”

The simplicity of the compliment makes you a little shy.  You smile, leaning into his touch. 

“You’re cute,” you say, only for his face to scrunch up with theatrical displeasure. “What?” you say, laughing.  “You are!”

“Puppies are cute,” he says dryly.  “Babies are cute.  I’m not cute.”

“You are.”  You can’t help but tease, his smile encouraging you.  You poke his dimple.  “Soooo cute.  The cutest.”

You laugh until he slides one hand around the back of your neck.  With his hand protectively cradling the back of your head, he flips you over so it’s you laying under him.   You find yourself looking down the length of him, his chest and abdomen, the place the blanket parts.  You look up when his nose nudges your chin, tilting your head back.   You realize you were holding a breath and swallow one down, shaky. 

He laughs but gently. 

“You’re cute,” he says, voice barely louder than the crackling fire.

“I’m not cute,” you say, tipping your chin up.  “I’m older than you.”

“Sooo cute,” he copies you.  “The cutest.” 

You realize this game of one-upping each other could quickly turn into a torturous teasing session – each of you just looking, daring, goading the other into more without fully surrendering. 

You smile and tip your head, sighing in a feathery-soft voice and wetting your lips. 

“Am I?” you ask, lifting a leg so it separates your sheet.  You can see his breath catch. 

You have butterflies inside you, fluttering away like never before. 

You undo the knot of the sheet.  You watch his eyes lower as you slowly peel the whole sheet open.  All the playfulness leaves his face, his jaw gone slack, surprise once again taking over as he stares. 

“Wow,” he finally says.  “Wow.  You’re— wow.” His expression shows he means it. 

“You’re exaggerating.”  You turn your face aside. 

“I’m not,” he says.  His hands move to either side of your head as he holds himself over you.  It draws your gaze back to him.  “Stop hiding, okay?” he says softly. 

“I think I’m doing the opposite of hiding right now,” you say, a gentle joke that he answers with utmost seriousness: swooping down and kissing you. 

It is not a soft kiss, burning and wanting, his mouth a hungry thing against your own.  It feels like a kiss he has thought about, a kiss he can’t help but hurry towards. 

Just as desirous, you fall too, the kiss so hard that you find it hard to slow down.  He eventually guides you to a gentler press, closing his lips against yours, letting them linger. 

A breath passes between you.

“Remember when you hated me,” he says, smiling, “and you tried to convince me we were incompatible?”  He kisses you softly.  “I think you were wrong.”   

He doesn’t leave room for a reply.  He kisses you again, just as hotly as before.  This time he rests more of his body against yours and you can feel where he is already hard beneath the blanket.  You can also feel it is more than substantial, drawing a gasp from your lips as he presses against you. 

“Jeongin,” your voice comes out breathless.  It is still more coherent than his reply, which is just a grunt as he starts kissing down your throat. 

It is dizzyingly hot.  You have to close your eyes to stay grounded, arching against him, running your fingers through his already messy hair. 

You are still able to giggle when he struggles to remove the blanket.  He laughs back.  You can’t remember the last time you laughed during sex.  It makes you feel like you are floating, light and carefree, driven by pleasure and nothing else. 

He gets the blanket off but before you can look down, he is sliding his hand between your bodies.  Your eyes close again, head falling back as his fingers stroke your inner thigh.  He teases there for a long time, making you strain and buck and chase his fingers.  Finally you whimper and grab some of his hair, pulling his face close to yours.

“Are you trying to make me hate you again?” you tease.

He smiles against your lips, his fingers just barely brushing between your legs.  Your thighs part, making room, but he waits. 

“You never hated me,” he says. 

Your reply gets caught in your throat when he finally slides one finger against you.  It is torturously not enough. 

“Jeongin,” you say again, running your fingers to the back of his neck.  “Please.”

“Tell me you hated me,” he says, even while proving you very much do not hate him: gathering so much wetness on his fingertips, lightly circling them up and over the most sensitive part of you.  “Can’t you?” he asks.  “Let me hear you say it.” 

“I—I—”

“Hate me?”

You shake your head, opening your eyes to look at him imploringly.  You gasp against his lips when he slides that finger inside you.  There is a ring on the one beside it, the smooth ridge gliding against you.   You cant your hips up, wanting more while he teases you. 

“You don’t hate me,” he says, to which you shake your head again.  He kisses you, licking into your mouth at the same time his fingers sink deep inside you.   He is good with his hand, his fingers long and steady, working you up until you are soaking him and clawing at his shoulder. 

“Please,” you say, dizzy from the stars bursting in every place his fingers reach.  They curl inside you as if telling you to come.  Your head falls back and his lips go down your throat as he brings you over the edge with his touch.  

He doesn’t stop when you come, drawing the whole thing out so the peak seems to last minutes.  Tears of pleasure spring to your eyes.  Only when you are gasping does he carefully withdraw his hand.  

He looks at you with a smile then kisses your cheek.  With a smile, you lean in to kiss him, then he suddenly ducks.  His hands dive under your thighs and then his face is right there, tongue taking a swipe at your still distended clit, making your whole body shudder.  You dig your fingers into his hair, holding on and closing your eyes.  It feels so good but you are still sensitive and not good at coming multiple times in a row, so after enjoying his very adept movements, you tug on his hair to lead him back up your body. 

You grab his face and kiss him hard, tasting yourself all over his wet mouth.  He moans into your mouth and presses hard against you.  His hands cradle your hips.  You spread your legs around him. 

You feel lighter after coming.  Relaxed, not just physically.  Suddenly words are easier too, spoken thoughtlessly in such close proximity to his lips. 

“I wanted you so much,” you admit.  “For so long.  Even when I was pretending to hate you.” 

“I was here,” he says, kissing along your jaw.  “I’m still here.” 

“I know.” You tug on his hair, tipping his head back so you can kiss his face too.  You nip under his jaw, his neck, luxuriating in the sound he makes.  “This is going to sound silly, but I used to fantasize—no, never mind.” 

“Wha—”

You roll him over before he can ask, taking a turn to work your mouth down his body now too.  It sufficiently distracts him as your mouth dives down, down, down.  You pause for a moment just to look at him, your gaze one of admiration and maybe slight intimidation.  You haven’t slept with anyone since before the divorce and that was a while ago.  Jeongin is bigger than most of your toys.   When you put your mouth on him, you barely get past the head before you have to use your hand for the rest of him.  You try to take a little more but you are very out of practice, choking a little and drooling all over him. 

It used to confuse you: the idea anyone would enjoying giving pleasure this way.  For the recipient, it made enough sense, but not as the giver.  You realize now that difference in desire was partner.  When Jeongin moans and curls his fingers into the rug, thighs parting to make room for you to comfortably sit there, you understand.   Messy as it is, you eagerly dive back down, wetting him with your mouth and working him in your hand. 

When he closes his eyes and drops his head back, he misses the pillow.  The rug is plush and softens his landing, but you still hear a very heavy thump when his head hits the ground.  He hisses, his face scrunching up in pain as he reaches to cup the back of his head. 

“Oh my god,” you say, sitting up and wiping your mouth.  You try not to laugh.  “Jeongin, are you okay?” 

He gives you a thumbs up with his free hand.  Then he curses and sighs in exasperation. 

“My hand is stuck,” he says, jerking the arm that is folded under his head.  “My ring—is in my hair—”

“Oh nooo…”  You are laughing properly now, in a fit of giggles as you climb up beside him to look behind his head.  You help untangle the hair from the ring, though a few strands still get yanked out of his head.   The sudden swing makes his head bounce, thunking into yours.  You both groan in pain.  You grasp your forehead and sit back on your heels. 

“This is not how I pictured this going,” he mumbles. 

“Which part? The storm, the threat of hypothermia, or the multiple injuries?” you ask. 

He grins at you, then moves to kneel in front of you.  He kneels upright while you are sitting back, putting you close to eye level with your previous task.  You look there, reaching, but he takes your hands in his and holds them. 

“Actually,” he says, “the part that surprised me most was you saying you thought about us,” he smiles here, “and it was so bad you couldn’t even admit it.”

You try to cover your face but he holds your hands, still grinning.  You throw back your head and groan. 

“It’s not bad,” you say.

His hand runs up your arm to your neck, thumb stroking your chin as he gently pulls you forward.  You go up on your knees too, following his angle for a kiss.  He leans close but doesn’t seal it, saying, “You know if you don’t tell me, I’m going to imagine the worst.”

“It’s nothing,” you say, hiding your face in the crook of his shoulder.  He pats the back of your head, still giggling to himself.  You lean back to look at him again, pouting just a bit, then reaching between your bodies to take him in hand.  You smile sweetly at him.  “Can we fuck?” you ask, watching the flicker of surprise and desire cross his face.  “Birth control, so I’m good if you’re good.  Come on.” 

You go to lay down but he catches the back of your neck, pulling you back to him.  He lifts one eyebrow. 

“You’re not gonna let this go,” you say dryly. 

“I would never force it out of you,” he says, “but the curiosity is killing me.” 

“Well,” you say, tingling under the attention of his intense gaze, of his hand so strongly holding your neck, of his nonchalance.  He isn’t even trying.  You take a deep breath.  “It’s sort of what you just said.”

“What… killing me?  You wanted to kill me?” 

“No!”  You smack his chest.  “I hate you again.  No.   I just…  Not that I wanted to the truth forced out of me but…”  You look at his face, his expression curious but not judgemental yet.  “You know all those cheesy romance novels?  Like… mafia leader stuff?  That.”

“You wanted me to be Italian?”

“Genuinely gonna kill you.”

“I’m kidding, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, continue.”

“You know what I mean!  The button popping and bodice ripping stuff.”  You mime tearing his nonexistent shirt open.  “I liked you and I wanted to do something about it, but I also didn’t want to do something about it.  So I wanted you to do something about it.  No one needs to tell me what it’s like for a shitty guy to take advantage of you, so that’s not what it was—  I just—”  You sigh.  “I wanted it to be easy.  I wanted it to be you.  Because you aren’t a shitty guy.  You’re the best guy I know.  So I would’ve let you have anything, because you would be taking what I wanted to give.  And there would be no need to talk about it or work it out.  It would just be… easy.”

“I like talking,” he says, tipping his head as if studying you.  “But I think I get it.”

“Mhm?” you ask, a little dryly.  You quirk an eyebrow at his cheesy, dimpled grin.  “Sure about that?” 

“Yes,” he says, smiling so bright it goes right up to his eyes.  “I’m sure.” 

His grip tightens on the back of your neck, pulling you right up against him.  Your chests press together and you gasp, shivering when his lips graze your ear. 

“Like this, right?” he speaks lowly.  He threads his fingers into your hair, close to your scalp so there is a controlled, gentle burn when he tugs.  “Just take.” 

“Yes,” you say, rasping.  “It’s already yours.” 

“You’re mine?” he asks. His other hand is suddenly between your legs and this time he doesn’t tease, his knuckle parting your wet folds.  Two fingers curl inside you.  “Or this is mine?”  

He tugs your head back, looking in your eye as he finger-fucks you, all the playfulness gone from his expression.  His sharp features look suddenly more severe: the cut of his jaw, his cheekbones, his brow.   You swallow hard. 

“I can’t say,” you speak in a husky voice.  “My husband would be angry.  You should go before he finds you.”

His fingers move out of you, your thighs shaking in their withdrawal.  The hand in your hair stays steady.  Then he squints, looking almost cartoonishly fierce when he says, “I’m in the… mafia.  I killed your husband?”

“Oh.”  You bite back a laugh.  “You don’t literally need to be in the mafia.”

“You did say—”

“That was just, like, a genre example—”

“Oh, okay, I get it now.”  He nods his head.  “I’ll stop if you say stop.”  He clears his throat.   “You don’t want a guy like that.  And you don’t want your husband.”  He puts a hand on your lower back and tugs, sweeping you over.  His arms hold you safe as he spills you onto your back.  One hand skims your body, hooking under your knee to bring it up around his hips.  “You want me,” he says.  

The gleam in his eye seems very genuine. 

“That would be inappropriate,” you say, not needing to fake your breathy voice when he moves against you, the length of him hot and hard and close to where you want him.   You clench around nothing, your heart picking up in speed with anticipation. 

He smiles, not quite his usual smile. 

“It would be very inappropriate,” he says. 

Then his hands are on your hips and he is turning you onto your front.  You sprawl with some genuine surprise, getting your arms under you only seconds before his hand is back in your hair.  You lift when he pulls, his grip careful but strong.  He holds you there, up on your hands and knees.  He goes up on one knee behind you, careful when pushing inside you, then sliding in all the way and staying there. 

Oh, you feel him.  Not just because it’s been a while.  You let yourself enjoy it, happily sinking into pleasure with the secure knowledge he will listen if you ask to stop, that his pleasure is tied to yours.  So you let your mouth fall open and eyes close, let the heat of the flames brush over you, let him hold you how he wants.  You take as much as he does, soaking in all that sensation.  He fills you up and fucks you deep – fast then faster.   You squeeze around him, practically singing with how you moan and sigh. 

“Yes,” he says, pulling you back into his arms as he moves to lay on his side.  He stays inside you, drawing your leg up and fucking you like that. 

You look back at him and don’t mind at all when he breaks character, yet again, this time to kiss you sweetly. 

“It doesn’t hurt?” he asks in a whisper, slowing down.  “You’re so… small.”   

“I’m not,” you say with a little laugh.  “You’re just big, baby.” 

“Baby—okay.  That’s good.  I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“I know, Jeongin,” you say, hiccupping a little because he is still fucking you hard despite his gentle words.  It makes you feel a little insane in a good way, him so very nonplussed as he screws your brain out.   “Thank you,” you say. 

“For what?” he asks. 

“I don’t knooow,” you say, reaching behind you to hold onto him.  “Just thaaank you, auugh, it’s good.”

“Oh, I get it,” he says.  “For this. Okay.” 

How he’s simultaneously cute and insanely sexy, your brain will just never compute.  But he wraps an arm around you and puts his hips to use, fucking you until you can feel an orgasm building without even rubbing your clit.  You think to try but all you can do is cling to him, letting your worries fly away as he pants and groans and holds you steady in his arms. 

“Like that, like that,” you say, your last coherent sentence until you fall apart, repeating his name as he follows you over the edge. 

He holds you tight, kissing whatever he finds first.  He rocks you through the end of it, easing you into rest.  When he pulls out, you shiver, and it has nothing to do with the cold. 

You roll over in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck.  He kisses your cheek and temple, then rests his forehead against yours. 

“I’m not cold anymore,” you say, making him laugh lightly. 

“Me too,” he says. 

“Thank you,” you say, leaning back to look at him.  “For everything.” 

He smiles that smile you love, cupping your face. 

“Thank you,” he says, “for showing me your hiding place.  Can I come here again with you?” 

Joking right after sex was never a habit before, but you find yourself bursting into a silly grin and saying, “Baby, you already know you can come wherever you want—” 

It makes him laugh too, the unexpectedness sending him over.  You laugh at him laughing so much, curling up close to him with the heat of the fire at your back. 

The cabin is warm.  Your clothes are probably long since dry.  The storm stopped a while ago and you only notice now. 

[spaceshipellie]

everything’s about you to me

ellie williams x reader

chapter two: this house is a graveyard

masterlist for other chapters *✧･ﾟ: wc: 3.7k

summary: in the midst of the apocalypse, you and ellie find each other after you’ve both lost everything. what started out as a mere safety in numbers pairing, turns into something imperishable. however, after some time you get separated, leaving you both to believe the other is dead. four years later you find a commune in wyoming.

warnings: tlou au, death, grief, burying a body, mentions of deceased loved ones, it’s sad sorry :( 18+ mdni

author’s note: i promise the next part will be less traumatic!!! it’s actually going to be very cute (i think anyway lmao) but back to this part!! thank you for all the love so far <3 lmk what you think

♪ ‘cause the world could be burning, and all i’d be thinking, is “how are you doing, baby?”

The sky was a mottled grey overhead as the three of you walked along the rural road. Nearly an hour had passed since the diner but conversations were minimal. From Ellie at least, who was reluctant to share much about herself. It was understandable, you wouldn’t be in a rush to share your life with people you had only just met. The time had allowed you to observe her though. She was wearing a blue button up with the sleeves ripped off and a grey t-shirt underneath, jeans, and converses which matched your own. Her hair was short and roughly tied up in a half up, half down.

You couldn’t help but ponder the reasons as to why she might be alone. She must have been about your age and the thought of being alone terrified you so you couldn’t imagine what she might have been through. Did she have a family? Friends? Where was she going before she met you? All of these questions swirled around your brain but you thought better of bombarding her with them. She seemed lost and forlorn and you didn’t want to do anything to upset her. Your attention was diverted when you heard coughing.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” your mom said, wiping her hand over her mouth. She then pointed up ahead to a farmhouse in the distance. “We should head towards that.”

You nodded and looked over at Ellie who looked back at you. Her lips tightened into a line as she nodded slowly. You prayed that you wouldn't find anything too terrible. Looking at the place, it almost seemed too good to be true. You mentally prepared for the possibility it was either already taken by someone or was hoarding a bunch of infected. Both of which had the opportunity to kill you.

It was another fifteen minutes before you reached the farmhouse. On approach you couldn’t hear anything, but you all cautioned yourselves as you moved towards the front door. Your mom, who insisted on going first, slowly pushed the door open with her foot, gun pointing forward. You gripped your bat and Ellie held the crowbar.

The door creaked as it opened, and eventually a jangle of cans came from above your heads. You winced at the noise, clearly set up by someone as an alarm. Nothing happened though. You relaxed your shoulders slightly as you moved further down the hall. Most of the doors were open giving you a peek at the kitchen-diner on the left side and a living room on the other.

“I’ll check upstairs,” Ellie said, shuffling past you.

You and your mom checked the downstairs rooms, each time meeting each other in the hallway and declaring nobody there. Ellie then returned downstairs.

“Anything?” You asked.

“No, all clear.”

A bang caused all of your heads to face the kitchen. You shared hesitant glances before slowly edging in that direction. It must be outside, you thought, because the kitchen was definitely empty. Your mom slowly turned the back door handle and again, pushed it open with her foot, gun looking left to right. The same noise sounded again.

“The barn,” you whispered.

The closer you got the clearer you could hear heavy breathing. It didn’t really sound like infected but why would a person be banging on a barn wall. You all slipped through the half open door, silence falling. You scanned over the room quickly.

“There doesn’t seem to be any–oh my god!” You involuntarily stepped back, accidentally bumping into Ellie. Your mom and Ellie both followed your eyes to the far corner.

“Shit.”

A man hung from a wooden beam with a rope tight around his neck. A wooden stool lay on its side on the floor beneath him. You only had a moment to take it in before the bang came again from what you now knew to be a stable door. It was followed by another rumbly deep breath. Ellie went over and slowly unbolted the door. A pinto horse with chestnut patches dashed out, neighing wildly and bucking.

“Woah, woah, easy,” Ellie soothed. Her hand came to touch its neck and the horse seemed to calm down ever so slightly. It was still very fidgety and loud but didn’t seem like it was going to run off as Ellie was now stroking its neck. You were amazed at what effect she seemed to be having on the distressed animal. You noticed something white had fallen to the ground after the door had swung open so you went over to pick it up.

“This guy left a note.”

“What does it say?”

“To whoever finds this, I’m sorry that you’re still alive in this fucked up world. If it’s any consolation, I have a pretty decent farmhouse here. Don’t get too many infected unless you go further than a few miles. There’s some food in the cupboards, ammo, first aid stuff. You should be alright here for some time if you’re smart. If you run out of stuff, there’s a town about six miles east. Though I can’t guarantee what’s left of it. And please take care of my horse, Harley. She’s a beaut and I know I’m a coward for leaving her on her own but I couldn't take it anymore. Good luck and thank you. - Jack.”

“God,” your mom breathed.

“Shit’s messed up,” Ellie said.

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking over at Jack's hanging body. “We should cut him down. Maybe bury him. The least we can do when he’s giving us his house.”

The other’s nodded. You walked over to him and picked up the stool, steadying it to stand on. You stood on the stool, your mom warning you to be careful as you reached up to cut the rope. You could see his face clearly now. His brown eyes were open and his face was sunken. His hair was matted and he was wearing muddy, navy overalls. The decomposing smell was faintly running up your nostrils. Judging by it though, he couldn’t have been dead for too long otherwise it would have been difficult to stomach.

You tried to hurry your sawing at the rope until eventually it snapped and his body hit the ground with a heavy thud. You wobbled as you dismounted the stool, searching around for a shovel. You wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. You spotted one in the corner and grabbed it before purposely walking out the barn door and round to the side of it, throwing down the shovel. Marching back in, you saw Ellie had already started to grab his arms and your mom went to grab his legs before she dropped them, doubling over in a coughing fit.

“Let me,” you said, taking his legs.

You and Ellie carried him out to where you had dropped the shovel and placed him down. You grabbed the shovel and started digging, haphazardly tossing the soil into a large pile. The atmosphere was gloomy and solemn. No one spoke as you kept digging, pausing to wipe your forehead, smearing mud on it.

“Want me to take over?” Ellie offered.

“No,” you said, a little too abruptly, “it’s okay.”

Flashes of your dad’s lifeless body cursed your mind as you ignored the ache in your arms. The way it had fallen in a bloody heap and there was nothing you could do. No way for you to reach out and touch him or tell him goodbye. Tell him everything will actually be fine and you can find him a doctor. Tell him thank you for keeping you safe. You could never go back and change your last moments with him and it killed you.

“Honey, I think that’s enough,” your mom’s voice was mellow yet concerned as she looked down at you.

She helped you out of the deep grave you had dug and you wiped your hands on your jeans, staring down at the empty pit. You and Ellie resumed holding Jack's arms and legs as you lowered him in, letting him drop the last little bit as you couldn’t reach. You looked at his face one last time, letting out a deep breath before picking up the shovel again and piling all of the dirt back in. By the time you were done, the wind had picked up and it howled around you.

“We should go inside, I’ll go and check that the horse is tied up,” Ellie excused herself as you and your mom made your way back towards the back door of the house.

“I’m gonna go upstairs” your mom said before making her way up there.

You looked around the kitchen, wringing your hands together. The last twenty-four hours had been a shit show and you could do with some peace now that you had found this place. You dumped your backpack and jacket on the dining table and started rummaging through the cupboards, remembering how the note had said there was food. Your eyes brightened upon seeing stacks of cans filled right up to the front. What a gold mine, you thought. You heard the floorboards at the top of the stairs creak.

“Hey, look at all this, isn’t it–” you turned excitedly with a can of ravioli in your hand, but your smile faltered when you saw your mom’s face. Her eyes damp and bloodshot.

“What is it?”

“Honey, I–” her voice cracked. You put the can down.

“Mom?”

“Honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t know until I…” her voice was strangled as she gestured upstairs.

Ellie then came through the door and stopped in her tracks as she noticed the tension in the room.

“Mom, tell me. Please.”

She cleared her throat.

“I was bit.”

Her words punctured a hole right through you, a lump forming in your throat.

“No, no, no, no,” your words got more rapid and desperate. This can’t be happening.

“W-where?”

Your mom pulled her top away from her shoulder and turned to show the gruesome bite mark on the back of it. You saw how the blood had run from it, some of it fresh, some of it dry.

“I wasn’t sure if it was just an injury or what until I looked in the mirror.”

She pulled her top back up and faced you again. You were crying, silently. In fact, the silence in the entire room was deafening.

“Please don’t leave me.” Your voice was hushed and weak. Your mom walked over and cupped your cheeks, brushing a tear away with her thumb.

“My baby, I’m so sorry.”

No one said anything for a moment, you just cried as she hugged you.

“I do not want to turn into one of those things and hurt you.”

You pulled back to look at her, eyes darting between hers.

“So what…w-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” she took in a shaky breath, “I’m going to take care of it myself,” her voice cracked and a sad smile stretched her lips and she nodded as if she was convincing herself.

“No,” you whispered, pulling her in for a bone crushingly tight hug.

“It’s better this way,” she said as she rubbed your back, “I’m going to take my gun, you still have plenty others here, and I’m going to walk as far as I can make it and you are not going to look for me.”

“I can’t–it’s not fair,” your voice was lost in her hair.

“I know it’s not, but hey, look at me,” she brushed your hair away from your face.

“You’re going to be okay, you hear me? You’re going to stay here, in this house, together,” she looked at Ellie as she said the last word before looking back at you. You tried to speak but she shook her head so she could finish.

“I need to know that you’ll do that for me, and that you’ll stay safe, okay?” She hugged you again, “promise me, baby.”

“I promise.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too, mom.”

“You’ll be okay.”

She gave you a final squeeze and pulled away.

“I probably don’t have long left so…” she dizzily looked around for her gun.

Your body involuntarily moved towards her but you stopped yourself. You couldn’t stop this. Nothing could. She coughed again and you could see her hands twitching. She shook out all the bullets from her gun except for two. You could tell she was trying her hardest to keep it together, but she could never fool you. The fear was making her face seem hollow and cold. Her fingers trembled as they clutched the gun. She looked at you one last time before leaving out the back door and that was the last time you ever saw her.

Ellie could see how your body was about to crumble and she moved quickly to grab you as you fell down to your knees. She knelt beside you and held your shaking body. Her chin rested on your shoulder and your eyes left wet patches on hers. It felt like the air had been knocked out of you. Everything you’d ever known was gone.

Even with everything you were feeling right now you felt guilty that this girl you’d only just met had to deal with you like this. But you were grateful she was there.

She stayed there until you were ready to pull away, revealing your bloodshot eyes and cracked lips. You slumped back against the counter and Ellie sat with her arms wrapped around her bent knees. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her eyes looked glossy as she stared at the ground. Your head ached from the crying and your face felt swollen.

“I don’t know what to do,” your voice squeaked. She took a minute to answer and her jaw clenched.

“You can’t do anything,” she mumbled, defeatedly.

It was getting darker by the minute. The haunting silence was only disrupted by a moth tapping against the ceiling. You felt overwhelmed with groggy tiredness but equally you couldn’t switch your brain off. Normally you would go to bed thinking about what to do the next day but now, you didn’t care. You couldn’t think of anything to care about.

“Maybe we should try and get some sleep,” Ellie suggested. You just nodded, slowly.

Ellie got up and left the room and you heard her lock the front door, she came back in to grab a chair and propped one under the front door and one under the back door handle just in case the locks were dodgy. She also went round closing all the curtains and checking that all of the windows were shut. Meanwhile, you sat on the kitchen floor, feeling like a ghost. She grabbed as much stuff from the table as she could including half of your things before you willed yourself up onto your feet to grab the rest. At the top of the stairs, Ellie turned to you.

“Which one do you want?”

You looked at the two bedrooms and just pointed at one of them, not really analysing it. She went in and dropped off the stuff that was yours.

“Thanks.”

“S’okay.”

She went into the other room and put her stuff down whilst you put your gun and bat near your bed. You sighed a withered sigh as you looked around the room. It had a double bed which was made up with a duvet and pillows. It had a mirrored dresser on one wall and a wardrobe on the other. The furniture looked like it hadn’t been updated for several decades before the outbreak. The wallpaper was peeling off the walls in places and framed paintings of the countryside adorned them. It was a gift that you had found this place but it was a hard one to appreciate right now. Ellie came out of her room and leant her hand on the bannister.

“Um, goodnight then I guess.”

“Yeah,” you awkwardly bit your lip, “goodnight.”

Your head still pounded with the number of tears that had been shed over the past two weeks. It felt like you were going insane. You had mostly stayed cooped up in your room, not knowing how to handle the grief. Thankfully, due to the supplies that had already been in the house you hadn’t needed to go for a supply run yet. Ellie had left you alone, not wanting to interfere. The few times you had bumped into her there was a strained tension between you. You weren’t surprised considering this was an unusual circumstance for meeting someone new, but you felt strange about it nonetheless and hoped that in time, it would ease. After all, you were supposedly stuck together for the foreseeable future.

Up until this point you had been feeling a great sorrow where your whole body ached and you could barely tell that the days were passing. Now, however, you were entering a state of numbness, a complete disconnect from what was around you. It was as if the world had been chipping away at you piece by piece all these years and this had been the last hit before you had declined into nothing.

On the first night you had looked through the bedroom draws and had found some spare clothes to sleep in. You and Ellie had also managed to wash your own clothes with some rainwater you had collected and some soap you found in the bathroom. It hadn’t necessarily made them squeaky clean but it was better than nothing. It had also been relieving to have been able to clean your skin for the first time in a while. You were sitting on the bed with your knees bunched up against your chest and your cheek resting on them, eyes trailing over some of the pictures on the wall.

You sighed, pulling yourself up from the bed and slumping over to the mirrored dresser. Your devoid expression stared back at you. Your hair had been messed around from lying against the pillow for so long so you feebly attempted to tidy it before faltering towards the stairs. The floorboards at the top creaked under your weight and your hand gripped the bannister tightly, as if you would fall if you let go. With trembling steps, you made your way down and peeked through the open living room door. Ellie was slouching on the couch looking at a piece of crumpled paper.

“What’s that?” Your voice croaked so you coughed to clear it.

Her head shot to you as she was caught off guard by your presence. “Looks like instructions on how to get to the town.”

You shuffled over and sat beside her so you could see. She handed it to you, using her now free hands to rub her tired eyes. You observed the scribbles on the paper. It featured a roughly drawn map of squares and arrows, labelled with things like ‘road on the big hill’ and ‘supermarket.’

“Will be worth a try in a few days, we’re probably still alright for now,” she suggested. You nodded, putting the map down on the coffee table.

You picked at your hands in your lap, not knowing what to say. You and Ellie hadn’t said much to each other since you got here, events having not really allowed for it. You realised that you knew next to nothing about her. About her life, where she had come from, why she had saved you. Your eyes trailed down to the bandage on her right arm again.

“What happened to your arm?”

She immediately placed her left hand over it as if she was embarrassed or covering something up. “Oh, I uh, I got stabbed.”

You drew in a short breath. “Ouch.”

“Yeah,” she looked down at her arm, “it was pretty bad.”

Your sleeves were pushed up and she noticed you had a scar on your elbow.

“How did you get that?” She asked, gesturing to it. You lifted your arm, twisting it to look.

“Oh, that was from,” a puff of air escaped your nose, “it’s stupid and not as cool sounding as yours, I fell out of a tree trying to get a closer look at a bluebird.”

“Wow,” she snickered, “hope the look was worth it.”

“It was,” you looked down into your lap, running your hand over your arm, “you don’t come across many pretty things like that.”

You didn’t notice her looking at you when you spotted something behind the slightly open door of the cabinet the TV was resting on. You got up and crouched beside it, pulling the items out.

“CDs,” you mused to yourself, shuffling through them. Foo Fighters, Jimi Hendrix, Eagles, Tracy Chapman, Nirvana, Dolly Parton, Nickelback, and a few others.

“Too bad I can’t find the CD player,” Ellie remarked.

“Hm. It must be somewhere,” you said, fixing the pile of CDs, leaving them out on the coffee table as a reminder to look for the CD player. You stayed sitting on the floor, leaning on one of your hands and glanced around. You hadn’t really been in this room much. By the window was where the cabinet and TV sat then opposite was the dusty blue couch with a couple of limp throw cushions on. The walls were off white and much like upstairs, were covered in framed paintings. The windowsill was thick with dust and the moth-eaten curtains floated with the light breeze that was coming in from the open window.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where were you going before you came with us?”

Ellie stretched her hands and placed them on her knees, shuffling in her seat.

“Uh, nowhere really.”

“You didn’t have to be so nice to me that night, so thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

She looked down at the ground with squinted eyes, her head shaking a little.

“Well, I want to,” you murmured softly, “you’d barely just met me and not a lot of people would have been that way.”

You looked up at her but she wasn’t looking at you, almost as if it would hurt her to do so.

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[amyispxnk]

My Kind of Woman

Chapter 4: Route D.

Series Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Series summary - Your song captivates Joel the second he hears you that night in Jackson, but he struggles to work up the courage to confess his feelings. With some (very heavy) encouragement from Ellie and Tommy, you two get closer and closer until he finally thinks he’s ready.

Chapter summary - A mistake from Tommy brings the two of you closer together once more.

A/N: yall know i couldnt let reader and joel be apart for longer than one chapter lmao

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.6k (woo she’s a big one)

Warnings: language, violence, firearms/weapons, blood, fluff, slight angst, panic attack, the tiniest smidge of some dirty thoughts

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

Your day starts off simple. You wake up, brush your teeth, drink some coffee as you watch the sun rise. Then, you wash your mug and head upstairs to-

Loud, incessant banging startles you as you stop in your tracks, turning to the door.

You hear Ellie’s voice from the other side and immediately rush to open it, eyes wide as you take in her dishevelled appearance and the sight of Joel beside her.

“Hey.” She smiles sheepishly, knowing you probably don’t want to see him right now.

“I knew you wouldn’t come out if you heard Joel was here, so.. yeah. Anyway! Some shit happened and they need you to come to the clinic with us.”

You’d only been half paying attention after you realised her little trick to get you and Joel in proximity again, but your head snapped up when she mentioned the clinic.

“The clinic? Why? What’s going on?” You say hurriedly, already pulling a jacket on.

“Tommy, he-” Joel starts, and you look up at him. He’s surprised when you seem ready to listen, not cutting him off or ignoring him.

You raise your eyebrows and he clears his throat, continuing.

“He got hurt on patrol.”

You tense up, about to make a break for the clinic when he places a gentle hand on your shoulder, stopping you. You try not to shudder at the contact.

“He’s fine. It wasn’t too bad, we made it back here in time.. But his leg got kind of fucked up and he can’t go on patrol for a few weeks, at best.” He says after letting go of you, the three of you all walking towards the clinic now.

“Okay. Okay.” You mutter, exhaling shakily as you try to calm yourself down.

You and Tommy were friends even before Joel came into the equation, but after you and Joel had your little.. disagreement, Joel was constantly asking about you. First he pestered Ellie, and when she got fed up with it and told him to ‘just man up and ask her, dude’, he went to Tommy.

Tommy then started checking up on you and hanging out with you a little more, and, despite the reason he was doing it, the two of you were now pretty good friends.

Your nose wrinkles as the three of you finally get inside the clinic, the stale smell of chemicals and drying blood invading your nostrils.

A nurse by the door recognises you almost immediately, taking you to see Tommy. To be fair, he doesn’t look that bad. But he’s definitely paler than normal and he’s not got that stupid grin on his face like he always does.

You stand at the door, unsure if you should even really be here, now that you think about it. The rest of these guys - Maria, Joel, Ellie - are practically family to him, and you’re just you. Why am I here? You find yourself muttering, ready to turn and leave when Tommy greets you in a weak voice.

“Hey.” You say, putting on a brave face. The others step back, having already been with Tommy for a while when he got back. Maria still clutches his hand tight, though.

“What did you do this time?” You tease, smirking as you sit beside him.

“You’re sayin’ that like it’s my fault.” He argues, to which you just raise your brows.

“Okay, it was my fault.” He mutters, going on to explain how he was too busy ‘yappin’ about somethin’ or other’ to Joel whilst they were on what was supposed to be an easy patrol. The fact that it was an ‘easy’ patrol meant that he was a lot more carefree about it, turning the corner and running straight into a group of raiders.

He laughs about it now, but it was definitely one of the scariest moments in his life. He barely had a second to think before a shot was fired, straight into his thigh. Afterwards, his assailant kicked him in the same leg and brought him to his knees. Joel rushed in, met with the sight, and let his instincts take over.

Something about the way they just trail off after that tells you it wasn’t pretty.

“Anyhow.. Joel brought me back and they patched me up, good as new!” Tommy says, managing a little humour as he points at his very limp and bruised leg.

You just nod, giving him another (fake, but hopefully) reassuring smile.

Joel clears his throat as he steps beside you.

“Tommy was originally my patrol partner but, uh, since he’s clearly not in the state to do that, he wanted you to join me instead.” He says, trailing off uncomfortably.

You still, taking the words in.

It’s been a good month now, and the hurt of what Joel did to you has mostly blown over.

Maybe this would be a good chance for the two of you to start over? If he really was just scared to take things any further, maybe this is how you figure out why.

“Okay.” You nod, and he lets out a sigh of relief.

Tommy gives him an ‘I told you so’ look, before turning to you.

“Next patrol is on Thursday afternoon, so just take it easy ‘til then. The route isn’t as easy as the one we just did.” He says, getting a small chuckle out of you since clearly the route did not turn out to be as easy as he thought.

“Okay, Tommy, thank you. Get better soon.” You say, before leaving him with his family and returning back home.

–

This time, it’s Thursday morning, and your routine goes along smoothly. You get dressed and head out to the Jackson market, needing to restock on some supplies before patrol since you haven’t been on one for a while now.

After lunch, you make your way to the armoury and pick up your weapons - a revolver, a rifle, and a knife you put in your holster.

You make your way to the stables, where you find Joel with his horse. You don’t know how to greet him so you just go over to your own mare, May, brushing her hair and feeding her an apple.

“Hey.” He finally chokes out from the other side of the room.

“Hey.” You say, a little softer. It’s the first time in ages that the two of you have been alone together, and the first time you’ve actually been ready to talk to him normally again.

“You ready to get goin’?” You ask after another beat of silence, to which he nods. The two of you set off down the river path on Route D, where a horde of runners was supposedly closing in near one of the checkpoints.

It started off as almost complete silence, save for the sound of your horses’ hooves and the occasional birdsong drifting through the air, but then you decided to bite the bullet and try to start a conversation with him.

“So! How’ve you been?” You say at last. You know it’s probably the most basic conversation starter ever used in the history of forever, but you do genuinely want to know what he’s been up to recently.

“Umm… fine. Not got much goin’ on, you know how it is.” He mutters, still unable to fully meet your gaze.

You nod, pursing your lips and glancing around as you search for something else to say, feeling the awkwardness clawing its way back to the surface with every passing second.

Joel surprisingly solves the problem for you.

“Actually- it’s probably really boring, but, uh, I finished up a pretty big woodworking project last week. ‘s for Ellie’s birthday.”

“What was it?” You ask, intrigued by this new fact you’ve learnt about him. He does so much with his hands.. guitar, building, shooting, and now woodworking. For a guy with such big fingers he sure does a lot of intricate work with them. What else could he do with them? You know you’ve been having that thought a lot recently, despite not talking to him for ages. Maybe that’s why you’d been thinking about him so much, especially in your bed at night-

“Turtle duck.” He says, breaking you from your reverie, and you giggle softly.

“A turtle duck? Like, from that cartoon?”

He tries to prevent his heart from bursting at the sight of your smile and the sound of your laugh, knowing he too caused it, but it doesn’t work.

“Yeah, yeah. She found one of the comic books and, even though she’s still hooked on them Starlight ones, she thinks they’re pretty cool. Thought she might like it.” He says, fondness in his tone as he speaks of her, and it makes your heart want to burst too. He’s such a good father to her. If he is her father. You’re still not completely sure. You want to find out but you don’t know a way to say it, so you push it to the back of your mind for now.

“When is her birthday? I feel horrible for not knowing, but..” you ask.

“No, don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s in a few weeks, July 23. Told me she never knew her birthday so I let her pick one, and of course she chose that comic lady’s one.” He grumbles playfully, making you laugh once more.

“Well, I gotta get a gift for her then. What do you think she’d like? I know she’s into comics, but you already claimed that, and there’s also the guitar.. But that’s all I got.” You hum, brows furrowing as you try to think of something.

“Well, we could always find some stuff for her guitar. There’s another patrol route I’d go on with Tommy, and we passed this old music store ‘bout a month ago. I reckon we could go and clear it, pick up some stuff.” He says, and you beam at him.

“That sounds perfect! Thank you, Joel. You’re sure she’d like it?”

“I know she would. From people she cares about, she appreciates even the thought. She’ll love it, sweetheart.” He smiles, not even realising the pet name he’d let slip.

You feel the heat in your cheeks, and bite back a stupid grin of your own when you realise that maybe things are going to be back to normal again.

–

After about another hour of scattered chatter and comfortable silence, you near the checkpoint. Sure enough, you spot mauled carcasses and shattered glass windows along the way, together with some other classic signs of infected inhabitants. If that wasn’t enough, you hear the telltale gurgling cries of the creatures, and fall back slightly to devise a plan and stow the horses somewhere safe.

“We gotta be smart about this. Smart and fast, and quiet.” Joel begins, leaving no time to mess around. “We don’t know how many are in there, and we don’t know if there are clickers ‘n’ whatnot with ‘em, so we gotta take out as many runners as possible without making a sound. Then we work on any clickers. Got it?” He asks, finally looking back up at you.

“Yeah. Jus’ needa make some more shivs and then we can get going.” You reply, taking your backpack off to get the supplies you need and starting to make a few, hoping you won’t need them but knowing you probably will. It’s not common to get a horde of runners without a handful of clickers thrown in there.

“Okay, I’m ready.” You say as you stand back up, zipping your jacket up and making sure the collar covers your neck. It’s a precaution you take which has really saved you from getting bitten there before. Such a simple thing, you wonder why it’s not a common practice by now.

He nods, and you exit the garage, securing any doors before heading over to the overrun buildings. There are two on the left and three on the right, with a few stragglers further down the road. Joel takes the stragglers on the left, and you take the ones on the right. He always seemed to favour his left, for some reason, even though he was right handed, and it always felt like he didn’t hear you properly when you were on his right. Was he really that old that he was going deaf? You briefly pondered as you met back in the middle to discuss what comes next, wiping the blackened blood off of your blade.

“I reckon we go a building at a time, clear a floor each. That way we can get to eachother quick, if need be, and we don’t get overwhelmed if there turn out to be more than we thought.” He decides, and you agree with him, before the two of you head off to the left buildings of the street. It’s mostly runners, but there were 3 clickers which you had some close calls with. The two of you managed to clear that side, looting the buildings afterwards and making your way to the right.

The first building also goes fine, but you think you notice spores between the first and second ones, holding your hand up and stopping Joel. You make your way back to him, whispering about what you’ve seen, and the two of you pull your gas masks on.

A shaky exhale from you pierces the air as you enter the second building, guns raised, Joel turning left and making his way down the hall, as you take the right.

A runner stands at the end of the hallway, limping around, and you know you need to be fast about this. If it turns around, it’ll scream at the sight of you, and you’ll be dead.

Your swiftness works out as you stab the infected in the throat, but your eyes widen when you realise there’s a clicker directly facing you, about 10 feet away from you.

You find yourself forgetting how to breathe and holding your breath impulsively, but maybe that’s a good thing, since you’d surely be hyperventilating by now if you could.

The corpse starts to grow heavy in your hands, and you muster up all of your strength to half-carry, half-drag, the thing behind the corner of the wall. Of course, the slight shuffling of your footsteps piques the clicker’s curiosity, and you hear the low croaks coming from its mouth as it ambles over towards you, giving you about 5 seconds to come up with a plan.

Your knife. If you can get a good grip on it, then your knife will be able to finish it off for you. But how would you get a grip on it when it’s directly facing you?

No time to question that now, since the clicker is literally right in front of you.

It tenses up, opening its mouth as it gets ready to screech, and you know you have to kill it now.

You rush forward as quickly and quietly as you can, trying not to cry from the sheer fear you're experiencing as its hands reach for you, sidestepping and getting behind it, stabbing it in the neck once, twice, before holding the knife there until it bleeds to death in your hands.

You take a moment to calm your breathing before moving on to the other rooms on your side. Another clicker, which you’re much more prepared for, and 6 runners, all taken down stealthily.

You’re carefully making your way over to Joel’s side when you hear it. A bang, a crash, and the loud, terrifying roar of a bloater.

Holy fuck, you think, this is the day I die. Because you’ve never taken on a bloater before, not many people have, and you don’t know if Joel has either. But you know you have to help him either way. It seems to be in his area, and you just start running, gun out, nothing to lose.

You hear it down a hallway, and dart into a room on the side, hoping it’ll run past you and you can get a shot on it from behind. You, again, try to calm your breathing as the heavy thuds of its footsteps get closer and closer, your body rigid as you clutch your gun tight.

It pauses, and your life flashes before your eyes when you think it starts turning towards you, but it just continues down the hallway.

Then you make what could possibly be the biggest mistake of your life.

You cock your gun.

And the thing roars again, before it’s charging towards you. You scream, you can’t help it, and start running.

You have to get out, find some sort of space so you can actually take a fucking shot at it without dying, but you don’t know how. It’ll charge at you in the time it takes to actually fire a shot, and you’re trying not to cry as you hear it behind you. You turn into a room, dart around, before slowing down and trying to be quiet. It’s a few rooms over, but you can still hear it, and as you try to focus on pinpointing its location, a hand covers your mouth from behind.

You start flailing, about to jam your gun into your attacker’s stomach, when Joel’s low voice whispers in your ear.

“It’s just me. Calm down.” He soothes, slowly releasing you.

You could cry at the sight of him, are surprised you haven’t already, staring at him with wide eyes.

“You ever taken down one of these before?” He asks quietly, nodding towards the direction of the bloater, and you shake your head.

“Okay, well I have, and here’s what we’re gonna do. I’ll come up from behind and fire at it a few times, try hit its legs so it can’t run at us. Then you’re gonna throw one of these at it from the other side, and start firin’ too.” He says, handing you a nail bomb. You were surprised he just had one of these, but you don’t question it right now, taking it from him with shaky hands.

“You gotta be careful with it, okay? Don’t be accidentally settin’ it off or somethin’.” He tells you, and you just nod, eyes still wide. He meets your gaze and softens a little.

“I know you’re scared, darlin’, but just trust me on this.”

“Okay.” You whisper, finally finding your voice.

“Okay.” He repeats, nodding and standing up.

You stand up too and you find the bloater again with him, watching as he approaches it from behind, grabbing the nail bomb and bracing yourself. You have to do this exactly how he said or it won’t work out.

He fires, the bloater screams, and you throw the bomb, wincing as it shakes the entire building with its blast.

You go onto autopilot as you pull out your rifle, firing round after round, trying to kill it before it can charge at either of you, Joel doing the same with his shotgun.

You barely realise the thing is dead as you continue firing, going to reload when you realise it’s gone completely still.

Your body is still rigid and tense when Joel approaches you, lowering your gun and directing your gaze back to him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” You whisper, voice weak.

“Let’s go, then.” He mumbles, knowing you’re definitely not okay right now.

You loot this building before clearing the last one, it being pretty empty save for the 4 runners you take down, and head back to the horses. You’re still moving on autopilot as you untie your mare when Joel’s palm comes to your shoulder. You jolt at the contact, relaxing a little when you remember it’s just Joel, and he sighs.

“Look at me.” He says, and you turn slowly, chin trembling as you meet his soft gaze.

“Are you okay?” He asks again, slower this time, and you just shake your head as your tears start to fall.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, fuck-” you mutter, wiping your eyes and digging the heel of your palm into them to try stop any more tears, finding yourself starting to hyperventilate and get overwhelmed as all the panic in your body finally gets released.

“It’s okay. C’mere.” He says quietly, opening his arms for you, which you gladly step into.

“It’s okay.” He repeats for you, holding you tight. It grounds you, feeling him like this, warm and big and safe.

The tears eventually stop and you sniffle quietly, pulling back and wiping your face.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, darlin’. It’s scary to take one of those things, even after doing it multiple times. I was real fuckin’ scared too.”

“You were scared?” You murmur, having not sensed that from him at all. Guess that’s just how he was, stoic and determined whenever there’s a threat like that.

“Yeah,” he nods, “didn’t want y- didn’t want either of us gettin’ hurt.” And there it is. He was more scared because he had you to protect, as well. He’s a natural protector, and when it comes to someone that he lov- that he cares about, it makes things ten times scarier for him. Knowing a mistake from him could mess it all up. Like before.

“Well.. thank you. For keeping us safe back there. And for.. this.” You say quietly, wiping your face once more before returning to your mare.

The two of you ride back to town after filling out the log book, in another silence. It isn’t awkward, and Joel knows you probably still need some quiet time to process everything, but he does try talking to you again once you’ve made it back to the stables.

“You alright now?” He asks quietly, as the two of you return your weapons.

“I will be. Thank you, Joel.” You say with a small smile, the most you can manage right now.

“Okay. Good work today, darlin’. I’ll see ya ‘round.” He says, before leaving the room.

Things are going to be okay.

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3

Next Chapter

Tags- @mermaidgirl30 @tuquoquebrute @joelmillerisapunk @pascals-doll @casa-boiardi @konigslittleliebling @xxx-silhouette-xxx @hannah9921 @friskispunk @orcasoul @sarahhxx06

[lewkwoodnco]

the tortured poets department - george karim x reader

George stiffened and shut his eyes regretfully as if he couldn’t bear to see that look on her face. A faint flush started creeping up his throat, peeking out from behind his starchy collar. “Don’t,” he whispered.

“Tell me,” she pressed, taking yet another step closer until their noses were barely an inch apart, “who else is going to know me? Truly know me?”

He let go of the breath he was holding and it fluttered across her cheek like the ghost of a kiss. They were venturing into intolerably intimate territory, and she could feel her pulse racing under the distracted brush of his thumb on her wrist.

a/n - HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH thats it thats the a/n also happy birthday to ali hadji-hesmati ia m NOT late shut up

tropes/warnings - slight nsfw towards the end (idk tho??), angst (what else is new lmao), tw slight mention of suicide, ft locklyle wedding (a bit) happy ending tho, i am very sick wrote this entirely on my phone and cannot be held accountable for any of this

word count - 3.7k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

Who uses typewriters anyway?

That was what she had mouthed at her friend from across the Fittes office. They were brand new hires; scribes assigned to different researchers under an apprenticeship programme. Things were off to a rougher start than she had expected. From what she could see, her friend had been assigned to a perfectly normal-looking researcher who, now that introductions were complete, was explaining his filing system to her.

On the other hand, the first thing her oddly intense researcher had asked was if she knew how to use a typewriter. She had laughed, thinking it was a joke, before very quickly realising that he was being perfectly serious. He started explaining how the contraption worked far too quickly for her to catch anything, and she had taken the chance to shoot her friend a look.

“L/N?”

She whipped her head back around, immediately apologetic. “Sorry. I think I get how it works now.” Really, it was just bad luck that she had gotten the short end of the stick.

The next thing she learnt, over many months, was how to pick up on and decrypt George’s nonverbal cues. Namely, knowing what his every sigh, muttering or frown meant. While it had felt frustrating similar to banging her head against a wall in the beginning, he started to grow on her. Learning how George Karim ticked was like figuring out an intriguing puzzle all on her own. Besides, he wasn’t unkind. He could be understanding, so long as he had the patience for it on that particular day.

But there were times when she decided that no, he wasn’t all that compassionate of a coworker. Particularly on nights when he’d have her write up chapters worth of research summarised from his scrawled notes. And woe betide her should she make one too many mistakes.

Who the hell uses typewriters anyway?

"Do you ever think about leaving Fittes?"

Her typing stopped abruptly, her flickering train of thought completely demolished by George's appalling suggestion. They were sitting at their adjacent desks at the Fittes office, her typing up the previous night's case report while George twiddled his thumbs and fiddled with a pen in increasingly creative ways.

"Leave? And go where?"

She followed the line of his hateful stare towards one of the thick metal doors along the corridor which led to a more restricted part of the offices. Like most others, she felt no pressing inclination to snoop around and stumble upon information she would rather not find. But for someone like George, she could practically see how it gnawed at him - libraries of secrets just begging to be known.

Her gaze flitted anxiously between his face and the door. It was both a frightening and thrilling thing when George decided to put his mind to something, using his brain at its full capacity in some sincerely earnest hunt for knowledge. It was also the thing that was going to get him killed sooner or later, mesmerising as he was. It. Mesmerising as it was.

"Start our own agency. Play by our rules."

She laughed nervously, too artificial even for her own ears as she wrung her stiff hands. George's voice had a distant quality to it that told her he was on the way to making some very bad decisions if she didn't step in soon. "Oh, George, you say the…the darnedest things. You're no Tom Rotwell, you know."

"You're not Marissa Fittes yourself, either."

"Rude."

His gaze flickered to her at that, the barest hint of a smile ghosting his lips as the tension in his shoulders dissolved. She visibly relaxed as well, satisfied that it would be a decent while before he once again latched onto this bizarre notion.

Which was why his abrupt switch in employment to some small, crumbling agency had left her more than shell-shocked. Coming into work on a normal, gloomy Monday and seeing George's desk cleared out and painfully sterile of the ideas and theories he buzzed with left her feeling lost at sea in the worst way. And he didn't bother to reach out to her either - not a call, not a letter, not a visit.

That is, not a visit until he turned up at her door in the middle of the night, pale as the Visitors that skulked outside her door.

"Sorry.”

For one stupidly miraculous moment, she thought he might be apologising for a month’s worth of grey days and sleepless nights.

“I know it’s late, but I think I left my typewriter here."

She felt stupidly disappointed.

"You're making a mess of my - what are you doing?"

George had located his otherwise untouched typewriter positioned at one corner of her dining table and was now furiously typing away, a sickly, pallid sheen to his forehead.

"Don't worry, I'll be qui -"

"Karim."

His typing faltered, and for once he had the decency to look marginally embarrassed.

“Sit down. Start from the beginning.”

So he did. He told her everything about some Type Two case at 62 Sheen Road, short of coming out and saying that he had put his associates' lives in danger, but she could hear it in his voice. It was an almost welcome return to the old days of picking out the relevant parts while his mind ran ahead at the speed of light; so much to think and agonise over. When his voice finally started to run thin, she fetched him a cup of tea, taking a moment to process it all.

"Okay, so, if I have this right, none of this is your fault. No - don't argue with me. Drink your tea. You told him to wait, that you needed more time.“

He mumbled something incoherent as he pulled off his glasses, dragging a hand across his eyes, looking far too young and worn. He glanced up to meet her gaze, the look on his face as much of a wreck as the rest of him. He looked down again, staring at his hands splayed on her dining table. George never was one for letting his feelings show, let alone hysterics, and it rubbed at something raw to see him spiralling this badly.

“They’d be better off with a researcher who could actually do his job.”

She suppressed the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes.

“Oh, please, this has nothing to do with being altruistic. This is just you trying to punish yourself over something that isn’t even your fault.”

He showed no sign of having heard her. She sighed and slid into the seat next to his, her fingers nearly brushing his.

“Look - what's done is done. Possibly the worst thing you could do now is leave them in the lurch like this. Of course, it's not going to be smooth sailing throughout, but you made a commitment, so for the love of God keep your head up and stick it through.” She reached out to loosely cover his wrist. “Okay?”

George stayed silent but glanced up at her. Okay. She pulled her hand away. He finished the last of his tea and stood.

“I should get going, I suppose.”

She looked out the window, eyeing the eerie green glow of the ghost lamps critically. “It’s a bit late, don’t you think? Not very safe.”

“I have my rapier on me.”

The corners of her mouth tightened.

“I’d feel better if you left in the morning.”

And so they ended up in her living room, him sitting on the floor and her sitting on the couch, dragging her fingers through his soft curls. They talked about everything and nothing, like the recent layoffs at Rotwell’s and what George’s new associates were like. He made them sound marvellous. It was obvious why he’d leave Fittes. Why he’d leave her.

“The three of us…we live at 35 Portland Row.”

“Mhm.”

“And there’s this doughnut shop down the street from there.”

She lightly scraped his scalp teasingly.

“So that’s why you left.”

She could feel him smile despite himself.

“We should go, someday. You’d love it.”

A vision trickled into her imagination - she and George standing at the end of some empty cobblestoned road with soft, pillowy doughnuts dripping sugar down their knuckles, sprinkles melting into their fingerprints. It’s evening, and the sun is almost painfully intense, beating down a lovely glow over the scene. She’s distantly aware of the impending danger of the rapidly approaching nighttime, but for now, George is standing in front of her in a soft shirt, the edges of his face kind and blunt, the almost permanent furrow of his brow melted away in the liquid sun, reaching out to swipe a thumb at the corner of her mouth -

“Get some rest.” Her voice was thick with a longing for such golden yet treacherously illusory days. George leaned back, resting his head on the couch with half-lidded eyes, his breathing evening out as he drifted off. She gently slipped her fingers out of his hair. She gently pulled his glasses off but before she could put them someplace safe, she was out like a light herself.

She had a fitful sleep and blearily woke up a few hours later, George’s head an oddly comforting weight against her knee. She groggily pulled herself up and tossed a blanket at the figure slumped against her couch before fetching a glass of water and some paracetamol.

Shortly after, George lurched awake like he was sweating out a fever, heart thudding and eyes restless. He groaned, no doubt wincing at the pounding behind his eyes. He caught sight of the water and medicine placed next to him but looked away after a moment of consideration. She raised her eyebrows pointedly, knowing only too well the kind of hell his overactive mind was capable of putting him through.

“How’s your head?”

She hadn’t meant to sound that sarcastic, but it was enough for him to get the hint. He relented, taking a sip of water and then one of the pills just for good measure.

"Good. Now go home and get some proper rest, you moron."

She watched him stumble down the road till he turned the corner, trying to hide how shaken she was by his panic. She sighed wearily. Only a month at Lockwood & Co. and already he would be a desperate wreck without them. She turned back inside, trying to ignore how empty her dining table looked without his typewriter and how vacant she felt without that flimsy excuse for him to see her again.

Years passed. She and George somewhat kept in touch, but it had still been extremely startling when Lockwood & Co. reached out to her with plans to expose her employer, Marissa Fittes. Amongst the tragedy of Portland Row being reduced to rubble, Kipps nearly dying and the Skull almost moving on, unemployment was the least of her concerns.

Still, it wasn’t all sad once Lucy had proposed to Lockwood after one too many failed attempts by the latter party. They had planned a relatively intimate affair, only inviting some old friends of the ex-Fittes employees of the group.  

They held it at an inexpensive banquet hall just a few minutes away from Portland Row. Lucy looked gorgeous and glowing with happiness under the gentle warm lighting, and Lockwood looked dashing in a suit not much more formal than his regular one. He spent the majority of the reception denying that he had teared up at the first glimpse of Lucy at the end of the aisle, insisting that his best man was a pathological liar.

After the main event, the guests milled around, having drinks, and occasionally congratulating the happy couple. As expected, Lockwood became very drunk very quickly, enough to pull out some terribly nonsensical yet oddly stirring comment.

“Here’s to the first day of the rest of our lives.”

She glanced across at George. He met her eye. They immediately looked away. She could have sworn she felt a hitch of some breath between them. She felt the prickle of tears behind her eyes. Lucy was desperately trying to shut up an overly emotional and hence overly talkative Lockwood who looked ready to launch into a speech no one asked for.

“That’s enough now, or we’ll have Kipps bawling all through dinner.”

It wasn’t exactly a sit-down dinner, though there was appropriate seating. Half of the guests were eating and the other half were having fun with some party games. She was watching Holly struggle at Twister when she felt someone slide into the seat next to hers - namely, the best man, George.

“Hey.”

She grinned, flushed from the champagne she had been sipping all evening. “Hey.”

“Having fun?”

“Lots.”

He couldn’t help but return her smile, looking a little tipsy himself. “I can tell.”

They ate in silence for a while, only the tinny sound of the radio’s strain and cheers from the party games filling the space between them.

“I think I missed you at the bouquet toss earlier.”

She nearly swallowed her spoon. He had noticed? He noticed her? She didn't know how to tell him that she couldn't see herself marrying anyone that wasn't him. How could she wake up every day knowing her better half was somewhere out there miles away, wondering if he wished for someone as moron-shaped as her?

“Oh, well, that’s not really my thing. More of a bridesmaid than a bride.”

She resumed eating, presuming that line of conversation to be over until she noticed he was still looking at her strangely, his cutlery stationary in his hands. Her chewing slowed in an attempt at dignity.

“…what?”

He lifted her right hand off her knife, making her heart thud dangerously. Wordlessly, he pulled off the sapphire ring on her middle finger and oh-so-delicately slid it onto her ring finger instead.

“I think you’d make a wonderful bride.”

She stared at the ring, speechless. It wasn’t a proposal, but it wasn’t nothing either. Maybe…maybe this was a second chance at something. Maybe he wouldn’t screw this up this time.

He almost reluctantly relinquished his grip on her hand. She didn’t dare meet his eye. Even his voice, quiet yet slightly rough, felt unbearable to hear.

“Were you mad? When I left without telling you?”

She had waited months to hear those words.

“I wished you'd talked to me about it first. Just...just to make sure your head was screwed on straight.”

He nodded, and they returned to their food, the silence a lot less giddily amicable now.

“So, would you have - “

“Absolutely not. God, no. I would have told you to stay ten feet away from Anthony Lockwood at all times.”

They looked over to where Lucy was helping Lockwood sit down, having unfortunately thrown his back out at Limbo. She winced. “He’s such a wild card.”

“I suppose I am too.”

She turned, curious, and he looked as though he regretted letting that slip out. Her voice dropped, taking on a softer edge.

“Not to me. Not when it’s you.”

He stared at her like there was something bloodied and hungry behind his eyes. She felt this twinge of something in her chest. Oh, how could she bear this? How could she bear him?

Sometimes, part of her wished she were a book - one completely enthralling and riveting, chock-full of secrets eager to slip out and lose themselves in thin air. Perhaps that was just a manifestation of her paralysing desire to be known and to be known by him.

“I should go,” George was saying as he finished up the last of his food. He stood, wiping his mouth, wandering off to find his coat. Maybe it was the liquor or the unfamiliar buzz of hope in the air tonight, but there was some odd tone of finality to his voice. She watched him leave, chewing her food thoughtfully, not feeling very hungry anymore.

As the minutes trickled by, it began to feel exhausting to be surrounded by so many happy couples, happy people, all that revolting joy and merriment. Only a short while after George had left, she located her own coat and weeded Lucy out of a throng of people doing the Macarena.

“I think I might head out now. Congratulations once again, Luce.”

“You too? Aww, thanks. Have you decided about the job offer from Madison?”

“I haven’t written back yet, but I think I’m going to turn them down. I was thinking about talking to Lockwood someday to see if he could take on one more employee. Plus, Madison’s a bit far out, and I’m pretty comfortable where I am.”

“Good. George might have just offed himself if it weren’t for his course at Edinburgh. I mean,” Lucy tripped over her words over the stunned look on her face, “I’m sure he was just kidding.”

“Hang on. Edinburgh?”

“Yeah. For his supervisor training. Did he not tell you? I thought for sure he…”

Lucy’s words muffled into oblivion and bled into some horrible ringing sound. Her mouth felt painfully dry. No. This couldn’t be happening.

“…he wanted to wait till after the wedding to tell Lockwood. Didn’t want to put a damper on things. Don’t get me wrong - I’m just as cut up about it, but…” They looked over to where Lockwood was watching the limbo game from afar with a forlorn expression. “…you know Lockwood.”

“What the hell, George.”

He jumped, freezing with his hand buried deep in his pocket, tediously hunting for his keys. She had managed to catch him at the front porch of Portland Row, looking especially guilty under the tepid glow of the ghost lamps.

“You’re training to become a supervisor?”

His face briefly twisted in annoyance. The audacity. “I told Lucy in confidence -“

“When were you going to tell me, Karim? Or were you just going to let me find out all on my own, like last time?” She wanted to laugh cruelly. There was nothing merciful about this knife in her chest. “I mean, why do this? Why lead me on and make me feel things and give me hope?”

“When have I ever led you on?”

“Then what was all that with my ring? Huh?” Tears sprang to her eyes once again, hot and shameful, stinging like a caustic disinfectant to an open wound. She felt so, so stupid.

“You said you didn’t care.”

“I did care!” she snapped. “Of course I fucking cared. I don’t think I could have stopped myself from caring, not when I know you like the back of my hand.”

“But you don’t care. No - tomorrow you’re going to board a train and move out of my reach and meet someone new to soothe the turmoil in your head and you won’t feel my heart bleeding for you. And if you’re very, very lucky, you might find some semblance of happiness -“

“I weigh you down!” The tirade died at her lips. Fury lined every shadow, every crevice of George’s face. He spat his words out with such venom, utter distaste. “I weigh you down…like a child. You pick me up when I fall down and kiss it better because that’s the kind of person you are. I can’t sentence you to a lifetime of running around trying to save me. I won’t do it. I’ll find someone else.”

A burden. He looked through her eyes and all he saw was a shrivelled excuse of a companion, dragging her into his depths of despair. She’d be lying if she said she never felt suffocated by his baggage. But there were some burdens you didn’t mind shouldering, not when you loved them so tenderly.

After all, who was going to unravel his every pause, stutter, sigh, and ache as she did?

“But who else is going to decode you like I do?”

George stiffened and shut his eyes regretfully as if he couldn’t bear to see that look on her face. A faint flush started creeping up his throat, peeking out from behind his starchy collar. “Don’t,” he whispered.

“Tell me,” she pressed, taking yet another step closer until their noses were barely an inch apart, “who else is going to know me? Truly know me?”

He let go of the breath he was holding and it fluttered across her cheek like the ghost of a kiss. They were venturing into intolerably intimate territory, and she could feel her pulse racing under the distracted brush of his thumb on her wrist.

There was a brooding, resigned look in his eye as if whatever he had been running from had finally caught up to him. He bowed his head and their foreheads touched. Her arms nervously reached around his neck, his hands on her waist steadying her as if to keep their balance on whatever strand of peace the moment had proffered them.

Her lips hovered over his shoulder, clavicle and jaw. She felt him reflexively tighten and loosen his grip, restless fingers fiddling with the folds of her dress and how they wrapped around her body. She brushed against the shell of his ear and felt a shiver run up his spine.

“Who else is going to hold you…like me?”

He turned a fraction and she briefly registered the lack of hesitation in his dark eyes before he finally closed the last of the gap between them. He pressed his lips to hers, soft yet intentional. He tasted like champagne and smoke and promises long-forgotten yet unbroken. It was a dizzying sort of relief to feel that years-old desperate want coiled inside finally melt through arms and fingertips buzzing with curiosity.

After that first touch, it felt as though they couldn’t get close enough, let alone pull themselves apart and have the brisk evening air rush in and nip at sensitive skin. She heard the doorknob rattle as George fumbled with it. After a short struggle, they stumbled into a nearly pitch-dark Portland Row, urgently shucking off each other’s coats and scarves. Her mind was running a mile a minute, her scalp tingling with electricity; white noise over the scrape of his teeth against her skittering pulse.

Her thoughts fragmented. At Fittes. In his room. In her apartment. His typewriter sitting glossy, polished, untouched, maddening -

George Karim was the most affected prick she had the misfortune of knowing. It was bad, bad luck that she was so irrevocably tied to him.

TAGLIST: @cielooci @mohinithoughts @neewtmas @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @ahead-fullofdreams @elenianag080 @avdiobliss @mischivana @mitskiswift99

[madaqueue]

Dripping in Gold | Chapter 6

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader [suguru geto x f!reader]

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, angst, smut. alcohol consumption, kissing, mentions of oral (f receiving). 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.2k

a/n: tbh writing this chapter has started turning me into a geto girlie lmao i may have to do some more content for him later teehee

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

The warmth of the bar greets your skin as the buzz of conversation fills your ears. You’re too exhausted to wonder if you’re overdressed, your black dress hanging loosely off you after your encounter with Toji. Making your way past sticky, sweaty bodies, you finally find an open seat and sit down on the swivelling stools.

You order a beer and a shot of the cheapest liquor they have, anything to clear your mind of the day. More than anything, though, you’re just trying to clear your thoughts of Gojo. He has this insidious way of popping up when you least expect it, when you let the noise in your head get a bit too quiet.

Knocking back the shot quickly, you sip your drink as you wait for it to kick in, hoping to blur the edges of the turmoil inside you.

An arm reaches across the bar in front of you as a man leans against the counter. “You know, some places consider it rude to take shots by yourself,” he opens, his voice airy. “They’re made to bring people together, but here you are, looking so lonely.”

“Well, good thing that’s not here,” you retort, not bothering to look up at him. You don’t want to be talked to right now, all you want is to sit, drink, get a taxi home, and go to bed.

“I’ll take two more of whatever she just ordered,” the man requests from the bartender, talking to him over your shoulder. “Cheers,” he turns back to you, holding out the two small glasses of liquor.

Your eyes finally move up to him, sluggishly scanning the black dress shirt over his torso, to his arms, one of which is covered in a full sleeve tattoo depicting what seems to be a dragon (it’s hard to tell under the dim light of the bar, and you can only see his forearms where his sleeves are rolled up to, anyways). Finally, your gaze meets his face and your heart flutters for a moment. His dark eyes are partially covered by a few loose strands as his bangs escape the bun that holds most of his black hair.

Oh my god, he’s fucking hot.

Maybe it’s the alcohol finally hitting you or maybe it’s the fact that one of the most gorgeous people you’ve ever seen is standing in front of you, but your cheeks suddenly get hot as you try to avert your gaze from the man you were just ogling.

A soft laugh escapes his lips as he watches you become visibly flustered. “Aw c’mon now angel, you’re really gonna turn down a free drink?”

The nickname only furthers your bashfulness as you try to regain a semblance of self-respect. “N-no,” you mutter, still not able to look back up at him as you reach out your hand to accept the glass.

Before you realize it, the glass slips through your fingers, tumbling to the floor as it spills its contents over you.

“Shit,” you exclaim as the glass shatters beneath you, suddenly covered in liquor.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, grabbing napkins off the bar to try and pat you dry.

You sigh. “It’s fine, honestly with how this day was going I’m not surprised something like this would happen,” you reply with a sarcastic chuckle.

The man squats down to collect the broken glass, and something about him practically kneeling between your legs as he does so sends shivers through your body. Once he’s carefully placed all the pieces in a napkin, he turns his attention back up to you, still between your thighs.

“I know this isn’t very romantic, but I live about a block from here, I can get you a change of clothes and wash your dress for you if you’d like,” he offers.

“Is this your attempt at flirting with me?” you tease, trying to shove down the images your brain flashes you of what he would look like if he just leaned forward a bit, tongue against your pussy, eating you out.

No, I’m not doing this again. I’m just getting over Gojo, and the stuff with Toji. No.

“Oh, angel,” he purrs through a low voice, standing up, his body suddenly so close to yours, “if I was flirting with you, you’d know.”

Okay, nevermind.

Unable to discern if it’s the heat of his body or the warmth of the bar, something hot builds in your stomach. You need him.

“Okay, let’s go” you huff, hopping off the stool and grabbing him by the wrist as you lead him out of the bar. You can’t see behind you, but he’s grinning ear to ear.

On the walk to his place, you realize you’re about to willingly go home with a complete stranger. Maybe the whole situation with Gojo made your morals slip a little more than you cared to admit - after all, you did just fuck Toji a few hours earlier, but you at least had his address and pictures in case something were to happen. As the dark-haired man leads you down an unknown street, nervousness builds inside you.

“I-um, I just realized I never got your name,” you observe, trying to quiet your nerves.

He smiles, so genuine that it almost immediately puts you back at ease. “I’m Suguru Geto.”

Okay, a name is at least something, and honestly you weren’t getting any threatening vibes from him. I’m sure it’ll be fine, you reassure yourself as he stops in front of a door, reaching into his pocket to grab a collection of keys.

Unlocking the door, you step inside to the nicest apartment you’ve ever seen as Suguru flicks the lights on for you. The white granite countertop of the kitchen greets you first as your eyes move past it to the living room, decorated with a perfectly clean white couch and light wood coffee table, a gold vase with fresh roses sitting in the middle.

You try to stifle a laugh at how impeccable everything is. No way a guy lives here. Especially not a single guy. This is the opposite of whatever a bachelor pad is, it almost looks professionally designed.

“I can show you to my room to get that dress off for you, if you’d like,” Geto murmurs behind you, forcing your attention back to him.

You nod and he leads you down a hallway to the right of the living room, turning into the first door on his left. It seems like the hallway just keeps going, maybe to an office? You really don’t know enough about Geto to even make an educated guess on his living situation, but you honestly don’t really care. You just want to be out of this dress and under him.

His room is just as perfect as the rest of the apartment, a neatly made bed in the middle with a black comforter, plants decorating the corners of the space.

He clicks on a lamp to provide some lighting before turning around. “I’ll be in the living room, just take whatever clothes you need and come get me when you’re done,” he says as he reaches a hand up to his hair, undoing the bun and letting his shoulder-length locks fall.

Your arm shoots out to grab his wrist, freezing him in place. “Suguru,” you hum, voice low and full of lust, “why don’t you stay in here? I might need help finding something to change into.”

Slowly, he turns back to you, a sly grin on his face. “If you insist, angel.”

With that, his hands are on you. His palms grab your waist and lift you up, gently tossing you onto the bed. Your lips meet his as he lays on top of you, his breath smokey with the taste of liquor. “Let’s get this dress off you, hm?” he purrs against your mouth.

Snaking his hands behind you he undoes the zipper and slides it down your legs without breaking the kiss. While he does so, your hands are on his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt. He pulls it off his shoulders and tosses it across the room before leaning back down, his lips now tracing down your neck.

You open your eyes slightly, taking in the muscles lining his shoulders and back. So, it is a dragon tattoo, you think to yourself as you mentally trace the outline of it down his arm.

Suguru continues working his way down your body, leaving trails of sloppy kisses along the way, until he finds himself between your thighs. The image of him from the bar flashes into your mind and you smile to yourself in anticipation.

A realization suddenly comes to you: this is about to be the first time in months that you’ve fucked someone and haven’t gotten paid. Hell, it was probably closer to a year since your sex life wasn’t particularly active before Gojo.

Suguru seems to sense the shift in you, pausing from where he was gently sucking on the flesh of your inner thighs. “You okay there, angel?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, unsure of what emotion you’re feeling as you grapple with the need to understand why you’re about to hook up with Geto. Is it because you want to? Is that even allowed? The concept feels foreign, especially after Toji. But then again, you kept seeing Satoru long after you had enough money - besides, there was that day when he forgot to pay you, and you didn’t seem to care. What did you want?

“M’kay, if you say so, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?

Your heart drops. Images of Satoru come flooding back to you as the word repeats in your mind, only this time in his voice. The way he’d laugh through it as he teased you, how he’d whine it when you’d suck a little too hard on the skin of his neck, when he’d whisper it to you as he placed a kiss on your forehead before you both drifted into sleep.

Fuck. Fuck. No, not this, not now.

You were just starting to get over him, you were finally hoping to forget about him.

“I-I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,” you mutter, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

Suguru immediately sits up and moves to your side, eyes scanning your face. “Okay, that’s okay,” he reassures, gently rubbing your arm as panic begins to take over you.

“Y-you didn’t do anything wrong,” your voice waivers as you wipe away the first few tears starting to fall. “Sorry I just…” you sigh, “I have feelings for someone else.”

The words leaving your mouth feel like a surprise even to you, but some part of you deep down knows it’s true. In everything you’ve been doing you’ve been trying to push Satoru out of your mind, but with each shove it seems like he digs his heels into you further, unable to tear yourselves apart.

“Oh,” Geto chuckles softly, “I get it. I’ve been there.” He squeezes your hand and hops off the bed with a gentle grin, moving towards his closet. Grabbing a large black t-shirt, he tosses it to you before grabbing your dress off the floor. “Why don’t you put this on, and I’ll get this in the wash for you. You’re welcome to stay here tonight since it’s pretty late, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

A smile forms on your face from his kindness as your tears begin to slow. “Thanks, Suguru.”

He nods, still grinning, and heads out of the room. Now alone, you’re able to try working through what just happened with him.

You still have feelings for Gojo? No, that can’t be right, because he doesn’t have feelings for you. Besides, you haven’t seen him in months, and you’ve been completely no-contact since you confessed to him.

But then, why would you turn down hooking up with Geto? There weren’t even supposed to be any emotions involved in it, at least not like there were with Gojo. Wait, were there emotions with Gojo?

Thinking back, you remember the way he’d look at you, eyes soft and full of love. He looked at you like you made everything good in the universe, as if you single handedly hung the sun in the sky and painted the clouds just for him. His gentleness with you, even when he was rough, was tender. The way his lips would linger on yours just a moment longer when you said goodbye after each date, how he’d watch you walk back into your apartment building because he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from you, how he’d purposely leave sweatshirts laying around for you to borrow so you could remember him even when you were apart.

Those are feelings. They have to be, right?

Too tired and too confused to think any more, you put on the t-shirt Suguru gave you and pass out in his bed, wishing Satoru’s arms were around you.

–

In the morning, you awake to the smell of pancakes. How sweet of Geto to cook. Sliding out of the covers, your bare feet make their way over to the door before opening it and stepping into the hallway.

Your eyes close as you stretch your arms up above your head. “G’morning,” you yawn.

“Well, good morning to you too, sweetheart,” a voice calls from across the kitchen.

Your eyes shoot open, body frozen in place, as your gaze meets the man who you fell asleep wishing for.

“Satoru?”

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[nebuladreamz]

Thinking about how if i ever had the opportunity to make. a mascot horror game or story that i'd have it take place right before the eventual Big Fall of the establishment

[Big ramble under the cut lmao]

Something something reuse how I thought for Security Breach we'd play as Vanessa and the five nights formula was doing the shift but slowly discovering through each shift that Some Shit is happening and she has to stop it (directly before we found out Vanessa was Vanny/Vanessa was the security guard's name)

LIKE!!! I fucking adore how a couple of standout mascot horror games have been [primarily Indigo Park, I'm willing to give it a shot and it's deadass because of Rambley and his role as an AI assistant], but a lot of what I've seen personally (stares at. Fucking. Garten of Banban), it's a lot of post fall. Always investigating or going through the abandoned place where shit's gone wrong (thank you BATIM for starting the chapter-based formula -bangs head-)

But like. I've always thought about what it would be like for a mascot horror game to take place before the fall, or even during it depending on the execution.

Before the fall, you're either a kid who's a regular at the establishment (daycare, amusement park, whatever) or even an employee working there-

(or even MORE interestingly, if we go with a chapter-based thing or even similar to FNAF in terms of there's a set thing for whatever, the POV keeps changing between different people- wait I'm cooking. i'll get back to that later actually)

-And slowly as it all develops, you watch as everything begins to just. Fall apart. Employees leaving, the place coming down into disrepair, something's up with the main mascots of the place but you don't know what (at least in universe, we all know this formula as players)

Actually, coming back to the changing POVs, you can even draw in inspiration from DBH (I only watched gameplay back then oops) where the perspective changes between different people. A child enjoying their day, a first time employee, a long time employee, a parent of a child. Hell, depending on things, you could even have a moment where (depending on the location) you play as a fucking burglar looking to steal shit (before getting. Fucking bass boosted)

And eventually there'd come the inevitable end where it all closes down, leaving whatever living mascots inside to rot (insert Abandoned by Disney line here /j)

LIKE!!! I want to see people expand on the formula!! I want to see people fuck around and find out!!!

Honest to god, I might take this and run with it myself cause now I'M getting ideas.

[orshii]

Will I Ever See You Again? CHAPTER 4: Everything I Wanted

Author: orshii

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x reader

Warning: cursing, violence

Word count: 4,4 k

Summary: You were left alone with your brother, Yunho, and his best friend Hongjoong, after your parents' death. Yunho had someone to grieve with, but you? You had no one as your brother and his best friend pushed you away, singing becoming your only savior. There was one rule that Yunho made inside his friend group: “Don’t touch my sister”. And for this reason, Hongjoong had always kept his distance. But one night, you find yourself in danger. And from then on, Hongjoong does not leave your side. He is suddenly overprotective of you, and your relationship shifts and becomes fraught with tension and unspoken feelings, with secrets lurking beneath the surface and a painful past haunting you. Will you find out the secrets your brother and best friend have been keeping away from you? Will you be able to finally free yourself from your cruel past?

Will you fall in love amidst the chaos around you?

A/N: This is my favorite chapter so far. A lot of actions happening so be ready. The truth unfolds. Please listen to this song, it plays an important role in the story. Enjoy, reading! (sorry for the late update, if anyone is still interested at all lmao). Byee!

(Series Masterlist)

Taglist: @bvidzsoo @vixensss @deltamoon666 @scarfac3 @chatsgotmytongue

@xiang-zalea @cookiesandcreammy (taglist is open)

I felt my heart in my throat as I listened to the loud bangs coming from the doorway.

I looked at Hongjoong, panicked. "What should we do now? We can't fight them."

He slowly faced me, stood in front of me, grabbed the sides of my upper arms, and leaned down to be at my height. "Listen very carefully!" His tone got lower. "You have to leave the house as soon as possible, Y/N!" His face went dark as I saw that some stupid plan was playing in his head.

"No fucking way I'm going to leave you here, Hongjoong!" I told him, looking into his eyes desperately.

"Sugar," he cupped my face. "I'm going to follow you as soon as I've won enough time for you to leave safely." He looked back at the door as the outsiders got more impatient.

I held his hands still holding my face. "No, Joong, we fight with them together, or we leave together. I'm not going to leave you here. Please, Hongjoong!" I started to sob as my voice got quieter.

"Fuck, Y/N, it's not the time to be stubborn." He stepped away from me, getting angrier. He went to the window to peek outside.

I stepped next to him, so I could see five men standing in the dark, shouting for us to let them inside. "You know you can't do anything against five men. Please think a little bit, Hongjoong." I reached my hand towards his upper arm, to make sure he knew I was by his side, not the enemy. "Look, if we sneak out through the backdoor that leads towards the ocean, I'm sure we can leave them behind and call for help." I had an idea as I tried to convince him to come with me.

He looked stressed as he ran his fingers through his messy hair, then brushed his palms against his face, trying to think clearly. "Okay, then I'm going to call Yunho to speak to the rest of the gang, and we're going to trap them." He looked around the living room, still thinking.

"Help me gather some things in front of the door. I have a feeling they're going to break it in no time." He went near the armchair, lifting it as if it were a feather. I quickly ran to the kitchen to grab the chairs, and we put anything we could in front of the door.

"That's it. Now run!" he suddenly said, grabbing my right hand and pulling me along with him.

I had no time to think as I just focused on not falling. We quickly escaped through the backdoor. The chilly air of the night hit me like a rumble of thunder; I was wearing one of Yunho's purple hoodies only. The moon was up in the sky, showing the way towards the ocean with its brightness as we were running in the moonlight. We climbed over the fence, just to arrive at the neighboring street. Hongjoong still held my hand and didn't let it go, not even for a second.

I think I might need to start jogging because recently, I've been running for my life every day, it's not even a joke. My breathing started to get heavy. I looked behind me quickly to make sure no one was following us. I started to slow down as I thought I might throw up at any second.

"Sugar, don't slow down, we need to reach the ocean." He looked back at me, holding my hand stronger, pulling me along. Two streets remained until we reached the coast. Suddenly, I felt the need to look back again, and when I did, I saw two black shadows far away running after us.

"They are—following—us," I said heavily, my breathing becoming more uncontrolled. This wasn't the time to panic, so I tried to gather myself.

Hongjoong looked back. "Okay, sugar, they aren't that close. Keep going, we're nearly there." He tried to motivate me.

The houses were slowly disappearing as the air got saltier, whispering danger. The scenery changed into a darker scene, the sun barely visible, and the golden hour disappeared just minutes ago. After running without stopping, we were near the ocean, and I started to hear the loud crashing of the waves against the cliff. It wasn't a normal coast; there wasn't any sand slipping through your fingers—the only thing that could slip through your fingers was your life, as these waves were killers, crashing you against the cliff with the power of a boxer's stroke, multiplied by ten.

We arrived at the edge of the cliff, my legs shaking. I didn't know how I was even able to stand still. I hunched over as something in my throat wanted to escape. I breathed heavily, feeling like I was on a roller coaster. Hongjoong did the same. He was trained, but this much running could defeat an athlete as well. The sound of the crashing waves never stopped, making an unnatural beat. I straightened up when I felt a little bit better and looked down at the ocean. Not much distance separated us from the ocean.

"How the hell did they find us, for fuck's sake?" I heard Hongjoong behind my back.

I was no longer there. I fucking lost my mind. I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe, as I was so sick of this, sick of the constant running. I couldn't do it anymore. My legs gave up as I fell to the ground, trying to breathe in some air, but it just couldn't reach my lungs. Hongjoong stepped next to me as soon as I fell, to grab me. I felt like I was in a never-ending dream, where I had everything, I wanted, but suddenly it turned into a nightmare.

"Hey, sugar, look at me!" He grabbed my wet cheeks, and I didn't even realize I was crying. "Look at me, please, Y/N, stay with me!" His voice was like the ocean, but softer, more concerned. He was blurry, as I didn't see him because of my tears, but I looked at him.

"Good girl, now I need you to breathe in and out slowly." I heard his voice from the distance; it felt like I was hearing that familiar melody I always heard in the back of my mind. I felt as if my body obeyed him. I inhaled as the salty air reached my lungs finally, spreading like veins, then I exhaled, finally letting out the stress I had been through, coming back to Hongjoong, to the real world, where we were at the edge of a cliff and some fuckers wanted us dead.

I reached my hand to Hongjoong's hand, which was still holding my head. "As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you, sugar, I promise." His face was full of something I didn't recognize; his words hugged me, keeping me alive with every second.

I nodded as he helped me up from the ground, some sanity coming back to my mind. I looked behind Hongjoong and saw two figures coming our way. They didn't even run, as we were trapped here like rabbits. Hongjoong took out his phone from his pocket and quickly typed something on it, then switched it off just to throw it on the ground.

"Now, listen to me, Y/N, you have to trust me. Do you trust me?" I shouldn't, why would I? But he wasn't the enemy; he only wanted to protect me. I nodded, words not coming out of my mouth.

"We need to jump—they think they trapped us, but I know this place like the back of my hand. When I was a kid, we jumped from here all the time, it's really not that bad." He grabbed my upper arms to look straight into my eyes.

I looked at him with wide eyes. "Are you kidding me? You ask me to jump straight into those killer waves?" My voice was weak, barely escaping my lips.

"I'm going to be there, next to you, Y/N. We don't have time. They are going to think we are dead. But trust me, please, with only this thing." He tried to convince me, his voice sounding weak just like mine.

"Fuck…" I looked behind him at the two evil shadows closing the distance between us, then back to the waves that lured me like they promised life to me. "Okay, fuck, let's do this," I said, running my fingers through my hair.

"I'm proud of you, sugar, we can do this." He wiped my cheeks with a careful touch, scared not to break me. "I'm right by your side, I'm not letting you go, okay?" His voice was so soft, he could've convinced me to burn the whole world; I would've done it in a second.

I just nodded. He reached his hands towards me, and I accepted them, interlocking our fingers, our hands becoming a padlock with no key. He slowly leaned towards my face and pecked my cheeks.

"Together, on three. Are you ready?" He looked at me, his eyes giving me the power to do this fucked up plan where we could easily die.

"Ready," I said, nodding my head.

Hongjoong looked behind him for the last time and shouted, "GOODBYE, FUCKERS!" and he lifted his free hand in the air, just to show them his middle finger.

I would've laughed at that, but I was so fucking stressed I couldn't think of anything else other than the fact that I'm going to jump into the ocean.

"Okay, sugar, remember, don't let my hand go. I'll be there to protect you." He looked at me for the last time.

"Three, two, one!" He shouted as he stepped towards the edge, pulling me with him into the crashing waves, looking at us like some monsters waiting for their food, open-mouthed. The seconds were longer than hours; everything felt slow, like in a movie. I felt like I left my body. I felt the air in my lungs leaving me and the only thing I could focus on was Hongjoong's hand, making sure I didn't lose it. I heard a loud crashing noise, feeling the icy water hit my body. I closed my eyes as I felt the salty water entering my lungs, almost like it whispered to me, “Welcome to your last journey.”

≫ I would sink with you until we reach the bottom

Not letting the monsters catch us above ≪

Darkness was surrounding me, my body was numb, I didn't know where I was exactly, was I dead or was I alive? I didn't know it anymore, as my lungs were full of something salty, I didn't recognize. It was hard to breathe because something heavy, pushed me down into the dark, not letting me go. Chains choked my neck and my wrists, it became one with my skin, locking me down. I just couldn't escape.

Dim light hit my eyes, but still, I didn't see anything. I felt like I was blind, I was still in the dark, not letting the lights in. I inhaled the air, which wasn't salty anymore. It was fresh and warm.

The music hit my ears and I started singing. That was the moment when I realized I was standing on the familiar stage, curious eyes watching me, waiting for me to let my voice out so it could slowly crawl into their ears, possessing their brain as if it was some kind of superpower of mine.

♪ I had a dream,

I got everything I wanted ♪

My voice was so far away from me, that I felt like I was still underwater. I felt like all of this was a dream.

♪ And if I'm being honest

It might've been a nightmare ♪

That turned into a nightmare.

♪ Thought I can fly

So, I stepped off the Golden ♪

Suddenly I felt, as if I was on the edge of the cliff, ready to fly straight into the crashing waves.

♪ But when I wake up, I see

You with me ♪

I saw Hongjoong next to me, when I stepped closer to the edge, I felt two hands pushing me down into the waves, sending me down, alone.

♪ And you say

"As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you

If I could change the way that you see yourself

You wouldn't wonder

"They don't deserve you" ♪

The familiar hands caught me, while falling, just to protect me from the waves, just so we fell into the ocean together. I felt safe around those arms, I felt like I was drowning but he still brought me back to life.

♪ I tried to scream

But my head was underwater

And it feels like yesterday was a year ago

But I don't wanna let anybody know ♪

Where was the reality? Where was the reality, where we escaped from the ocean, which felt like an eternity? I felt like we were locked down into the depth of the ocean forever.

In reality, it was only a few seconds as Hongjoong helped me out from the crashing waves, being the helping hand, that I needed my whole life.

Something changed there inside of me and nothing was the same anymore.

My eyes found him in the crowd, but I only saw him, everything was black, but he was shining. He was the light in my darkness. Just when we were in the ocean I opened my eyes for a moment, just to see him, holding me like his life depended on it.

I locked my eyes with him. He looked at me like I was the shining moon in the dark night.

♪ If I knew it all then, would I do it again?

Would I do it again? ♪

The melody ended, and I felt like my heart was pumping blood into my body fast, I was afraid I might explode. I wasn't myself; I couldn't recognize the strange people around me. I felt empty inside, my body was there, suddenly dancing in the crowd, I don't remember if I drank something, but probably I didn't have to, because I felt dizzy enough from this strange feeling that wasn't even a feeling. Something pushed my chest so hard; that I couldn't breathe. I felt strange hands around me, touching me. I wanted them to stop, but I couldn't let out my voice, it stuck halfway in my throat. I wanted to escape from there, but I was still in the dark.

I felt one, now familiar hand, grabbing my wrist. Two fiery eyes looked at me like they could burn me alive right there, I wouldn't even care. He dragged me along, through the moving bodies, through a door. Shining light hit me again, dragging me out from the dark, as we reached the bathroom. Hongjoong pushed me inside, letting my wrist go.

"Get the fuck out!" He shouted at the pair who were making out innocently in the bathroom. When they saw Hongjoong’s furious face they were running for their lives.

His furious voice brought me back to the real world all of a sudden, and I started to feel my surroundings, as the air got into my lungs finally. Chills ran through my body, and I started to feel the numbness escaping my body, as I was myself again. What the hell was happening to me?

Suddenly, I was standing in front of Hongjoong, trying to remember what happened in the last few hours, as I wasn't really myself from yesterday.

"What are you doing, Y/N?" Hongjoong's voice was dark, it sounded like he was furious and I didn't know the cause of it.

I stepped back a little, as he stepped towards me, we played this game until my back reached the cold wall of the bathroom.

"I'm not doing anything." I let my voice out finally, I felt like I hadn't been speaking for at least a year, and my voice came out weak and quiet.

"I saw as that fucker touched you and you let him? Are you really that desperate for attention?" His eyes were full of desire, with jealousy. He leaned closer to my face, his right hand on the wall next to my head.

My blood started to boil. Why was he acting like this? I was in a state where I just didn't understand anything at all and to be honest I didn't even care.

I looked at him furiously. "Why the fuck do you even care of what am I doing? You didn't even look at me since yesterday.” My voice came out unfazed. “I don't have the energy for this now, Hongjoong." I said, as I stepped out from his cage and went to open the door. But as I opened the door it was shot back right then, as I saw a hand on it pushing it back with a force.

"Don't you dare to run away from me, sugar!" He said stepping close to my back, whispering it into my neck.

I slowly turned around, looking at him sharply. "What if I am?" My voice came out a little teasingly.

He suddenly pushed me against the door by my neck, his hands around it like a chain.

"You can't run away; I won't let you." He leaned closer to my face, his hands tightening around my neck. It wasn't hurtful, he had got me in a chokehold but still, I felt like it was the most caring touch I have ever experienced.

I stayed quiet, I couldn't really say anything at all, because of his hands around my neck. My heart was racing quickly as I tried to breathe.

"I think about you all the fucking time, you drive me crazy, and I just can't watch standing still as someone else is touching you." He said with a tone I never heard from him, it whispered possession and safeness.

"Why?" This was the only word I could somehow push over my lips.

His hands got loose around my neck, as he slowly started caressing the two sides of my face. "Because you are mine, and mine only." His lips were almost touching mine as his voice came out so demanding I felt like I'm going to melt right into his hands.

I wanted to kiss him so badly, I felt like I couldn't breathe without him anymore. But I had one last question.

"Why are you doing all of this? This protective side of you and shit." I tried to explain my question as I wanted to know why was I this important to him.

"I promised your dad I'm going to protect you at all costs." His eyes were now on the wall next to me, he looked like some memories were playing in front of him. Some bad memories, because his eyes started to water.

"Hey, look at me." I cupped his face, lifting his head towards me to look into my eyes.

"What happened? Do you know something about my father's death?" I looked at him my eyes full of concern as I saw how suddenly Hongjoong got influenced by some memories.

"I—It's…yes." He looked into my eyes, but he seemed like he wasn't there, it felt like he was in a memory at this moment.

"Tell me Hongjoong, please. I don't fucking know a thing about how he died, about what happened. Does Yunho know?" My voice got weaker as I was on the verge of crying.

He just nodded. "We didn't tell you because we didn't want to put you in danger. All of this shit is dangerous, as your dad experienced it on his own. The gang, that attacked you two weeks ago killed your father." He was looking at me, trying to explain all the things that happened in the past. But as he said those words 'killed your father', everything went quiet for a moment, I thought I might die right there. Tears started to appear in my eyes.

He continued. "He was part of that criminal gang, it was a trader gang, still is, doing some illegal trading shit, with guns and even people. We didn't know how your father got into that gang, we only found it out the day when he died." Hongjoong's voice cracked a little, getting weaker and weaker. My breathing started to get quicker as I was listening to him.

"It was one morning when we were in the kitchen. You and Yunho were already in school, and I was alone with your father when suddenly some people broke into the house and kidnapped both of us. I didn't know what the hell was happening, and your dad said nothing at all, just to shut up.” His face looked full of emotions, as if he was back on that day, experiencing it again. “They took us somewhere, I don't know, it looked like an abandoned factory. They tied us to a chair. And suddenly they were arguing about some stolen money and a man who got saved by your father, so they couldn't trade him. I didn't really understand what was happening. They started to be rough, they threw your dad on the floor. I have only some memories about the whole thing..." He suddenly stopped; his eyes were as empty as a black hole. "...I—I saw as they—" His breathing started to quicken, tears rolling down his face. My heart was aching, seeing him like this, my tears blinding my eyes.

"Hey, hey, look at me, Hongjoong." I cupped his face, forcing him to look at me. Now it was my turn to help him out. "It's okay, it was a long time ago." I tried to bring him back here, into the present.

He grabbed my wrists, looking into my eyes with so much guilt, that his eyes were screaming at me. "I— couldn't do anything, Y/N—they killed him right there…and I couldn't do anything at all." He started to sob, hiding his face in my neck. "His last words were to protect you no matter what. And I promised—I promised I'd never let anything happen to you." He mumbled into my neck, his voice barely recognizable. I was frozen; I couldn't perceive what he just said. Suddenly I didn't know where I was. I only felt Hongjoong against me, as he let his heart out, confessing his sins to me, without fear. The fact that my father was killed also killed half of my heart, leaving emptiness on that side. And the fact that Hongjoong saw it all and blamed himself killed the other half of my heart, leaving me heartless as my thoughts flew at me like furious birds, killing every part of me.

I was suddenly a bird in a cage, not even wanting to leave the emptiness.

My subconscious reached for my hands to bury them in Hongjoong's black and blonde hair. Trying to calm him down, as I couldn't even calm myself. "It's okay, Joong. It's not your fault." I said quietly.

He slowly lifted his head and looked at me with red eyes, tears still on his face. "We tried—alongside Yunho, we tried to get revenge for him. We entered that gang with pen names so they didn't know who we were. They didn't recognize me, as I bleached my hair like this back then. At first, the plan was working really well, they didn't know who we were. Then somehow, they found out, and that's when they started to attack you and us too." He looked down at the floor, looking guilty, looking like he already accepted his fate.

I slowly buried my face in my palms, as I needed to process all the things he said. This was fucked up; the whole situation was so fucked up, I didn't know what to do.

"You knew… you knew the whole time how my father died and you didn't tell me…" I said as little tears rolled down my face, without my knowing. "Yunho pretended he didn't know it, he lied to my fucking face, kept me like a bird in a cage…" I didn't feel anything at this point, I never felt this heartbroken. My chest was hurting, I felt like my heart was burning at that moment, leaving only ashes behind.

Hongjoong looked at me with wide eyes, trying to say something, but words didn't come out. "I could've helped if I knew…We could've avenged him, together. But I was a fucking princess closed in a tower that had no exit, Hongjoong. I lost all of my feelings." I was crying now, tears rolling down my face like a waterfall. "You two were there for each other, but who was there for me? Huh? No one." I was angry at him, at Yunho, at myself for letting my anger off on Hongjoong. "Yunho got into this shit because of you." I pointed at him, losing all of my sanity. He couldn't say anything as his face told me too many things. Disappointment, sadness, guilt, regret. Anger took me over, so I said some things I didn't mean at all. "My father died because of you, Hongjoong." That was the stupidest sentence that had ever escaped my mouth, but I said it, and there was no turning back, as Hongjoong's face returned to its emotionless position, where I just couldn't read anything.

I couldn’t look at him anymore, as I turned over, opening the door. I wanted to disappear from there, I didn't want to be near him. I just wanted to disappear from the world. As I realized what I had said to him, my heart was clenching, and I felt shame crawling into my heart, not wanting to leave it. I went out into the dark, chilly night, I just wanted to clear my head, and the only solution was to go as far as possible from here. I sat in my car, turned on the engine, and drove away from this shitty town, running away from my problems, as this was the easiest thing to do.

≫ The red string connecting us now bleeds, 

Leaving drops of blood behind, 

Showing the way towards me ≪

-Previous Part- Next Part>

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts [[Series Masterlist]]

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

There's nothing worse than finding out you've been lied to. Five years after having her heart ripped out, a knock at Charlotte's door turns her whole world upside down and she doesn't know how to feel about it.

or

Simon fucked up big time and has his own world turned upside down. Price thinks it might be karma.

TW: Smut, angst, fluff, mental health issues, past abuse, torture, mentions of past rape, pregnancy, PTSD, mentions of attempted suicide, the usual warnings for COD looool

A/N:

I finally caved and made a Tumblr lmao I'll be honest, this fandom intimidates the fuck out of me. Cross posting here from Ao3.

This story follows a Two Act structure. It will begin with the prologue which is set in current times (really kicking this story off with a bang lmaoooo). Then Act One will be set in the past and then Act Two is back in the present.

I’m going to be playing with different POVs to get a real sense of what's going on and there will be a lot of Ghost POV because I love being in his brain :’) I also won’t be tagging each chapter individually so please read the tags here and they will be updated as needed.

Now, to clarify some shit;

I’ve played around with the timeline and shit to make things work better and had to fill in some gaps. We know that Ghost joined the military after the 911 attacks and I had him be 18 when that happened (meaning he was born in 1983). If I made him any older, he’d be even older than I wanted him to be at present times. As it was now, he turned out at 40 in 2023 (when I started this fic). I didn't really want him to be that old (not that 40s old, but you know lmao) so for the sake of this story, ‘present time’ is 2019 and he’s 36. 

And the last note; I’m in fact from Manchester myself. Ghost doesn’t have a Manchester accent in the least. No idea why, I always presumed it was something about him joining the military, maybe he picked up an accent similar to a London one or something, but boy is that accent not Mancunian. Not that its a bad thing because I fucking hate Mancunian accents and I say that as someone who has one lololol I won't be mentioning the fact his accent isn't quite right in the story ‘cause that's just awkward :’)

Some chapters will be accompanied with a song that fits (sometimes loosely) the theme of the chapter.

Prologue

Act One: Chapter One

Act One: Chapter Two

Act One: Chapter Three

Act One: Chapter Four

Act One: Chapter Five

Act One: Chapter Six

Act One: Chapter Seven

Act One: Chapter Eight

Act One: Chapter Nine

Act One: Chapter Ten

Act One: Chapter Eleven

Act One: Chapter Twelve

Act One: Chapter Thirteen

Act One: Chapter Fourteen

Act One: Chapter Fifteen

Act One: Chapter Sixteen

Act One: Chapter Seventeen

Act One: Chapter Eighteen

Act One: Chapter Nineteen

Act One: Chapter Twenty

Act One: Chapter Twenty One

Act One: Chapter Twenty Two

Act One: Chapter Twenty Three

Act One: Chapter Twenty Four

Act One: Chapter Twenty Five

Act One: Chapter Twenty Six

Act One: Chapter Twenty Seven

Interlude

Act Two: Chapter One

Act Two: Chapter Two

Act Two: Chapter Three