#then she goes and pulls me out of the crowd to tell me she wants to leave and my bf is gonna take her home

[super-done-dead]

so much

[writersdrug]

Bartender!Simon accidentally running into Waitress!Reader while she’s carrying a bunch of drinks for a table, causing them to spill all over herself 👉🏻👈🏻

Even more bonus points if she’s dressed in a white shirt, iykyk 👀

You're onto something here

Also, combining this with the ask about reader snooping through Simon's flat on the 3rd floor

Warnings: NSFW, slight humiliation, Simon goes from gentleman to having nasty nasty thoughts

It's a busy night - when mid-September rolls in, the nights get colder, and people gravitate towards the warm lighting of the bar through the street-front window. You still have a couple of hours left on your shift, which means Ghost still has a while, too.

He can't remember how many beers he's poured tonight. The noise of the shaker is drowned out by the buzz in his head. Mack wants another PBR. Table eleven still needs their shots and two Martinis. He's in the zone, pouring liquor and juices and bitters with practiced skill. He catches every word from the patrons at the bar - at least, every order. He mumbles out a quick "step back, please" when a gaggle of girls tries to stand near the end of the bar, waiting for their drinks. The bar is completely seated, people stuffing themselves between chairs to place their orders. Somon's got half a mind to tell them to clear out and get the fuck back, but he has to be civil. It won't be this hellish for too much longer - Price texted Simon that he'd be there in a bit to help.

Simon's more concerned about you: you're running around, delivering food and drink, bringing condiments and refilling waters - you're weaving between tables, maneuvering around bodies with a quick "sorry" or "scuse me"... you're at one table, and in the blink of an eye, you're at another. Simon sometimes doesn't realize you went into the kitchen until you're busting the door open with plates of food. You're covered in a light sheen of sweat, your usual chipper attitude dampened by the Friday night rush. Simon doesn't miss the way you scowl when you hear a table calling for you, when both of your hands are full.

You push yourself through the crowd of girls hovering by the end of the bar. You huff, grabbing a tray and some glasses. "Is it national 'Go to a Bar' day?" You mumble, squeezing behind Simon and heading to the free soda gun.

He barely makes an effort to reply. "Must be." He grunts, pulling several bottles from the shelves and setting them on the counter. He's snatching this and that - you fill your glasses with water, sliding behind him and grabbing the various drinks on the end of the back and stacking them on your tray.

A man elbowed his way between the patrons at the bar. "Can I get another DogFish IPA?" He says, sticking his glass across the bar.

Simon groans internally, but he keeps a stoic face. He quickly leans to his left and reaches for the glass - right as you were picking up your tray, now stacked with drinks. You stumble back, not expecting Simon to be so close to you, and bump into one of the girls that crowds by the bar's entrance.

Simon feels his stomach drop when he sees each of the glasses topple over. You're instantly drenched, alcohol splashing across your eyes, which you have squeezed shut from the onslaught of fluids. Your shirt is absolutely soaked; a few of the glasses fall to the ground and shatter upon impact, alerting the entire bar and making their heads turn to you - the man who handed Simon the glass is ogling at you shamelessly, and the girl you'd bumped into turns around with a simple oh…

You're frozen, eyes wide and your entire front soaking. Your white shirt is practically see-through, clinging to your skin and providing little coverage for your pink, lacy bra. You look mortified and on the verge of tears. Your panicked stare drifts to Simon - you think he's going to yell at you, or worse: give you the silent treatment for the rest of the night because he's too frustrated to speak.

Simon is trying to keep his own staring under wraps – your tits look absolutely tantalizing, hugged so tightly by your wet shirt – but he snaps out of his daze when he sees your teary eyes. He drops everything - you're the most important person in the room right now. He quickly takes the tray from you and sets it aside.

"Here-" he shoves a fresh rag into your hands. "Cover up with that." He says, taking you by your shoulders and leaning down to your level. "Third floor, there's a dresser on th' left side, second drawer has shirts. Go dry off 'n get a new shirt, I'll clean this up."

You're too stunned to cry. You're angry, embarrassed, frustrated... there's so much happening around you, so many eyes staring at your fuck-up, but Simon's eyes keep you from losing control of your emotions. He doesn’t seem angry or irate – he’s worried about you. Shouldn't you help him clean up? It's your mess after all. "But-"

"Hush. Go on, luv - you're practically see-through." He quickly turns you around and gently shoves you into the crowd, and you hurry away to the stairwell without protest, holding the rag close to your chest.

Simon sighs. The pub slowly starts to return to normal, though people aren't trying as hard to get their drinks. A sense of shame seems to hang around everyone’s heads, though there was only one party at fault, here. He stares daggers at the girls who are still hovering by the bar. The one you ran into is gawking back in fear - she knows she messed up.

"Get the fuck back." Simon seethes, storming over to the POS. They all scramble away and press against the wall, afraid he might start swinging at them. "Finish ya drinks and leave. 'M closin' your tab. You're done."

They dissipate back into the crowd, right as Soap pops his head out of the kitchen. "Heard a crash, ye alright?"

"Fuckin' wankers can't understand simple orders." Simon grumbles, grabbing a broom from the corner and sweeping up the glass. "Slag couldn't get her ass out th' fuckin walkway and made bird spill a tray."

"Christ, she ok?"

"Upstairs. Changin'. Shirt nearly disappeared when it got wet."

"Need me tae check up on-"

"Got a fuckin' kitchen t' run, don't ya?"

Johnny scoffs and disappears back into the kitchen. Simon continues sweeping - he spots Price jogging up to the building throught he street front window, and he sighs in relief.

Upstairs, you do just as Simon instructed. You're topless, your bra still a bit damp after you tried to towel-dry it with he rag Simon gave you. You're sifting through his drawer, face scrunched as you shuffle through and inspect each shirt. You're a bit miffed at how many plain, black t shirts he has - has he ever stepped foot into an Old Navy? - but, eventually, you hit the jackpot.

You pull a shirt from the very bottom of the drawer. It's army green, a bit worn over the years, with a bit of a natural, masculine musk clinging to it. The right front chest has a skull, a sword, and wings, along with the table "Task Force 141". On the back, in large letters: "LT. RILEY".

A smile creeps its way onto your face. He never said which shirt... he said any shirt. And this is the one you want.

Your bra comes off quicky, the fabric still wet and uncomfortable. You toss it somewhere on the bed behind you – you’re sure Simon wouldn’t mind if you hung it over the back of his chair, right? Can’t be wearing a wet bra while you’re running around the restaurant; you’d have a bra-shaped water stain on your shirt. Or, worse – you’d get sick. And you know for a fact (though he’s never said it to you) that Simon would kick himself if you got sick on the job.

You quickly pull the shirt on - it swallows you, both in size and scent. It smells just like him - the bodywash you catch a whiff of when you pass him, the slight muskiness that surrounds you when he reaches above you to grab something - it's all there, just tenfold. You stand up and pull it down; it covers your thighs down to your shorts, almost making it look like you weren’t wearing any to an unassuming person.

You take a peek around the room: it’s quite cozy, even with a lack of real décor. The bed sits against the middle of the wall, with Carolina blue sheets and a grey comforter. The pillows look rather worn, but there’s at least three of them. There’s a television on the dresser that faces the bed, and a small bookshelf in the corner next to an antique-looking chair, except the shelf is filled with mostly keepsakes and memorabilia. Any books in the room are stacked on the edges of the two bay windows, embedded in the brick wall that faces the street. The only lighting comes from three lamps: one on the nightstand by his bed, a taller one next to the clothes rack near the bathroom, and a lantern-looking lamp that he’s somehow attached next to the door.

Curiosity gets the better of you – discovering anything about Simon that he hasn’t already told you is like striking oil. You pad over to the shelf, leaning down to inspect the various objects. A balaclava, rolled up and tucked behind a box. In said box is a medal, bronze and dull, with a fist tightly holding a blazing torch. A worn-down pair of sunglasses lay next to a ring. A green stone sits on a silver band, nestled between two ivy vines. There’s a picture of the four of them: Simon, Johnny, Price, and even Kyle – you had assumed they had met Kyle through the restaurant industry, but there they all were. Dressed in military uniforms, holding guns and posing with stern faces in front of a helicopter. Simon was wearing a rather terrifying skull mask, the rest of him completely covered by his uniform. You were only able to recognize Simon from his brown eyes, but the man in the photo looked entirely different from the bartender downstairs.

Fuck! You completely forgot that you were a waitress, sniffing around your manager’s office when you should be tending to your tables. You turned on your heel and left Simon’s room, running down the stairs two at a time.

Simon was still in the eye of the storm – barely a word had been passed between him and Price, other than a simple hello when he had first hopped behind the bar. Simon was keeping an eye on your tables, which were currently satisfied for the time being – but damn, what was taking you so long? Were you showcasing all of his shirts? The thought of that would’ve had him biting his cheek to prevent a boner, but he was too busy to be anything but concerned for you.

On cue, you come bounding down the stairs, throwing yourself back into the busy crowd as you tie your server apron around your waist. Simon pours a tap, barely able to make out your form flitting through the crowd, making sure your tables are well-off and happy. Price calls your name over the din of the crowd, and you squeeze yourself through the mass of people to collect the drinks sitting on the end of the bar.

“Sorry!” you exclaim, setting your drinks on a tray. “Had to mop myself up a bit with the rag. Did anyone order anything from my tables?” you ask, looking at Simon.

He’s… occupied. His eyes are trained on your shirt. His shirt. That army green that brought up so many old memories, ones he hadn’t thought of in a long time,..

His shirt. Covering your body – and, fucking Christ, you’re not wearing a bra. You’re completely naked under that shirt.

You’re confused. He’s staring at you with such a shocked, glassy pair of eyes that you wonder if you’ve shot him in the leg. You look down at what he’s staring at – oh, right. The shirt. A part of you heats up in embarrassment, and a part in… something else. Yes, I took your shirt. I’ve got your name on my back. If he’s thoroughly upset by this, he’s not expressing it. And if you’re mistaken in the thought that he looks aroused (you wouldn’t be surprised to find him drooling behind the mask – you know how delicious you look right now), you’ll give him the shirt back eventually and pretend this never happened.

“Thanks for earlier.” You spoke over the noisy chatter around you. “This, uh- I hope it’s ok, it was the first shirt I saw.”

Bullshit. He knows he buried that thing deep in his drawer. He did it on purpose. “’S fine.” He mumbles, still dazed.

You glance at him as you carefully balance the tray on your hand. The printer is dealing ticket after ticket of drinks as Price enters them – the man looks at Simon with a frustrated, tight-lipped glare, working double-time to push orders through.

“I’ll be back to grab the rest.” You say quickly. You scurry off, careful to avoid slamming into anyone this time. Simon nearly has a heart attack when he sees his last name across your back. You might as well have his bite mark branded onto the side of your neck.

This opens up a nasty can of worms for him. He’s a goner – he’s thinking about chasing you around the bar, after hours, while all you’re wearing is his shirt; snatching you up and slamming you down on the bar, shoving his face in between your thighs; what you sound like when he pumps you with his fingers; pounding you against the wall in the office, hips crashing into yours as he growls and grunts in your ear, “wanna wear my fuckin’ name, baby? hmm? wanna make sure everyone in this fuckin’ pub knows you’re mine? I’ll gladly fuckin’ help you, fuckin’ tease-“; god, he needs you, he needs to know what you feel like wrapped around his dick, what you sound like when he’s reaching those spots, he needs your nails in his back and your palm smacking him across his face and your teeth on his neck-

“Simon!”

John’s- no, Captain Price’s voice shuts off the movie playing in his mind. He looks at him, barely recognizing the growing frustration in his eyes – Simon’s fighting his own demons right now, and he isn’t even sure if his Captain’s wrath can save him.

“Stop thinkin’ with your Pork Sword and get your arse back on bar.” Price barks – a few of the regulars laugh at that, and Simon realizes he’d had an audience.

He clears his throat and grabs a ticket, quickly reading it and grabbing a glass. He forces himself to let go of the fantasy – he’ll have all night to think about it once he closes. That, or he’ll be hating himself for even thinking of you in that way, especially when the situation wasn’t in your favor. For now, though, he’s got a job to do. He continues to pour and stir and shake drinks left and right, occasionally stealing glances at you, prancing around with his title.

He knows one thing’s for certain – your bra is still somewhere in his room.

[princesssmars]

it's getting sticky!

a little vi x reader

wc : 1.166

inspired by this tweet. don't look at me. sequel and threequel here :3

contains : boxer!vi ib this, fem!reader, scissoring, vi's a horndog wbk.

a/n: can't wait for act 4 to drop next week don't worry they just took a week's break guys. pitfighter vi changed my life i had to keep pausing the episodes to scream into my hands baby girl come home.

ever since vi had met you, she had been discovering quite a few new things about herself.

she is apparently an active sleeptalker, has a habit of biting her lips when thinking, and once she gets you in bed she needs to keep going until she passes out.

she’d always known she had a soft spot for pretty girls, constantly flirting with and taking home the girls who showed up to her matches with her face plastered on their shirts and phone cases. but eventually, she started to grow a bit bored with the routine of a night of rough sex with a stranger before parting ways, never to meet again. well, hopefully. unfortunately, some of the girls could get a bit obsessed. one of the cons of being too good with a strap.

but like a deity above heard her secret prayers she spots you in the crowd at one of her shows, oh-so-pretty face stuck staring down at your phone as a girl she assumes is your friend looks on to the match with glee. as cliche as it was, she was instantly intrigued.

she had no choice but to come up to you after the show, black leather jacket slung over her shoulders as she greets you with a flirty smile and one of her most trusty pick up lines to make you laugh.

you aren't impressed. you do call her cute, which is a win in her book. luckily your friend is a huge fan, and manages to persuade you into giving her your number for an autograph. she swears she hears the girl call her hot when your friend drags you away, and she doesn’t hear you disagree.

you make it very clear at the start of the relationship that you know about her reputation with other women, and that you don't want to have sex until you are sure she is committed to you. and while she obviously respects your boundaries, taking the care to make she never goes too far whenever things do start to get a little more intimate, she has to admit it’s a bit of a struggle to keep it in her pants. she swears after a few weeks you start teasing her, hugging her from behind when you're in a towel fresh out of the shower and wearing tops with lower and lower necklines.

and once you finally do tell her you're ready to go all the way? the girl is stuck on you from sunset to sundown, wringing countless orgasms from you until you have to use the last of your energy to tap out.

she adores how you can keep up with her, especially after she successfully wins a match. the adrenaline from the fight is still pumping through her veins, sweat and bruises dotted over her skin as she rushes over to you once she’s cleared of injuries and lifts you up in her arms, twirling you around until she starts to get dizzy. the sound of your squeals and giggles as she bites and kisses at your neck one of her favorite sounds in the world.

it can only be paralleled by the noises you’re making now, desperate and pitched-up whines and gasps as you sit across from her, eyes drooping and head falling back as you grind your hips into hers. she had been so desperate to get her hands on you that she couldn’t be bothered to pull down either of your underwear, the friction from her boxers and your panties making her eyes roll into the back of her head. she’s sure the grip her hand has on your leg propped up next to her is too tight and sure to leave a slight bruise, but you only subtly push it closer to her grip, biting your lip when her nails dig into your skin.

“come on, come on pretty girl, keep giving it to me.”

her hoarse voice pants, tilting her hips just the slightest to the side so that her clit rubs even harder on the wet fabric below, brushing against yours the slightest bit to make you let out a needy moan. normally her dirty words are enough to send you into overdrive but she can tell that tonight the euphoria is getting to you, too deep in the experience to register what she’s saying. her other hand that's not gripping onto you for dear life reaches over, her breath hitching when her cunt presses even harder into yours, and gently but firmly grabs you by the back of the head so your head is upright again.

“vi, ‘h my god-” your moan is cut off by her plush lips harshly pressing into yours and sticking her tongue in your mouth, muscles massaging each other before she pulls away and watches the string of spit that connects you to each other. a dopey grin grows on her face before she ever so slightly tilts your head down, laughing at the strained gasp that leaves your throat.

even with fabric there you’re obviously both soaked, dark and light materials stained by yourselves and each other and only growing more intense by the second. it creates a perfect blend of embarrassment but arousal in you that forces you to grind yourself into her harder, chasing that high for the both of you as you hear the audible noises of your bodies meeting.

as you both get closer you start to get clingier, your trembling hands resting on vi’s shoulders as a subtle hint that she picks up on immediately. she helps you to wrap your arms around her shoulders as hers moves to your back, squeezing your sides and rubbing over the skin when your teary exhausted voice calls her name over and over as you get closer and closer to the edge.

“vi, vi, ‘m so close, please, oh shit harder-”

“i know, i know, baby. just a little more, fuck you feel so good, prettiest girl, god prettiest pus-”

she smiles and bites into your shoulder when your orgasm finally hits you, the desperate grinding of your hips paired with the breathy whining from your throat right next to her ear sending her to nirvana right after you, broad hands pulling your overstimulated into hers so she can keep using your pliant body to carry her through her orgasm.

you sit in each other's arms for a minute, hands softly brushing through each other's hands and pressing kisses to each other shoulders. she loves these little moments with you where she can just bask in the fuzzy post-sex bliss with you. she loves it even more when she delicately rubs herself into you to test the waters, always met by your lovesick giggle as you hold onto her tighter and return the movement, ready to go as soon as she gives you a sign.

im pregnant and pifighter vi is the father

[babydollmarauders]

MISTLETOE MAKE UP — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which luke plays christmas cupid after watching jack mope around missing his ex-girlfriend. (6.2k words)

notes: honestly hard to believe that this is my final hockey fic, i just wanna say thank you to everyone who has interacted with any of my fics because i really appreciate all the love and kindness that’s spread on here, and a big thank you to @thedevilrisen for allowing me the honor of participating in this wonderful Ho Ho Hockey event as my farewell to NHL fic writing 🤍 i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it 🤍

“i’ll pay you.”

desperation drips from the lowly whispered words as Luke unlaces his skates from beside his captain.

“i don’t want your money.” Nico rolls his eyes at the young player, matching his hushed tone. both men give a quick once over at their teammate across the locker room before their heads dip low, bowing together to continue their private conversation, “why are you so set on this?”

“i can’t answer that.” Luke huffs out quickly, Nico’s curiosity rising farther, “can you just make it happen?”

Nico shrugs, “i guess so. but i want the answer after the party.”

Luke pulls away, kicking off his skates, “that’s fine. if all goes to plan, you’ll understand my plan quicker than that.”

with that, Luke turns away, carrying on in his undressing after the conclusion of practice.

***

“secret santa time! everyone take one name from the hat as i make my way around!” Nico’s voice booms across the locker room, attracting everyone’s attention to the black New Jersey Devils hat grasped in his hand, nearly overflowing with pieces of folded paper inside.

eyes meeting with Luke’s, Nico gives a nearly inconceivable nod, affirming their previous conversation. he makes his way around the locker room, letting each player pick a name out of the hat, purposefully skipping over his close friend until he’s the last to pick.

with a subtle switch of the hat to his other hand, the Devils captain drops one final slip of folded paper into the empty hat before making his way over.

Jack disinterestedly plucks the final piece of paper from the hat, his dulled eyes widening as he reads the name.

“alright, everyone has a name! that’s who you’re getting a gift for!”

“hey, Neeks?” Jack’s voice pipes up.

“NO SWITCHING!” Nico calls out, cutting his fellow forward off before he can get the chance to ask. “see you all for practice tomorrow!”

avoiding Jack’s lingering presence, Nico grabs his things before hauling out of the locker room; leaving his friend behind him, blinking in wonder as he questions what the hell he’s gonna do now.

Nico’s already typing out a quick text as he climbs into his car, hitting send before he even leaves the arena.

to: Y/N

Hey, just did the secret santa drawing. You have Jack. No switches. See you at the party!

***

“i want it to be cute.” her statement causes a chuckle to bubble up Luke’s throat.

“the whole point of an ugly christmas sweater is for it to be ugly, y/n.” his reply earns him a disapproving groan from the other side of the phone.

“you know what i mean,” she lilts, “of course it’ll be an ugly christmas sweater, but there’s a difference between cute ugly and ugly ugly, ya know?”

“uhhh, no? is this a girly thing?” Luke questions his friend as he beeline’s through the crowded department store, knowing exactly what to grab. “like when you used to tell Jack that you would be ready in five minutes but really you meant fifteen minutes but you didn’t wanna say fifteen minutes cause you knew he’d whine?”

“what? you know what, nevermind. i don’t have time for this. thank you for grabbing me a sweater but i have to get back to work, i’ll see you at the party.” her words come out rushed and whispered, cluing Luke in that her break is over and she’s back in the office.

“yeah, i’ll bring the sweater to the party for you. see you.”

his eyes lock on the bright red sweater in front of him, a perfect match to one he knows is laying on the back of a chair in he and Jack’s apartment. pulling her size off the rack, he makes his way to the cashier and pays before heading back out to his car; hiding the sweater in the glovebox so his brother doesn’t see it.

***

the sweater is slightly itchy and she knows he definitely grabbed the wrong size.

“does it fit okay?”

no.

“yeah,” she nods, the perfectly styled curls in her hair bouncing with every bob of her head, “thank you, Lukey. i really appreciate it.“

“it’s no problem.” he swallows, his eyes drifting toward the closed entry of Nico’s apartment, the loud laughter of his team and their significant others carrying through the thick wooden door. “you ready?”

“do you want me to lie? or should i be honest?” her self deprecating chuckle tells Luke all he needs to know.

“isn’t it time you guys faced each other? maybe this is what you need.”

“what i need is a drink,” a deep puff of breath releases from her mouth in an exasperated sigh.

“what am i even doing here? i said yes to coming over a month ago, when i actually belonged here, Luke. nobody wants me here except apparently you and Nico.” Luke’s heart aches at the unshed tears that gather in her eyes, obviously reminiscing on what went down just a month prior.

“no, we all want you here. what you mean is that you don’t think Jack wants you here.” he corrects, “which is also wrong. he may not admit it, but i know he’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“if he wanted to see me, he would call me. or text me. or show up at my damn door.” she mutters dejectedly, “we broke up. he doesn’t wanna see me.”

“y/n-” Luke starts, the truth sitting on the tip of his tongue.

that Jack has been miserable without her.

that he’s been driving Luke crazy asking how she’s doing.

that Jack hasn’t called or texted or shown up at her door because he thinks she doesn’t want to see him.

that he hasn’t been himself since they broke up and that it’s causing Luke to wanna put his head through a wall.

but before Luke can voice any of that, the door beside him swings open, the hinges creaking as his older brother steps into the hall.

“oh,” Jack stops; freezing when he locks eyes with the girl standing just a few feet away, “hey.”

her back steels and for anyone else, it would seem as though y/n is completely unbothered; indifferent to the run-in. but Luke could spot the sadness in her eyes from a mile away.

“hi.” she stammers, the hands in which she grips a gift bag of red and green tissue paper being shoved behind her back.

the hallway is quiet for a moment, the two ex-lovers silently inspecting each other with an identical expression of love and loss; wanting and wishing; pain and desperation.

and when Luke sees they’ve taken notice of their matching sweaters, looking down at themselves before their eyes dart back to each other? he knows, it’s time to get his plan started.

“let’s get this party started!”

taking the lead, Luke enters through the doorway, the two exes following behind him at respectable distances until they arrive into the crowded apartment.

y/n tries to keep close to Luke, but quickly loses track of him as he disappears amongst his teammates.

“Y/N!” a mellow accent calls out, a hefty arm slinging over her shoulder as she sets the aforementioned gift bag on a table of presents.

“hi, Timo.” she smiles, gifting a quick squeeze to the taller man beside her.

but as she hugs one man, her eyes drift to another, accidentally colliding with the icy blue of Jack’s as he stares at his teammate with a look that sends a rack of shivers down her spine.

“i didn’t think you were coming,” the swiss grins, finally taking a step back and letting his arm fall back down to his side. his eyebrows lift as he looks between the former couple, “are you guys back together?”

at the question, Jack coughs, slowly shaking his head as y/n answers, “no- uh, no.”

before Timo can ask any more questions, Luke reappears by her side, filling the gap of space between she and Jack.

“are you coming to get a drink or what?” a knowing smile rests upon his lips, y/n’s eyes narrowing at his chipper attitude.

but the need to take the edge of anxiety off her shoulders overrides any sense of self preservation that she previously held.

“lead the way.”

Luke cocks his head toward the doorway that she knows leads to the kitchen. as she follows behind him, Jack hot on her trail, she’s reminded of all the times she’s been in this apartment before; team parties and hang outs with the guys, accompanying Jack as he dropped things off to his captain, and the very first time he introduced her to his friends.

she nearly runs into Luke’s back as he makes an abrupt stop just inside the kitchen, causing Jack to side step and pause in the entryway beside her in order to avoid bumping into her.

“oh hey, mistletoe!” Luke chimes, a bit too happy as he waves a hand above where the former couple stands.

two heads snap up to look above them, cheeks becoming a ferocious shade of red as they glance between each other and the plant that hangs above their heads.

“ooooh!” a voice sings out in a childishly teasing tone and Jack and y/n look over to see Dougie standing beside Luke, pointing at the dangling mistletoe. his loud tone garners the attention of the many people who hang about the kitchen, several eyes widening as they spot the plant above the exes.

“kiss!” Bree calls out as she sidles up beside her fiancé, “if Dougie and i had to, and Nicole and Jesper had to, and hell, even Timo and Nico had to, then so do you! kiss!”

her words start a chant amongst the crowded area, a dozen or so people loudly chorusing the word “kiss!” over and over, their eyes glued to Jack and y/n, who stand in the doorway with blushing cheeks and sad eyes.

“you don’t have to,” y/n starts, her voice a mere whisper as she tries not to choke on her words.

“it’s okay. let’s just give the people what they want,” Jack cuts her off.

allowing muscle memory to take control, his hand rests upon the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair as he guides her lips to his. as his lips make a featherlight brush against hers, y/n allows her eyes to flutter shut, her cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and want.

Jack slots his lips against hers, his breath stilling as he reminisces on the time when he could do this freely. the time he wants back so damn badly.

the time before he started that petty argument over her always steaming up the bathroom and leaving a puddle of water outside the shower. before she accused him of starting things just to argue. before he said those six little words. those six stupid words that he’s come to regret more than anything else he’s ever said or done. those six foolish words that have caused him more misery and pain than any injury ever could.

“maybe we should just break up!”

her body melts into his, her hand resting on his chest, settling over his rapidly beating heart. the kiss is just as good as she remembers, still soft and sweet and dripping with feelings of love and comfort. his hands on her skin still fill her with excitement and a sense of security that she’s only ever felt with him.

as he pulls away, she only just stops herself from chasing his lips once more; from stealing his breath one more time and capturing his lips with hers once again.

but she doesn’t do that.

she refrains and allows him to step back, the loss of his touch leaving a chilly breeze in the place his hand had just occupied. and a whole new sense of longing pangs in her chest.

but when they both look back to the crowded kitchen, no one is paying them any attention. the gaggle of people have resumed whatever conversations they had held before the exes arrival.

“a drink,” she whispers, her fingertips tracing over her slightly swollen lips as she walks toward the countertop occupied by several bottles of liquor and soda, “i need a drink.”

but as she reaches for a bottle of berry flavored vodka, she risks one glance over her shoulder, her eyes locking on Jack’s downturned head as he stares at his shoes. his body is still rooted in the entryway, his own hands rubbing over his face as he seems to angrily mutter to himself.

and as she turns back to mixing herself a drink, Jack’s own eyes rise to look at her stiffened shoulders and rigid posture. watching her mix her signature drink of lemonade and berry vodka, all he can do is scold himself and observe as she takes a sip and then turns to greet his captain as he steps up beside her.

and all Jack can think is how badly he wants to taste the sweet and alcoholic taste on her lips as he kisses her again.

without the help of a stupid plant this time.

***

y/n has spent the last hour of her time engaged in conversations with anyone she can talk to; actively avoiding her ex and hoping he can’t see just how flustered that kiss made her feel. and just how badly she wants to do it again.

y/n watches as Luke bounces around the room, taking note that he’s only speaking to the fellow singles of the team.

what is he up to?

“so you and Jack,” her attention is pulled back to the conversation at hand, her face turning towards Nicole once again, “you guys are finally back together?”

y/n opens her mouth to deny, but Nicole just keeps talking, “i mean, it’s about time. everyone knew it would happen, we were just biting our tongues and waiting for Jack to stop being so mopey and get his head out of his ass long enough to apologize for whatever he did.”

Nicole laughs at her own words as y/n blinks in surprise.

mopey? jack was moping?

wasn’t this exactly what he wanted?

what he asked for?

“we’re not together again,” y/n sighs, shaking her head as she allows her eyes to search out her ex for the hundredth time that night, “Luke and Nico said i still had to come, so here i am.”

“oh,” Nicole’s eyes widen, a true deer-in-headlights look if y/n had ever seen one, “i’m sorry, forget i said anything.”

“it’s okay, you’re not the first to ask tonight,” y/n chuckles, a twinge of sarcasm laced within the sound, “and you probably won’t be the last. it’s odd that i’m here, right? i tried to back out and Nico and Luke wouldn’t let me, but i shouldn’t be here, right? this is his territory.”

Nicole shakes her head, her hand coming up to gently rub against y/n’s arm in a comforting motion as she cuts off her rambles, “you have every right to be here. you became friends with everyone here just as much as he did, y/n.”

“i don’t know,” y/n shrugs in a self-pity filled moment, “it feels like maybe i should just go home, you know? i don’t wanna make him any more uncomfortable than i already have.”

Nicole laughs, her head tipping back as a shrill giggle escapes her lips. as she composes herself from her outburst, she gazes at y/n’s furrowed brows and confused expression before pushing her face to look over at Jack, who stands across the room laughing at something Curtis said.

“does that look like he’s uncomfortable to you?” Nicole huffs out another laugh as she shakes her head, “that boy has been looking at you like a lovesick puppy all night. he’s seemed happier tonight than he has after any winning game in this past month.”

“i-”

“gingerbread house time!” Nico’s booming accent sweeps across the apartment, attracting the attention of the entire crowd of people, “get in pairs and go to one of the stations of gingerbread because the best gingerbread house at the end of the hour gets a mystery prize!”

when y/n looks back to Nicole, Jesper has already glued himself to his fiancée’s side, ushering her towards the dining room table.

turning towards where she last saw Luke, y/n is more than a little affronted to see him stood beside Timo at one of the gingerbread house stations; and the more she looks around the room, the more she’s realizing that everyone already seems to be paired up.

everyone except the very person she had hoped would be paired up. the very person who is walking right towards her with an awkwardly bashful smile.

“guess it’s you and me,” Jack shrugs, pushing his hands deep within his front pockets as y/n nods, a pink hue lighting up her cheeks as her shoulder bumps his when they take their place in front of the last available station.

y/n easily takes the lead, the more creative of the two, and Jack is all too happy to just follow her instructions. he watches in silent admiration as she decorates each wall of the house with a white icing bag and attempts to copy her designs on the symmetrical pieces in order for to help finish their house faster.

Jack takes pleasure in the light grazes of their fingers as they stick the walls of the gingerbread house together. noting the blush that creeps upon her cheeks and neck as she giggles when he mocks a salute after each order she makes of him.

they work in tandem, a well-oiled machine as they construct the house, sneaking peeks at other houses as they work; studying their competition.

“i think we’ve got this in the bag,” Jack tells her, his head bowing down to whisper in her ear. her entire body heats as his lips ghost the shell of her ear; a shiver tracing down her spine when the oddly intoxicating scent of mint and beer hits her nostrils, along with the overwhelmingly familiar warmth of his cologne, “poor bastards, i’ve got a secret weapon that they don’t even realize.”

“oh yeah?” a smirk curls at the side of her lips. she pulls away to look in his eyes, a familiar feeling buried deep within them that makes her heart speed up in her chest, “and what’s that?”

Jack grins, electricity buzzing between them as he dips his head lower, their faces inches apart, “you.”

heat pools deep within her stomach, that same fuzzy feeling she used to get when he would flop on top of her in bed after a long day. when he would tease her that it was his ‘recharging’ time and that he needed to hear her heartbeat to remind him that she’s alive and that he was lucky enough for her to choose him out of all the guys in Newark.

y/n loses herself in the memory, zoning out as her eyes focus on watching Jack apply icing the roof of the gingerbread house, whilst her mind is far off in the past.

“time’s up!” Nico’s exclamation pulls her back to the present, Jack’s hand dropping the icing bag on the table. they stand back to study their creation, shoulders bumping as they both nod in agreement of their job well done.

Nico slowly makes his way around the stations, carefully studying each and every gingerbread house until he finally makes it to the former couple, a clap of his hands startling the two ex-lovers.

“i think we have a winner!” Nico shouts, making a wild wave of his hands towards their gingerbread house, “congratulations, Jack and y/n!”

everyone slowly retreats back to the living room, leaving the three of them behind in the dining area.

“here’s your prize,” Nico smirks knowingly, handing y/n a slip of paper, “i suggest using it during the break.”

Jack peers over her shoulder, his close proximity making y/n a little woozy as she feels his chest press against her back while her reads the paper in her hands. the two don’t even notice Nico retreating, too busy staring at the paper.

“a couples massage?” y/n blinks, “what was he planning to do if Timo and Luke had won? were they gonna have a romantic massage together?”

“i think we both know Luke would never win a gingerbread house competition,” Jack laughs, their eyes drawing up to look over at Luke and Timo’s half built house, which is missing a roof and a wall, “i’m pretty sure he ate half their house… and Nate’s.”

the house beside Luke and Timo’s also lacks a wall, and when y/n glances into the living room, she sees Luke idling beside a few of his teammates. a half eaten wall of gingerbread clutched in his grasp, making her choke out a laugh.

“he’s still eating it,” she knocks her body back against Jack’s, pointing his younger brother out to him.

but Jack is too busy to look. too focused on where her back has leaned to rest lazily against his chest, just like she used to do when she began to tire out while they were hanging with his team. when she used to lean back against him, her head resting against his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her midsection, holding her up as she her blinking got slower and heavier. yet she always refused to go, telling him she didn’t want to cut his time with his friends short.

“well, uh, you can have this,” she stammers, stepping away and putting the dreaded distance back between them as she turns and holds the paper out towards Jack.

“no, you can have it,” he shakes his head, pushing her hand back toward her chest, “i wouldn’t be able to put it to use.”

“you think i would?” she blinks, “i’m sure you can give it to your parents or something, just take it.”

“you hold on to it.” he insists, stepping back when she tries to hold the paper back out to him, “maybe you’ll end up needing it.”

“what if i don’t wanna use it with anyone?” she remarks, “you know i don’t feel comfortable doing that kind of stuff with people.”

“you did it with me,” his response makes her freeze, her body tensing at the first verbal acknowledgment of their relationship.

“that was different.” she mutters, tears now burning at the backs of her eyes, trying to push their way out.

“why?” he questions, eyebrows threading together as though to mock confusion, because she knows that he knows why. he just wants to hear her say it.

and how cruel that is.

how cruel he is for making her remind him of how special he was to her; how comfortable he made her.

“because it was you.” her words are a whisper, her voice breaking on several syllables as she sets the paper down on the table.

Jack is fast with a reply, but y/n’s feet are faster, carrying her out of the room and down the hallway before he can get a word out. she locks herself in the bathroom, tears breaking free and flowing down her cheeks.

she’s no longer capable of holding them back. no longer able to pretend any longer that she doesn’t regret walking away; letting him win that argument instead of fighting for them. for him.

“y/n?” a knock sounds at the bathroom door, Luke’s voice carrying through the wood, “you in there?”

clearing her throat, y/n shakes her head in attempt to pull herself together.

“yeah!” she calls back, plucking a tissue from the box on the counter and dabbing at her tear stained cheeks.

“we’re about to do secret santa.” Luke informs her, and y/n nods, though she knows he can’t see her.

“i’ll be right out!” she amends, wiping her nose and throwing the crumpled tissue into the wastebasket.

she’s runs a hand over her hair, making sure she looks presentable before she opens the door to a worrisome Luke.

“are you okay?”

“never better!” she paints on a grin, bumping her hip against his in a cheerful manner as she makes her way past him, making her way back to the living room.

everyone is standing around when she arrives, watching as Dawson opens a gift bag and pulls out a hat, a hoodie, and an extremely broken candy cane.

“thank you, secret santa.” he chuckles, making Curtis nod.

“you’re welcome.” Curtis looks especially pleased with himself, causing the crowded living room to laugh, “the candy cane was Owen’s contribution.”

“that makes more sense.” Dawson laughs, fist bumping Curtis as he sits down on the armrest of the sofa.

“let’s see who’s next,” Nico trails off, plucking a badly wrapped present from the top of the gift table. he reads the name tag on the gift, smirking as he does so, “y/n.”

“oh, okay,” she gives a soft smile, accepting the gift from Nico’s outstretched hands.

peeling off the paper from the heavy gift, y/n’s eyes widen at the black Coach purse she’s been eyeing for months. her heart stops, only two people in this very room knowing how badly she’s been wanting this exact extra roomy purse. but as she holds it in her hands, she feels something hard and heavy on the inside. peering inside the purse, her hands tremble at the sight that greets her. inside the spacious purse, sits a special edition copy of a book she knows she’s pointed out at Barnes & Noble, remarking about how it’s her favorite book. and underneath the gorgeous foiled covered book with sprayed edges, rests two gift cards; one to that very book store, and another to Amazon.

there’s only one person who would know both how badly she’s wanted this purse, and how badly she wanted this special edition copy.

her eyes rise slowly, blinking back even more tears as she gazes across the room at her ex-boyfriend, a d the way her worries at his bottom lip in anxious anticipation of her reaction, confirms her suspicions of who her secret santa was.

“thank you, Jack.” she whispers softly, unsure if he could even hear her, but when he nods in acknowledgment, she knows he did, “i love them.”

“yeah, of course,” he coughs, nodding his head again, attempting extremely hard to keep his composure, “it was no problem.”

“alright!” Nico grins widely, seeming particularly happy as he locks eyes with Luke who idles beside him, “next is…”

Nico picks another gift from the table and reads the name tag before handing it off to someone else. it goes like that for at least fifteen minutes, practically every gift some variation of the same things; a hoodie, a hat, a wallet, a full upper body heating pad, etc.

but while everyone else is watching as gifts are opened and secret santa’s become less secret, y/n’s eyes keep wandering to the man who stands across the room. the one who finds her looking at him more than once.

but can he blame her?

her heart swells in her chest as she peeks back down at her gifts. he knew her so well. he knew exactly what she wanted and he made it happen. and that thought alone had her planning to pull him to the side later. she needed to talk to him, one on one. a real talk this time, not surrounded by people but just them and their words.

“Jack,” Nico smirks, handing the familiar gift bag over to the man of her attention.

y/n watches with bated breath as Jack pulls out the tissue paper at the top of the bag, his hand reaching in to pull out the first gift; a Carhartt half-zip that she had seen him eyeing a couple months ago. she can’t guarantee that he hasn’t gotten any of the gifts for himself in the time they’ve been apart, but she crosses her fingers in hopes that he hasn’t.

she studies Jack’s crooked smile as he eyes the half-zip, and she knows he’s probably already mentally planning an outfit to go with it. which makes her huff a laugh to herself underneath her breath.

Jack then reaches in and pulls out a box, which y/n knows belongs to the kindle she bought two months ago when he made a comment about needing to get himself one as he cuddled up with his head on her stomach whilst she read on hers. Jack’s eyes dart up to hers after he spots the last thing in the bag, opening the shoe box to reveal a brand new pair of golf shoes, the same pair he had showed her a few months prior and said he wanted to get for the next summer.

a wary smile stretches tightly across her lips, hoping and praying to whatever higher power there may be that he doesn’t already have any of the gifts.

“thank you, y/n.” he smiles a wide toothy grin as he puts the gifts back in the bag.

“you’re welcome.”

the routine starts again, the final few people opening their gifts as Jack and y/n glance at each other with longing deep within their eyes.

once the final person has opened their gift, the party resumes to its regularly scheduled holiday music and chatter, and Luke and Nico watch from a corner of the room as Jack and y/n continue to steal glances at each other.

with hesitant steps, they meet in the middle of the living room, y/n’s hands trembling as she builds up her courage.

“i-” “do you-”

they both give an awkward chuckle as they speak over each other.

“you first,” Jack cocks his head as she takes a deep breath, collecting herself.

“do you wanna go somewhere we can talk?” she asks, before clarifying, “in private.”

Jack nods, “yeah, c’mon.”

he leads her down the hallway of doors, stepping into the open guest room as she follows behind him. he takes a seat on the end of the bed, setting his gift bag on the floor beside him.

“thank you for my gifts.” her voice shakes as she stops in front of him, setting her new purse gingerly on the bed before sitting beside him, “you’re very thoughtful. i didn’t think you’d paid that much attention to my yapping.”

Jack’s eyes darken at her sorrowful chuckle, his brows furrowing, “y/n, i listened to everything you said.”

her own eyebrows raise in surprise as he continues, “listening to you talk is my favorite thing in the world.”

is.

not ‘was’.

is.

“oh,” she blinks, trying to decide what to make of his words, “besides hockey, you mean.”

“i said what i said, y/n.” he shakes his head, “i like hearing you talk about things you love and things you’re passionate about.”

her heart skips what she feels is numerous beats as he waves a hand towards the gifts beside her, “you told me about these things a few months ago and i bought them right after you told me.”

“that purse?” he muses, “i bought that online as you were laying on my chest. literally right after you showed it to me for the first time. i didn’t even need to buy any new gifts for the secret santa because i had them all sitting on the top shelf of my closet.”

his eyebrows furrow and his eyes narrow as he corrects himself, “except the book. i pre-ordered that when you showed it to me online but it got here last week.”

her eyes are soft as she observes the man in front of her, soaking in every word he said. blood collects in her cheeks as she regards him, as she comes to realize just how much he loved her.

“i bought your presents a few months ago too,” she quirks, “i was slowly collecting them to give you at christmas but…”

she trails off, refusing to say the words that hang in the air.

they broke up.

they’re not together anymore.

he wanted them to be over.

“y/n,” he starts with a heavy sigh, her eyes trailing back up from the floor to look at his face, “i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.”

“if i could take back everything i said, i would. i was stressed and i took it out on you and it wasn’t right. i know it wasn’t right. i said things that i regret now. god, i wish you could understand how badly i regret them. as soon as you left, i knew i had fucked up. i wanted to take it all back so bad, but i couldn’t because i said them and you were gone. i didn’t think you would want anything to do with me after that, so i gave you your space and i thought i was doing what was right by leaving you alone, but if i could go back? i never would’ve said we should break up.”

her eyes sting as a single tear trails down her cheek. listening to him express his regret and anger with himself has her desperate to touch him; to comfort him in any way she can.

“i love you, y/n. and i know it’s probably too late, but i just need you to know how sorry i am for what happened, and i need you to know that i do still love you.”

Jack takes a deep breath, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears as he attempts to blink them back, because he doesn’t want her to think he turned on the waterworks to try and make her feel sorry for him. he doesn’t want her to take him back out of pity. he doesn’t expect her to take him back at all.

because he wouldn’t, if he were her.

he couldn’t blame her. he was a jerk, and he hurt her when she didn’t deserve it.

“i’m sorry i left.” her words are raspy and choked, so quiet that Jack can barely make them out. but his head snaps up in surprise as he registers her statement.

“y/n, no-” but before he can tell her she nothing to apologize for, she cuts him off.

“i’m sorry i didn’t fight you harder. i should’ve yelled and screamed if i needed to. i should’ve fought to keep us, and instead i just walked away. and i’m so sorry that i did, Jack.” her voice trembles, cracking on a few syllables as she turns to face him better.

“i love you so much, and i should’ve fought harder to keep you. i knew you were stressed and i knew that you probably weren’t in the right mindset, but i still left. because, i thought once you were feeling better, you would’ve called or texted or shown up or something. but then you didn’t and i realized that maybe i made a mistake by leaving your apartment that night. i realized that maybe i should’ve stayed and fought with you. i should’ve told you ‘no’ when you said we should break up. i should’ve refused. but then i thought, maybe you really did just mean it. maybe i was the reason you were stressed. maybe you truly just didn’t want to be with me anymore. and i had to accept that. but i still haven’t accepted it, because i still want you.”

before she can even think to say more, her mouth is covered by his, a breathless and heated kiss pressed to her lips.

tangling his hands in her hair, Jack pulls her even closer to him, his tongue swiping across her bottom lip. her lips part beneath his, and his tongue slips between them, leaving soft caresses against her own as she lets out a low whimper.

pulling back, they both pant for air, their bodies alight with the soft hum of electricity that sparks when they’re close.

“if you’ll still have me, i still really really want you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing lightly against hers with every move.

with her forehead pressed against his, she nods eagerly, pressing a chaste kiss against his lips, “please.”

“you gonna be my girlfriend again?” he nearly begs, a smile lighting up his face as she nods again, humming an ‘mhm’ in agreement, “i love you, pretty girl.”

“i love you too,” she whispers, coaxing his lips back to hers in another heavy, breathless kiss.

one of his hands travels down her body, bunching under her sweater as her hands grip his in fistfuls at his hips.

“you’re welcome!”

the two newly reunited lovers jolt apart, heads snapping to look at the doorway, Luke idles with his arms crossed against his chest.

“what?” Jack scoffs, scowling at his younger brother.

“you didn’t seriously think tonight happened by fate, did you?” it’s Luke’s turn to scoff, “i asked Nico to make sure you got each other for secret santa, i made sure everyone else was partnered up for the gingerbread houses, i made sure you got matching sweaters, and i made you stop under the mistletoe.”

Luke shakes his head as he continues, “do you know how fucking exhausting it was watching you two mope around for the past month and ask me for updates on each other? you’re welcome! this is the only christmas gift you’re getting from me, so don’t expect anything else.”

Jack and y/n stare at Luke in a daze, astonished by his outburst.

“um, thank you?” she lilts, tilting her head as she watches Luke push off the doorframe and spin around.

“mhm! i’m staying here at Nico’s tonight. you’re welcome! again!”

[yanderedrabbles]

What would Yandere be like! Boyfriend with a girlfriend who is distant from him, but he finds out it's because she's planning a surprise party for him?

Oh this is such a great prompt!!

Yandere Boyfriend - Surprise Party

Yandere! Boyfriend immediately notices something is off. You tilt your phone screen away from him whenever you get a message. You go out shopping when he's away at the gym and when he gets back you've already hidden your parcels away. You whisper with your friends and grow quiet or change the subject when he gets close.

Yandere! Boyfriend hates it. But he tries very hard to be rational about it.

Yandere! Boyfriend who tries to get you to spill your secret. He'll pin you under him and pepper your neck with ticklish kisses, keeping you in place even as you squirm. His words are muffled by your skin but you can still hear the whine in his voice when he says, "Come on baby, you can tell me."

Yandere! Boyfriend who gets more and more pushy when you won't give in. His kisses turn to sharp little nips, his hands roam under your skirt and drag up your thighs. His voice drops dangerously low when he asks, "Why are you keeping secrets from me?"

Yandere! Boyfriend who has to fight himself to even let you up when you tell him to stop, that you're not hiding anything.

Yandere! Boyfriend who goes through your phone the second you're asleep. But you know what your boyfriend is like and you've covered your tracks well. He stares at the screen, his hand clenched so tightly around the device the frame almost bends. He has take several deep, slow breaths before he can make his fingers unclench.

Yandere! Boyfriend who starts following you. The errands you're on seem harmless on the surface. Buying a cake, ribbon, balloons... But his mind is an awfully paranoid place and all he can think about is some guy spreading chocolate frosting on your thighs and licking it off. Tying your legs together with ribbons and pulling them apart with his teeth. All he can think about is some bastard enjoying a gift that isn't his.

He goes to the gym after that and pounds at the punching bag until his knuckles are raw and bleeding inside his gloves.

Yandere! Boyfriend who tracks down every single one of your friends. Sometimes banging at their doors long after sundown. There's only one thing he wants to know from them.

Why is she keeping secrets from me?

Yandere! Boyfriend who hates the vague answers they give him - just wait and see, I can't tell you, it's a surprise. He has to bite his tongue to keep himself grounded or else he might start shaking them until the truth rattles out of their scrambled skulls.

Yandere! Boyfriend who honestly terrifies your friends with his intensity. They desperately want to tell you about it, the way his eyes go dull and dangerous, the way his massive fists stay clenched at his side like he's always on the verge of swinging, the blood that coats his teeth like he's been biting himself to ribbons. But they see the way you look at him, so hopelessly in love, and can't find the words to tell you.

Yandere! Boyfriend who won't let you out of your apartment. He'll cuddle you and pretend to be asleep so you can't even untangle yourself from his massive bulk. He'll "lose" the keys and help you turn the whole place upside down looking for it, teasing you for being so absent minded. He'll turn back all the clocks and hide your phone, just so he can steal a few more hours. Who only relents when you start considering the dangerously rusty fire escape.

Yandere! Boyfriend who is on the verge of tying you up in his basement. Who unlocks his door with the intention of taking a look down there and maybe making it comfortable.

"Surprise!"

Yandere! Boyfriend who stands frozen, taking in the ribbons, the balloons, the cake, the crowd of people. And at the forefront, you. In a pretty, new dress wearing those heels that make your legs look a mile long.

Yandere! Boyfriend who scoops you up in a hug and won't let you go. Who keeps a hand on you all night - around your waist, on your thigh, intertwined with yours.

Yandere! Boyfriend who practically kicks the stragglers out the door at the end of the night. He turn around to an empty house with you out of sight and his mind starts to doubt itself again.

Yandere! Boyfriend who finally finds you in the bedroom, ribbons tied all around you and a pretty red bow holding your legs together.

"Surprise."

Yandere! Boyfriend who thinks that might be his new favourite word. Who feels his throat go dry and for a second all he can do is drink you in. His pretty little girlfriend who played with fire planning this.

Yandere! Boyfriend who carefully unties each and every ribbon, planting soft kisses on your skin all the while. For now, the doubts have dissappeared and all that matters is you and him. Skin to skin and the only thought in his head is how he adores you.

[vktrjyce]

tell me that i'm what you need

a jayvik college au

length: 6.8k

author's note: them in a college au has been rotting in my brain since I finished act 3, and i had to write it. it's completely self-indulgent and i understand that and i do not apologize. i have TONS more ideas for this so if it gets enough traction maybe i'll write more LMAOOO. jayvik has their hooks in me good you guys. anyways, thanks so much for reading!! i hope you enjoyed it, and feel free to leave likes and comments! i'd love to hear any feedback or thoughts :) have a great day!!

there is also a playlist that goes along with this fic!

tags: college party ; weed smoking ; trans viktor ; sub jayce talis ; dom viktor ; college au ; shotgunning ; making out ; sexuality crisis ; first meeting ; viktor is hot and confident and jayce loves it ; they're both idiots

warnings: sexual content, weed smoking

summary: Jayce goes to a party with Caitlyn and gets more than he bargained for when he meets a handsome stranger in the basement.

originally posted by vktrjyce

Jayce followed Caitlyn into the overflowing house, wincing at the music pounding against his skull. Three different people bumped into him in the foyer alone, the third spilling an obscene amount of beer on his shoes. He grimaced, waved away the guy’s half-assed apology, and attempted to adjust to the stickiness. It felt a little like he’d surpassed his age of enjoying parties like this. Or maybe he simply needed to be with the right crowd. 

This did not feel like his crowd. 

“Cait!” He shouted over the music, grabbing his companion’s arm. She turned to him with a raised eyebrow, “This is really how you want to spend your Friday night?” 

She pressed her lips into a thin line and leaned towards him, “Vi invited me! I couldn’t exactly say no.” 

He overdramatically rolled his eyes, a knowing smile on his face, “So your girlfriend’s the partying type?” 

Caitlyn’s own eyes widened, her cheeks going slightly pink, “She’s not my girlfriend! Yet…” She shook her head, dark blue strands swaying back and forth, “And her sister threw this party. She’s just along for the ride.” 

“Mmhmm.” Jayce scanned the crowd, looking for a head of hot-pink hair he’d only heard about in stories, “So, where is she?” 

“I don’t know. I can’t see her from he-” 

“Cupcake!” A muscled arm landed on Caitlyn’s shoulders, simultaneously knocking her into Jayce’s side. The owner of said arm had the exact hair he’d been on the lookout for. Also, the ‘Vi’ tattooed on her face was sort of a dead giveaway, “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” 

Caitlyn looked over at Vi, a pleasant smile sliding across her face. She leaned into the woman, “What, and leave you to your own devices? I can only imagine the chaos that would ensue.” 

“You think so low of me. I’m hurt.” Vi teased, before her eyes landed on Jayce, “Who’s this?” 

Caitlyn answered before he had a chance to, “This is Jayce Talis. I’ve told you about him.” 

Jayce, in turn, offered a polite smile and a small wave. 

“So, this is the brainiac?” Vi gave him a once-over, pursing her lips, “Quite the pretty boy, isn’t he?” 

He choked out a slightly embarrassed chuckle, resisting the urge to rub at the back of his neck. His Mother always scolded him for having such an obvious nervous tick. 

“Don’t say that, it’ll go right to his head.” Cait retorted, giving her friend a knowing look, “And it’s big enough already.” 

The man barked out a laugh, “There’s better ways to show off than making fun of me, you know.” 

Once again, her eyes widened, “I wasn’t-” 

“Aww, are you trying to seduce me with your stuck-upness?” Vi cooed, pinching Caitlyn’s cheek. Though she scrunched up her nose, she didn’t pull away from the touch, “If you are, it’s working.” 

“You’re an idiot.” She deadpanned, and then looked back at Jayce, “You both are.” 

“I guess you attract them.” He winked at her. 

“I like this guy. He’s not all prude and stiff like most of the people you introduce me to.” Vi commented, grinning, “We could have some fun together, pretty boy.” 

“The feeling’s mutual, Vi.” 

“I don’t know, the thought of you two together doesn’t sit well with me.” Caitlyn piped up, “And I absolutely do not want to be demoted to third-wheel.” 

“I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that.” Jayce gave her a knowing look, sending her gaze to the floor. So he turned it on Vi. She smirked in response. 

“You guys want a drink? The kitchen’s stocked with all kinds of stuff.” She offered, pulling Caitlyn closer to her.

“I wouldn’t mind a drink.” His friend responded. She looked at Jayce with a warning on her face. He was no longer welcome in the group. 

He heard her loud and clear. 

“You guys go ahead, I’m gonna go mingle for a bit.” He told them, taking a step back, “We’ll meet back up later.” 

Caitlyn’s look turned grateful, eyes sparkling in the strobe lights. Vi nodded at his declaration. 

“Alright, see you later, then.” She bid him adieu, turning Caitlyn (presumably) towards the kitchen. 

As they walked away, he heard his friend ask, “Where’s Jinx?” 

“Somewhere causing problems, probably. I think she was trying to make fireworks or something.” Vi’s response came, and then they were out of earshot. And Jayce was all alone. 

He shifted his weight, patted his hands against his pants, and then decided he should do something. Something other than standing in the middle of this room. Watching the party go on without him. Like a loser. 

He sucked in a deep breath and moved further into the house. 

People were dancing, mingling, playing games, and making out on practically every available surface. He could only imagine what others were getting up to in the non-public spaces. He’d had his own fair share of trysts in his younger days. Now, though, he much preferred a quiet night in or hyperfocusing on a new project. Cait always teased him for ‘turning into an old man.’ 

Maybe she had a point. Just a little bit. 

It took Jayce a 10-minute conversation with Salo and another 15 minutes of standing against a wall before the noise and the lights became too much. He was uncomfortable, on his way to overstimulated, and in desperate need of a small respite. So he went looking for one. 

All the bedrooms were… occupied. The bathroom, when not occupied, was more of a cesspool of untoward activity than a sanctuary. The backyard was just as loud as anywhere else. All that left him with was the closed basement door. Which had an eccentric, bright pink ‘Stay Out!!!’ spray-painted on it. 

He did feel bad about ignoring the warning, but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

Jayce opened the door, stepped inside, and shut it behind him. The immediate quiet, even with the muffled music through the wall, sent relief through his body. He sighed and walked down the stairs. About halfway down, a familiar skunk-like smell wafted its way up to him. But since he’d already committed, he simply wrinkled his nose and kept going. 

He stepped off the final stair, turned the corner, and took a look around the room. 

It was a typical basement- a couple of couches, a TV, a coffee table, and various movie and show posters on the walls. The lights were off, save for a warm-colored lamp on the table. None of it was out of the ordinary. Nothing particularly caught his eye. 

What did gain his attention, though, was the man on the couch. 

Pale and lanky, long brown hair with strands of blonde pulled into a low bun, clad in a burgundy cardigan and black sweats with a leg brace on the right knee. Only his side profile was visible from here, showing off a long nose and sharp cheekbones. A beauty mark sat above his thin, pink lips, which were currently wrapped around a half-smoked joint. His long lashes fluttered closed as he inhaled, pulled the joint from his mouth, and laid his head back against the couch. One long finger tapped against it. 

Jayce was, for one moment, very taken aback. If this guy was a girl, he’d be stunning.

“Uh-” He grunted out, like an idiot. 

The man’s eye opened, iris sliding in his direction. No other part of him moved. He exhaled the smoke and closed his eye again, “The bathroom is upstairs, on the second level. At the end of the hall.” 

As if this stranger’s looks weren’t enough of a shock, his words came out accented. It sounded Russian, or maybe Czech. It made him sound melodic, like voicing an elegant song instead of speaking. Jayce found himself wanting to hear more. 

“Oh, no, I, uh-” Jayce cleared his throat, then tried again, “Sorry, I was actually just trying to find a quiet place for a minute. All the noise was… it was a little much.” 

The man’s eyes opened again, and this time he turned his head towards Jayce. The latter discovered two distinct things at that moment. 

One, he had another beauty mark. Under his right eye, lighter than the one above his mouth. 

Two, the attractiveness increased tenfold when he saw his whole face. A few strands of his hair had fallen out of the bun and framed his face. Seriously, he could be a model or something.

The stranger raised a thick, dark eyebrow, “Why come to a party if the party is going to be ‘a little much’?” 

“Well, that’s not-” He scoffed, rubbing a hand over his jaw, “I didn’t- I came with a friend, so.” 

Piercing golden eyes watched him with mild curiosity, “And where is your friend now?” 

“She’s with her- you know what? It doesn’t matter.” Jayce shook his head, feeling a little disgruntled, “You’re the one hiding down here all by yourself.” 

“Well, I live here. I can’t exactly escape the party.” He explained, tilting his head from side to side, “This was supposed to be my safe haven.” 

Jayce ignored the last part, partly out of stubbornness, and responded with a question, “You live here? I thought Vi’s sister was the host.” 

“Jinx.” The man explained, looking away. It gave Jayce a chance to take a deep breath. He felt like a bug under a magnifying glass with those eyes on him, “And she is. She’s my roommate. One of them.” 

“Jinx? What kind of a name is that?” He chuckled. 

There was no response. Only a noncommittal shrug as he lifted the joint to his lips once again. A motion by which Jayce found himself hypnotized. The slender fingers holding it, the way his lips pursed as he inhaled, the twitching of his eyelids. It looked so natural- as simple as breathing. He was so caught up in it that he didn’t realize the man’s gaze was on him again. 

“Do you want some?” He asked, jolting Jayce out of his trance and offering the weed up. 

He could feel his face heating up, both from being caught staring and from the offer. He’d had weed a couple of times in the past, but it never ended well. Whether it be not knowing his own limits or peer pressure, he always went too far and got too anxious to enjoy it. He was open to it, but that didn’t stop him from feeling nervous. A familiar emotion right now. 

“Oh, I uh- I wouldn’t want to intrude.” 

The man smiled, just a small thing, but it made a certain softness take over his face, “A little late for that, no?” 

His cheeks were sure to be bright red now. He laughed nervously. 

The good-looking stranger shook his head, gesturing for Jayce to come closer, “I’m joking. Come. The company might be nice.” 

“Are you sure?” The question came out hesitant, but he was already moving over to the couch. Something about the way this guy spoke made him feel compelled to listen.

However, that could be the sleep deprivation talking. Or he’d finally lost it. Both were possibilities. 

“I find you… intriguing.” His new acquaintance told him, watching as he sat on the opposite side of the couch, “Besides, you said you needed a moment of quiet.” 

“I guess that’s true.” He shrugged, “Thanks. I appreciate it.” 

“Mm.” Humming, he offered the joint to Jayce once again. This time, he took it. 

It was only then that he realized there was a cane resting next to the man. Silver with a red and gold handle, decorated with graffiti that matched the ‘keep out’ sign on the door. He wondered if it was the stranger’s doing, but that felt unlikely. It didn’t seem like his style. 

Jayce took a drag, forcing himself not to cough as the marijuana burned all the way down. He really was not used to this sensation. The only thing worse than the burn, though, would be looking like a fool in front of this interesting guy he’d just met. He had to play it cool. 

God, he was such a loser. 

“You’re supposed to exhale it, you know.” The man spoke up, amusement lacing that magnetizing accent. It was just shy of patronizing, which strangely made his stomach coil.

This entire interaction was making Jayce’s head spin a little bit. 

He let the smoke out in one quick breath, which immediately sent him into a coughing fit. He hunched over himself, hitting a fist against his chest in an attempt to clear the pipe. He didn’t think this could get any worse. Either the humiliation or the coughing would kill him. A death that he’d happily embrace. 

“There, there. Easy.” A hand rested on his back, lithe fingers rubbing into the muscles, “You haven’t smoked much, I see.” 

Jayce barely noticed the hand on him, too preoccupied with trying not to die. He shook his head, letting out a hoarse, “Not really.” 

“Here.” The joint was taken from his hand and replaced with a glass of water, “Drink.” 

He didn’t hesitate to chug half of it. Then he slumped back against the couch, eyes closed as he took a few deep breaths. The burn had subsided, leaving only a bit of irritation in his throat. At the very least, he’d stopped coughing. Small victories. 

“Are you alright?” 

Jayce looked over at the stranger- his savior, in a way- and froze. Those amber eyes were locked on him, rimmed with red, and hungry. That feeling in his chest tightened, making him feel on edge. 

He swallowed, “Yeah. Yeah, uh, sorry. I don’t- I’m sorta new to this.” 

The man tucked some hair behind his ear and laid his arm over the back of the couch. His hand was only a few inches away from Jayce’s face. 

“Was this your first time?” 

“No.” He shook his head, “I’ve done it a couple times before. Just… not in a while.” 

“I see.” He picked at a loose thread sticking out of the cushion, “Did you enjoy it? In the past?” 

Jayce’s mind was starting to feel foggy. He pursed his lips, “It wasn’t bad. I think I just… I did too much too fast. Got in over my head.” 

“Mm, you seem like the type.” The man’s fingernails were painted black, the polish chipped, “To get in over your head, that is.” 

“Yeah?” He smiled lazily at his new friend, “What about you?” 

The man shook his head immediately, “Definitely not. I am always calm and collected. Just don’t ask anyone close to me for a second opinion on that.” 

That made him laugh. He laid a hand over his stomach, head tilted back. When he looked back at the stranger, still chuckling, there was something close to admiration on the guy’s face. Again, his stomach did a flip. What a strange way this night was going. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, voice deeper and accent more prominent. 

“Jayce.” He responded, “Jayce Talis. You?” 

“Viktor.” The man told him, and it was perfect. He couldn’t think of a better-fitting name. 

“It’s nice to meet you. Even if I made a complete fool of myself with the weed.” 

Viktor snorted out a laugh, taking another hit from the joint. He made it look effortless, “Not at all. You’re new to it. I’ve been doing it for a long time.” 

“You never get sick of it?” 

“Never. It helps too much. With the, eh, pain. And, you know, it quiets the mind.” 

“Right.” He gestured to the leg brace, “I don’t wanna pry, but I assume that’s what you’re talking about.” 

“Well, there are worse ways to be nosy.” He responded, screwing up his lips, “You’d be right, though. It’s my bad leg. I was born with it.” 

“I’m sorry.” Jayce blurted, because he felt like an idiot. The weed definitely wasn’t helping with his stupidness, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” 

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t.” 

He held his hands up in surrender, “Alright, that’s fair. I just don’t want you to feel pressured.” 

“My hero.” Viktor deadpanned, rolling his pretty eyes, “Can you feel it yet?” 

Jayce furrowed his brows, “Feel- oh, the weed?” 

The other man nodded in confirmation. 

“A little. I don’t think I had much, honestly.” 

“Do you want more?” 

“And have another coughing fit? I can’t take more embarrassment, Viktor.” 

He chuckled, “You’ll survive. And we can try another way to get it down for you.” 

“Another way? Like what?” 

Something mischievous had crossed over his face, which was slightly scary, “I believe most people call it, uh… shotgunning. Have you heard of it?” 

Jayce most definitely had. And the prospect was simultaneously intriguing and panic-inducing to him. 

Viktor was nice and funny, and he was good-looking. But shotgunning was sort of… an intimate thing? In a way? The kind of thing you did when you wanted to get up close and personal with someone? 

Was that what Viktor wanted? Was he coming onto Jayce? 

If he was, well, that was flattering. But Jayce wasn’t really… he’d done stuff with men before. The typical college, experimenting stuff. And it was fine- wasn’t terrible. But he didn’t think that was really… him. 

But he was also a little high. And spiraling. And he was having a good time with Viktor and he didn’t want it to end. 

So what the hell? Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?

“Yeah, I- I think I have.” He spoke, finally giving in and rubbing at the back of his neck, “We could give it a shot. If you want.” 

“Excellent.” Viktor patted the empty spot next to him, “Come.” 

Jayce followed the order with no hesitation. Like a dog obeying the commands of his master. Something about it made the other man’s eyes light up, much to his confusion. 

“So, how are we-” 

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. The words were cut off as Viktor slid onto his legs, seating himself right on Jayce’s lap. It sent his brain, his heart, his whole body into overdrive. It didn’t even occur to him to move him, though. He was too busy trying to remember how to breathe. Not necessarily in a bad way, but definitely slightly unnerving.

Friends could do stuff like this, right? 

Did Jayce even want to just be friends? Was there something more here? 

Viktor smelled like weed, cinnamon, and old paper. It drew him in with every breath.

Jayce, even with his sluggish mind, was coming to a semi-realization. While he couldn’t be sure how true it would feel in the light of day, it felt true now. Which could mean tons of things, honestly. 

Jayce was realizing that he liked this feeling. He liked the buzzing under his skin, the fogginess behind his eyes. He liked the weight of Viktor on him, liked the smell of Viktor, liked Viktor. Something about him was just so magnetizing. It made him nervous. This whole thing did. But he found that he didn’t really mind it. 

This was surely a crisis in the making. Something to be dealt with and reflected on in the sober light of day. He could analyze every move, second-guess every word and every reaction. He could take the time to nitpick his feelings until everything was clear. But right now, that didn’t matter. 

Right now, he felt good. And he wanted to keep doing what felt good. That should be simple enough. 

He nodded to himself. Literally. He probably looked like a freak to his companion. If he did, he garnered no reaction. 

“Open your mouth,” Viktor told him, raising the joint to his lips. 

Fuck. A cacophony of not-appropriate things flitted through his mind in reaction to the words. Not on purpose.

“Wait-” He heard himself saying, which was the opposite of what his heart (and his dick) wanted him to do. Apparently, his head still had the wheel. 

Jayce rested his hands on Viktor’s hips to stop him. Even through the thick cardigan, the latter’s hip bones were prominent. It made something twist unhappily in Jayce’s chest. 

Viktor did wait, pausing with a raised eyebrow and the weed an inch or two from his mouth. 

“A-are you okay like this?” Jayce stuttered out, looking up at the star of his current dilemma, “Your leg-” 

The questioning look on Viktor’s face turned to amusement, and he tilted his head, “That’s what you’re worried about? You idiot.” 

The word didn’t even sting like it would’ve from anyone else. It sounded like an endearment more than anything. 

“My leg is fine.” He hummed, resting a hand on Jayce’s shoulder. The weight was nice, soothing, “I’ve lived with it all my life. I know what I can handle.” 

Did weed have some sort of magical attraction properties? The sensation in his chest certainly felt like something out of a fairytale. 

“Okay.” Jayce exhaled shakily- again, not on purpose, “Okay. I just wanted to check.” 

“How kind of you.” That hand left his arm, coming back a moment later as Viktor grabbed his chin. He squeezed lightly, causing Jayce’s lips to pucker, “Are you ready?” 

Jayce nodded eagerly, giggling. Any harder and his head probably would’ve snapped off. 

Viktor gave him a look of approval that made his lungs ache, “Inhale when I exhale. Yes?” 

He swallowed, “Yes.” 

The man half-smiled, gave him a little nod, and took a long drag. It looked so easy, so beautiful, when he did it. Which was a strange thing to think. A strange action to find beautiful. But it was, nevertheless. 

Jayce parted his lips when Viktor lowered his hand, watching with expectant eyes as the man leaned toward him. Their noses brushed, sending a tingle through his skin. His breath hitched, and then the smoke was blown into his mouth. He closed his eyes and inhaled. 

It burned again, but he loved it this time. It filled his chest, his brain, left him feeling a little weightless. 

There was no coughing when he exhaled. Only the relief of subsided stinging, the warmth of Viktor against him. His nerves began to hum from his head to his toes. 

He was pretty sure he understood what all the hype was about now. Why the drug was so popular. 

But then again, that could all be because of Viktor. 

Viktor, Viktor, Viktor.

“So beautiful.” He heard his companion say, and there was a thumb brushing over his bottom lip. 

Jayce blinked his eyes open. It was harder than usual. Everything felt a little sluggish. 

Viktor was watching him. The whites of his starlight eyes were red, his gaze half-lidded, and that hunger was back. He looked like a cat on the prowl. Stalking its prey. 

Jayce had never been so pleased to feel like a cornered mouse. 

“Do you like men, Jayce?” 

“Do I-?” The question echoed his own thoughts bouncing around his mind. It sent a strike of panic through him, slightly dampened by the drug in his veins. He didn’t really have an answer for him. This night had brought up a lot of feelings on that exact topic, and most of them were muddy. It was terrifying, “I don’t… I’m not really sure, Viktor.” 

“Allow me to rephrase my question, then.” He hummed, and he was back to brushing his fingers over Jayce’s face. His lips, cheeks, nose, the space between his eyebrows, “Do you want to kiss me?” 

This question was much simpler. But it wasn’t much easier to answer.

He really liked Viktor. He was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Viktor was funny and he had a nice accent and his face was- honestly, the only word that came to mind was beautiful. He’d never found a man beautiful before. 

Jayce wanted the answer to be easy. He wanted it to come to him like a reflex. But he was scared. The fear was holding him back. 

He tried to remind himself of the vow he’d made only a bit ago. Analyze emotions later, do what feels good now. 

If Viktor was a woman, Jayce knew what his answer would be. And that should be enough for now. He met Viktor’s gaze once more.

“Yes.” He whispered. It felt a little like signing his death sentence. 

“Go on, then.” Their noses were touching again. Viktor’s skin was cold on his. Or maybe Jayce’s was just unusually hot. 

“You want me to?” Jayce was over-thinking. As he, clearly, had a tendency to do. But some part of him felt like this was all a prank, or a dream. Surely, the moment he leaned forward it would all go up in a cloud of smoke. 

“Take what you want, Jayce.” His voice was lower, deeper. The words curled with his accent, like music notes drifting through the air, “Hesitate, and the opportunity will slip through your fingers.”

That was all the push he needed. 

He kissed Viktor. Slowly at first, awkwardly. He was giggling again, mostly out of nervousness. Jayce had experience in kissing- 95% of it was with women. And this was different. 

He’d lean forward and end up squishing their noses together. Let out a chuckle, re-adjust, try again. Their teeth clacked together on the next kiss, a jarring sensation that made them both flinch. Still, they were smiling and touching and going for more. Jayce tried to kiss him and missed, planting a smooch right on his chin. 

“Shit-” He snickered, pulling away. His cheeks were red-hot, “Sorry, sorry.” 

“Don’t be. And don’t be nervous.” Viktor’s eyes crinkled a little as he smiled, “We’re in no rush.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Okay.” He took a stabilizing breath, half-grinning, “Can I try again?” 

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.” 

Jayce laughed and kissed him again. A little more sure this time, but just as sloppy. He leaned up off the couch, pressing his hand into the small of Viktor’s lower back. Needing him closer, closer, closer. His lips tasted like raspberries. 

Viktor’s fingers tangled into Jayce’s hair, keeping his head right where he wanted. He kissed him like he was a master at it, like it was something he’d done a million times. It made Jayce feel very, very inadequate. 

He nipped at Jayce’s bottom lip, pulled back enough that Jayce had to chase him for more, then plunged right back in. A gentle tug on the locks in Viktor’s hands had Jayce’s mouth falling open. Viktor’s tongue slipped inside a moment later. One of his hands came to rest on Viktor’s face, thumb brushing over that sharp cheekbone. He allowed himself to be manhandled- let Viktor use his mouth as he pleased. He couldn’t stop fucking smiling. 

“There we go, you’re getting the hang of it,” Viktor murmured against his lips. His kisses moved to Jayce’s chin, mouthing along his jawline, “So eager, too. Like a puppy. Will you wag your tail if I call you a good boy?” 

He wanted to be embarrassed about the comparison. Wanted to not like the insinuation as much as he did. Mostly, though, he just wanted more Viktor. 

“Fuck.” He breathed, tilting his head back to give the other man more access. His pants were starting to strain a little bit. 

“I think that’s a yes.” He whispered, his breath sending goosebumps across Jayce’s skin. 

Viktor’s kisses moved up, up, up, until he was nibbling on Jayce’s earlobe. He gave it one sharp tug. 

And Jayce fucking whimpered. 

He’d never made that noise before. He didn’t even know he could make that noise. It definitely didn’t sound like something that would’ve come out of him. But it had. His face was on fire. 

“Oh, you like that?” Viktor practically purred. He pulled away to look at Jayce, and his hazy eyes widened a bit, “You didn’t know you liked that.” 

“No, I-” He swallowed, shifting a little in his seat, “I didn’t mean to make that… noise.” 

As if his inexperience wasn’t bad enough, now he was making sounds that could only be labeled as pathetic. Viktor must have thought he was such an idiot. 

The man frowned, pink lips forming an adorable pout, “I put work into getting that noise from you. I’d appreciate if you didn’t try to downplay it.” 

Jayce blinked up at him, “You liked it?” 

Viktor stared at him like he was an idiot. Jayce could only focus on how pretty he was like that. 

“Kiss me again?” He pleaded, because the way his head was already spinning wasn’t enough. He needed more. 

His companion was happy to oblige. 

The kiss was back to passionate and sloppy, all tongue and teeth and wandering hands. Jayce’s shirt got halfway unbuttoned, Viktor’s hair was let down, and the forgotten cup of water was kicked onto the carpet. Neither of them noticed, or maybe they didn’t care. Too caught up in each other to remember there was a whole world around them. 

They’d fallen into a rhythm, moving together like partners in a dance. It was euphoric.

“Shit-” Jayce moaned, eyes rolled back as the other man sucked at his neck. 

Viktor ran his tongue down Jayce’s pulse point, kissed the spot right above his collarbone, and then bit down. Hard. 

Jayce hissed at the sting, then grunted as it immediately turned into pleasure. All of his blood had gone South. His head was blissfully empty. Had he ever felt so needy in his life? If he had, he definitely couldn’t remember it. 

Viktor slid his hands down Jayce’s arms, interlocking them with the ones still on his waist. His fingers were slender against Jayce’s, bony and long while the other’s were thick and strong. They fit together perfectly.

Viktor kissed him again, then again. Little pecks that left him desperate for more. 

“Had enough yet?” He asked through the kisses, his lips swollen and red, “Perhaps you should return to the- mm- party. If you’ve had your moment of quiet.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” Jayce asked, his breathing ragged. The question was asked jokingly, but it made his chest ache. Maybe he was doing terribly- maybe this wasn’t as good for Viktor as it was for him. He squeezed Viktor’s hands, still clasped in his own, “And here I thought we were having such a good time.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” He shot back, attempting to hide the amused smile on his lips. He certainly thought himself funny. It made Jayce’s fear die down, just a little, “Be a good boy and lay me down. I need to rest my leg.”

The nickname went straight to his dick. It also made him sit there for a solid five seconds like an idiot as his mind tried to process the words. Then he did, and it immediately had his heart lunging with worry. 

“Does it hurt?” Jayce asked earnestly, hooking his hands under Viktor’s thighs to lay him down on the couch. He knelt in between the man’s legs, the right one stretched out and relaxed. 

Viktor let out a relieved sigh as he settled into the couch, “It was starting to pinch. Nothing too bad, don’t worry.” 

“Are you sure?” Jayce asked softly, one hand holding him up while the other held Viktor’s hip. He watched the man closely, worriedly, “We can stop if-” 

“Do you want to stop?” 

“No!” He choked out, dark strands falling over his forehead. The answer came out faster than his mind could keep up. Complete instinct. He furrowed his brows, “No, I don’t. I just am… worried.” 

“Jayce, I am high out of my mind, having my way with a beautiful boy. I am fine.” 

He grinned at the sentiment, even as it made his face heat up, “Beautiful? Really?” 

Viktor rolled his red-tinged eyes, “You know you’re beautiful. I won’t feed your ego. Come and kiss me more, yes?” 

Jayce giggled. He leaned down, “Yes.” 

It was easier to kiss Viktor like this- more familiar. He still wasn’t the one leading, but it did feel like he had more control. Not that he’d minded being at the mercy of his companion. 

Jayce’s hand slid down the other man’s hip, grasping his thigh and pulling the leg against his waist. He could nearly wrap his hand entirely around the limb, fingertips almost touching. It made something primal, maybe territorial, bloom in his chest. Viktor was so fucking skinny.

“Mm-” Viktor gasped as their groins slotted together, fingers digging into Jayce’s shoulders. He looked up with those pretty sunset eyes, lips parted, “Jayce.” 

If he was sober, Jayce would’ve realized that his name sounded a little like a warning. But he was high, he was horny, and he had never been much of a good listener. And Viktor smelled so good and his skin was soft and Jayce was kissing up and down his throat. Really, it wasn’t his fault. He had too much he was preoccupied with. 

He rolled his hips again, desperate for friction, and paused. Something about that was… off. It didn’t feel how it should. 

“Hold on,” Viktor spoke up again, another warning. Jayce couldn’t hear him- he was too busy thinking. 

The cogs in his head were turning, and he was realizing, and- Shit. He pulled away like he’d been burned. He watched with wide eyes as Viktor sat up, the latter’s expression nearing resignation. 

“Jayce-” He began, and it sounded like the beginning of an explanation. 

Once again, Jayce was not listening. How the hell was Viktor so calm? This was serious!

“Oh my God.” He breathed out, running a hand through his already messy hair. He sat back on his heels, “Oh my God, Viktor, where’s your dick? What happened to it?” 

The other man watched him in stunned silence. It was totally unnerving. Really, why wasn’t he freaking out?!

“Did I crush it? Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that was possible. My Mom always told me I had more strength than I knew what to do with, I just didn’t think it could do this-” 

Viktor snorted. Loud and sharp enough that it shut Jayce up, quieted his mind. The two stared at each other for three long seconds. 

Then Viktor started laughing. 

The sound was light, a little wheezy, and beautiful. Despite the strangeness of the situation, it made Jayce smile. He’d never heard a laugh quite like it. 

Still, that didn’t take away from the very real panic coursing through him. 

“Jayce, you are- oh, God.” He chuckled, covering his mouth with a hand, “It is a good thing you have your looks.” 

He furrowed his brows. His brain was very slow right now and he was very, very confused. Shaking his head, he rested a hand on Viktor’s knee, “I don’t understand.” 

The smile the man gave Jayce was equal parts fondness and patronization, “I don’t have a, eh, dick, as you so eloquently put it. I never have.” 

Jayce tilted his head to the side as if things would make more sense at a 45-degree angle. He blinked once, twice, three times, “What?”

Viktor rolled his eyes, more for theatrics than anything else, “To put it technically, I was born a female. Which took me very little time to realize was not the case. Thus, here I am now. Not a female. My body simply… is a little behind in the process.” 

“Oh.” 

Jayce was the dumbest fucking idiot in the world. His face was absolutely on fire, embarrassment burning through him. Part of him hoped death would just take him now, or that this was all a dream he’d wake up from. If only to save himself from the humiliation. Viktor must have been kicking himself for spending time with such an imbecile. 

“Is that a problem for you?” Viktor asked when Jayce stayed silent, an incredulous eyebrow raised. The warmth was gone from him, defenses raised as he waited for an answer. 

Jayce lurched forward, desperate to fix the situation, to stop being so damn stupid. A large hand cupped Viktor’s cheek, “No! No, not at all. I’m sorry, I just- I feel so stupid.” He laughed, more self-deprecating than anything, “You’re great, Viktor- wonderful. And I’m an idiot. I didn’t- I’m sorry, my brain is not working. It’s not a problem. I like you how you are.” 

The word vomit spewing from him was grating on his nerves, making him cringe. He wanted to curl into a ball and die. This was the worst. 

He expected Viktor to pull away. To tell him to leave, that they were done and Jayce was unwelcome. He expected to be shunned for his idiocy. He would’ve deserved it, too. 

Instead, the man huffed out a laugh. He shook his head, “I’m not sure I’d go so far as to call you an idiot, Jayce. But it certainly was not one of your finest moments.” 

“Definitely not.” He grinned, running his thumb over the sharp cheekbone, “Try not to hold it against me? I don’t care that you’re a guy without a dick. I like you. I’m just very high.” 

“Oh, you like me?” Viktor wrapped a hand around Jayce’s forearm, “You just met me.” 

He gave a half-assed shrug, getting a little caught up in how starkly contrasting their skin tones were, “It doesn’t take much.” 

“Just weed and some kissing, huh?” 

“You also happen to be very cool.” Jayce argued, a teasing lilt to his voice, “Though the weed and the kissing don’t hurt.” 

Viktor chuckled. He looked so lovely with his hair down and a smile on his face. Jayce wanted to commit it to a canvas and look at it forever. 

“Can we do some more of it? The kissing?” He asked before he could stop himself. This longing in his chest was more than he could bear. 

The man’s eyes shimmered like starlight, something akin to pride flaring in him. He liked that Jayce wanted him. Jayce liked it too- he liked that look on Viktor’s face a lot. 

Just as Jayce’s companion opened his mouth to respond, though, they were interrupted. 

The door to the basement was flung open, letting in a flurry of pounding music and strobe lights. Jayce jumped a foot in the air, heart rate skyrocketing, while Viktor didn’t move a muscle.

“Vik, you down there?” A voice that could only be described as cackly called. From here, Jayce couldn’t see any part of the intruder besides black scuffed boots and two ankle-length blue braids, “Ekko says I can’t set off my fireworks unless you’re there to supervise!” 

Viktor laid his head against the back of the couch and looked up toward the doorway, “I’m assuming you won’t be taking no for an answer?” 

“Nope!” Came her enthusiastic reply as she rocked back and forth on her heels, “I told you I was gonna make you participate in the party. You’ve had your time.” 

The man let out a long sigh before responding, “I’ll be right there.” 

“Don’t take too long! I’ll be on the roof!” 

Then the door slammed shut, and they were in the quiet again. 

Viktor looked at Jayce with an expression bordering on apologetic, “It seems we’ll have to rain-check our kissing, unfortunately.” 

“You have to go?” He didn’t mean to sound as pathetic and whiny as he did. The thought of parting with him right now made him very sad. 

“Jinx is not one for patience.” Viktor got to his feet, stretching his arms above his head until his spine popped. His shirt rode up, giving Jayce a peek of smooth skin over a prominent hip bone, “And I’d prefer if my house didn’t get burned down by her antics. I like having a place to live.” 

Viktor was reaching for his cane and Jayce was panicking, panicking, panicking. He didn’t want to say goodbye, not yet. His mind was a haze but he knew that much. 

“Well, can I see you again? Sometime soon?” Desperate. He must’ve looked so desperate. He didn’t care. 

Viktor paused and looked down at him, half-smirking. His fingers tapped against the head of his cane, “I’m sure you’ll see me again, Jayce. Some time.” 

“But-” 

“You can stay down here as long as you’d like.” Viktor walked towards the stairs, favoring the weight of his bad leg a little, “Enjoy the quiet, get some rest, take care of your… predicament. No one will bother you.” 

It didn’t take a genius to know that the ‘predicament’ was Jayce’s not-so-subtle erection. His cheeks were heating up again. All he could do was watch with resignation as the man moved away from him. He was like water Jayce was trying to hold in his hands. 

Just as he was about to ascend the stairs, Viktor stopped again. He looked at Jayce over his shoulder, gazing through strands of brown hair. His eyes shone with warmth, “Thank you for keeping me company. I hope it was as… enjoyable for you as it was for me.” 

He left after that. Deserting Jayce in the basement with kiss-swollen lips, too-tight pants, and a whole lot of questions. 

[galactic-magick]

For You: AU!Claggor x Reader

Summary: In the alternate timeline, Powder encourages you to admit your feelings for Claggor.

Words: 800+

Author's Notes: Adult alternate timeline Claggor is fine af so I wrote this short oneshot. Also I just needed to write something more lighthearted and cute after writing that devastating Viktor fic earlier. Enjoy <3

“I don’t get why you can’t just tell him,” Powder huffs, shuffling through her drawers for a particular brush. She glides on eyeshadow in your favorite colors, endlessly teasing you while she works, “It’s obvious he’s liked you since we were kids.”

“Oh, like finally admitting your feelings to Ekko was so easy,” you roll your eyes, causing her to scold you for opening them. “Besides, that’s not even true. He probably just sees me like a sister.”

“Look,” Powder tilts your chin up as she applies blush to your cheeks. “As someone who was actually raised as his sister, I can promise you he treats you differently. I catch him staring at you all the time, and he goes out of his way to be nice to you. Like, he literally made a new hybrid flower for you for your last birthday. What is it you’re not getting?”

“He gives plants to everyone, I don’t think I was special,” you shrug, pressing out your lips so Powder can swipe on some gloss.

“You’re a lost cause sometimes,” she sighs with a laugh. “Come on, it’s time to make our entrance.”

-

The Innovator’s Competition is crowded as usual, with loud music and ambient lights showering the entries and guests. Powder meets up with Ekko while you go to grab a drink and browse the inventions.

People start dancing, and you sway back and forth a bit to the beat. You don’t particularly want to third wheel right now, so you make do on the sidelines. You’re closer to the snacks here, anyway.

“Wow, Y/N. You look beautiful.”

You whip your head towards the voice, your mouth stuffed with one of Jericho’s famous, sloppy appetizers.

“Oh! Hi, Claggor!” You swallow as quickly as you can and wipe your face with your sleeve. “Sorry, um, thank you.”

“Anytime,” he chuckles. “How come you’re not out there dancing?”

“I...I just don’t like dancing alone,” you say, your eyes darting back to Powder and the other couples and friend groups on the dance floor.

“Well let’s go then,” he extends his hand to you.

You smile and take it, weaving through the crowd as he pulls you towards the middle. You see Powder give you a thumbs up before your attention is back on Claggor, and suddenly the crowded room feels less overwhelming.

You let lose, showing off your most ridiculous dance moves without a worry in the world. That was the thing about Claggor, he always made you feel safe, like you could be yourself whenever he was around. There is never a glimmer of judgment in his eyes, never an inkling of unkindness. He’s been your most stable and trusted friend for years—he played with you, explored the city with you, mourned with you, rejoiced with you. He’s just that kind of guy, with a heart of gold that never wavers.

But if you told him how you really feel—how you’ve felt since you were young—things might not be the same.

-

After the competition, Claggor takes the scenic route while walking you home, showing you a couple new gardens he’s been working on around the city. He hopes that one day plant life can be the key to the pollution problem in the underground, a dream that isn’t too far off with the latest hybrids and prototypes he’s made. It’s fascinating, and you’ve always admired his natural talent with nature.

He picks you a flower from one of the gardens, the kind he knows are your favorite.

“For you,” he says, slithering the stem into your hair. His hands, his face—it’s all so dangerously close now. You can feel his warmth, feel his gentle gaze.

Maybe Powder’s right, no man who saw you as just a friend would look at you like this.

You take the chance and close the space between you, kissing him quickly before stepping back to gauge his reaction.

He immediately pulls you back in, grabbing you by the waist and kissing you harder. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers twiddling with his soft wavy hair.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he says, your lips barely moving apart.

“I think I have some idea,” you giggle.

“Would you look at that, what did I tell ya?” You see Powder and Ekko coming around the corner, clearly ecstatic about this new opportunity to tease you. “Finally.”

Claggor keeps holding you close as you fire back, “Did you follow us just to say ‘I told you so’?”

“Nah, I didn’t even know you left the party yet,” Powder laughs. “But boy am I glad I saw this!”

She keeps walking with Ekko, whispering and chuckling as they go. You and Claggor can’t help but burst into your own fit of laughter as well, basking in the hilarity of the whole situation.

“We’ll never live this down, will we?” Claggor smirks.

“Absolutely not.”

[pucksandpower]

hiii! with the chaos that was today’s career, could I request one with driver reader that she started telling her team that she wasn’t feeling good but still wanted to continue but the next moment she isn’t answering her radio because she fainted in the car and the car goes out, the marshals take her out of the car and she doesn’t wake up, maybe she has extreme dehydration and is hot to touch, etc.

How the other drivers react when they found out, her team, etc.

Thank you

Too Hot To Handle

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: the Qatar Grand Prix pushed every driver to the limit … and some past the limit

Warnings: heat stroke, dehydration, crash, medical conditions

The Lusail International Circuit hums with electric anticipation, its asphalt ribbon shimmering under the floodlights. The roar of the crowd fills the night but the oppressive heat weighs on everyone, creating a contrasting atmosphere of excitement and cautious apprehension.

Standing alongside your Red Bull Racing car, you wipe a bead of sweat from your brow. In only your first year with the reigning double champions, you already have a record that has quickly become the talk of the paddock. But for all the praise and whispers, there is one voice that stands out.

“Remember, liefje, it’s not just about speed tonight. Keep hydrated, alright?” Max’s voice is full of warmth and concern. His hand rests gently on your arm.

You flash him a confident smile even though you’re battling your nerves internally. “I’ve raced in heat before, Maxie. I won in Singapore. I’ll be fine.”

He pulls you into a quick embrace, the temperature doing little to dampen the spark between you. “It’s different here. This heat ... it’s like nothing I’ve ever raced in before.”

Pulling back, you raise an eyebrow teasingly. “You worried about me, Verstappen?”

He laughs but there’s a hint of steely seriousness in his blue eyes. “Always. Just ... promise me you’ll be careful out there. For both our sakes.”

You nod, touching your helmet to his. “Promise.”

The intercom in your ear crackles to life. “Drivers, to your cars!”

You both exchange a final glance. Racing is in your blood, it’s what brought you together, but it also keeps you apart, if only for the few hours you’re no longer partners in life but competitors on track.

Sliding into your car, you secure your helmet and gloves. The world outside becomes a bit muffled but your focus sharpens. The engine’s purr is a familiar comfort, but tonight, it’s edged with the unease Max’s words left behind.

Your race engineer, Hugh Bird, checks in over the radio, “Everything good, Y/N?”

You take a deep breath, “As good as it’ll ever be. Let’s light up this track.”

“Give them a show.”

Lights out and away we go.

***

The Qatar Grand Prix unfolds with its usual mix of intensity and skill, drivers navigating tight turns and overtaking with precision. But beneath the spectacle, a subtle tension mounts. The oppressive heat, the stark floodlights, and the weight of expectation — all of it seems to be building to something.

In the garage and on the pit wall, your team closely monitors the race and your performance. Hugh occasionally chimes in with updates, “You’re doing great, Y/N. Remember to hydrate whenever you need to.”

You nod even though he can’t see it, “Understood. The heat’s something else in here.”

A pause. Then, “Just keep stead. And Max told GP to tell me to tell you to remember what he said.”

A smile touches your lips, “I always do.”

***

The track is a blur as you push your car to its limits, feeling the adrenaline surge in tandem with the roar of the engines. It’s as if the heat has seeped into your very core, burning with intensity. Each lap feels slightly longer, every turn a tad sharper, as the humid air takes its toll.

“Y/N,” Hugh radioes through, sounding distant and slightly distorted by the pounding in your head, “you’re P2. Great pace. Remember to sip some water.”

A trickle of sweat runs down the side of your face, stinging your eye. Blinking rapidly, you reach for the button that activates your hydration system.

“Got it,” your voice sounds foreign even to your own ears. The water is lukewarm and tastes metallic, not as refreshing as you had hoped.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” he urges.

With every lap, the world outside your visor seems to grow brighter, the floodlights shimmering like mirages in a desert. The race has become a battle, not just against other drivers but against the environment and, increasingly, against yourself.

“You’re dropping pace. Is everything alright?” Hugh’s concerned voice crackles through.

A knot tightens in your stomach. “I don’t know. I ...” You trail off, the words catching in your throat as a wave of overwhelming dizziness hits.

You can hear the alarm in your engineer’s voice becoming more pronounced. “Y/N, talk to me. Do we need to pit?”

The heat wraps around you, constricting, making it difficult to breathe. Your hands, slick with sweat, struggle to grip the wheel even through your gloves. “Guys ... I don’t ... feel ...” The world spins and your words falters.

“Y/N? Y/N, talk to me!”

But before you can respond, before you can even finish your sentence, the world tilts and blurs into an incomprehensible whirlwind. The sweltering heat, the relentless pursuit of victory, and the weight of expectation converge into a maelstrom that engulfs you entirely.

Your hands, once deftly steering the RB19, now hang limply by your sides. The car veers off the track, careening towards the barriers. Panic rises in you but it’s too late. Your body refuses to act.

The deafening sound of metal against metal fills your ears, followed by the nauseating sensation of impact. The world outside your cockpit twists and spins, a kaleidoscope of colors and chaos. Then, abruptly, it all goes dark.

In the garage, your team watches in horror as the monitors show the violent crash. The radio falls silent, the connection severed. In that heartbeat, the world goes eerily quiet, punctuated only by the distant echoes of screeching tires and the blaring alarms.

Moments pass like hours and finally the static on the radio clears, replaced by your frantic race engineer, “—please respond. Y/N? Are you okay?”

But there’s no response. Your world remains shrouded in darkness as the circuit comes to a standstill, gripped by an eerie silence that drowns out even the most deafening of cheers.

The track is plunged into chaos. Red flags wave fervently, signaling danger. Marshals rush towards your wrecked car, their fluorescent jackets contrasting brightly against the night.

“Get her out! Get her out!” One of the marshals shouts as they reach your car. Your limp form is carefully extracted and they begin immediate first aid. The severity of the situation is clear — the heat, the dehydration, it’s all taken its toll.

The crowd watches, a collective gasp filling the air soon replaced by a thick, heavy silence. As your unconscious form is stretchered away, the weight of all those warnings crashes down.

Back on the pit wall, four words whispered into the radio are the first of many about to turn your boyfriend’s world upside down.

“Safety car, safety car.”

***

“Max, we’re pitting this lap. Box, box,” the calm, steady voice of Gianpiero Lambiase, Max’s race engineer, instructs over the radio.

Max’s voice is curt, his mind still on the race. “Why? Tires feel fine.”

“Non-negotiable. Safety car is out. We need you to pit now.”

The urgency in GP’s voice is not lost on Max and he immediately senses that something is wrong. “What happened? Why is there a safety car?”

Silence follows for a heartbeat too long. “There was an incident. Just focus on your race.”

An icy dread seeps into Max’s bones. The circuit is massive yet his world feels terribly small at this moment. “Who was it? Who crashed?”

His engineer hesitates, and in that pause, the weight of a thousand possibilities presses on Max.

“Who. Was. It?”

GP wavers, “It’s … Y/N.”

Max’s breathing becomes ragged. Panic and fear flood his system. “Why the hell wasn’t I told immediately?”

“It was team orders. The decision was made to keep you focused on the race.”

Max laughs but it lacks any humor. “Team orders? You’re saying Christian decided not to tell me that Y/N ... my Y/N is hurt?”

“Yes,” the reply is uncharacteristically soft, “It was believed to be in everyone’s best interest for you to be fully focused on the race.”

Max has never felt such white-hot rage. He spits into the radio, seething with fury and pain. “You tell Christian that if he ever makes a decision like that again about someone I love, I��ll cut his balls off with a rusty spoon.”

“Max, I understand you’re upset. But right now, we need you to stay focused.”

Stay focused? When the love of his life is in potential danger? The weight of what that means presses down, threatening to crush him. “I need to see her,” he finally rasps out, voice breaking.

The plea hangs in the air, met by another long silence. Finally, the radio clicks on again, softer than ever. “Y/N would want you to finish. You know that. Win this for her.”

Tears blur Max’s vision, mixing with the sweat already pooling in his helmet, but he nods, a silent assent. The roaring engine now sounds distant, the glinting lights a backdrop to the storm that rages within him. Every second is an eternity, every turn a test of his resolve to keep racing. But Max drives on, pushing his limits for you.

Every fiber of his being silently screams your name, a prayer or a promise or both, Max doesn’t know. All he knows is that the faster he crosses the finish line, the sooner he can be with you.

For the world watching, the race continues, cars whizzing by. But for Max Verstappen, each lap, each second, is a race against his own heart, torn between duty and desperate love.

***

“Her pulse is erratic! Get the defibrillator ready!” A medic shouts as the emergency team frantically works around you, the ambulance parked haphazardly nearby.

Another voice, calmer but filled with urgency, counters, “Wait, give her a moment. She might come around.”

“Come on, Y/N,” A young medic mutters, pressing an oxygen mask to your face. “Don’t do this.”

The ambulance door opens again, the head medic speaking into a radio, “We need an airlift, now. The situation’s deteriorating rapidly.”

Another voice, muffled, replies, “The helicopter’s on its way! Clear the area.”

As the medics continue to administer aid, working desperately to stabilize you, the chief medic tries to maintain order, “Every second counts. This heat stroke is severe, coupled with dehydration ... it’s a nightmare scenario.”

“We should have had more cooling stations,” the younger medic mutters. “The humidity coupled with the heat ... it’s brutal tonight. And we’re not even the ones out there driving.”

The older medic takes a deep breath. “That is on the organizations. We can’t fix there mistakes but we can focus on what happening now and do everything we can to get her through this.”

The thrum of helicopter blades soon overwhelms the noise of the circuit, growing louder as it approaches. Soon, the bright light from its landing spotlight punctuates the night. “The helicopter’s here!” Someone shouts.

“Alright, team, on three,” the chief medic commands. They work in perfect sync, lifting you carefully but quickly, your body still unresponsive.

As they approach the helicopter, the pilot shouts over the roar, “We’ve got the best onboard. She’s in good hands.”

“She’s one of our best,” the younger medic shouts back. “She has to be okay.”

The chief medic, securing you inside, murmurs more to himself than anyone else, “Come on, Y/N. The race isn’t over. Keep fighting.”

***

“You expect me to smile and stand on that podium knowing she’s been airlifted to a hospital?” Max’s voice trembles with rage as he confronts the FIA officials blocking his way.

“Mr. Verstappen, there are rules, procedures,” an official replies stiffly.

“Rules? Y/N might be fighting for her life right now and you want to talk to me about rules?” Max’s hands clench and unclench as he physically holds himself back from throwing a punch.

Another official steps forward, trying to mediate, “Max, we understand your feelings but millions of viewers are watching. The podium is an essential part of the race.”

Max’s eyes flash with anger. “You think I care about a trophy when my girlfriend is in a hospital? Do you really think that piece of metal means anything to me right now?”

“We sympathize— ” the first official begins but is cut off by Max’s heated response.

“You sympathize? Do you even know what that word means?” He’s on the verge of breaking, voice barely above a whisper as he continues, “She is everything to me. Everything. And you want me to smile and wave for the cameras?”

The air grows thick with tension. The two drivers from McLaren waiting for their cue to go to the podium are silent, their eyes darting between Max and the officials.

A new voice interjects , “Let him go.”

It’s Lewis Hamilton, who despite DNFing early in the race, made his way across the paddock after seeing the distress on his rival’s face. “There are things more important than a ceremony.”

The officials exchange glances, clearly not expecting this intervention. But before they can reply, Max levels them with a final scathing look. “Fine me if you must! Penalize me! Suspend me for all I care! But I am going to her.”

And off he goes.

***

A nurse at the desk recognizes Max immediately when he runs into the hospital. “Mr. Verstappen,” she begins hesitantly, “Miss Y/L/N is in the ICU. Room 302.”

He doesn’t need any further prompting to sprint down the hall. Reaching the room, he stops dead in his tracks. You’re there, surrounded by machines that beep and whirr, tubes running to and from you, an oxygen mask on your face. The sight of you, once so full of life, now frail and vulnerable, breaks him.

His voice, when he finally managed to finds it, is a choked whisper, “Y/N ...”

Approaching the bedside, Max gently takes your hand, feeling its clamminess. “Hey, liefje ... it’s me,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles. His tears fall freely, wetting the back of your hand.

“Come on, love,” his voice cracks as he continues, “You’ve got to pull through this. For us.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, tracing the familiar curves and lines he’s come to adore. “Remember that time in Monaco? When we snuck out for that secret dinner that our trainers would have killed us for? We promised each other forever that night. You can’t leave me now. Not when we’ve got so many more memories left to make.”

The room’s silence is punctuated only by the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor in a cruel reminder of the fragility of the moment.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs. “Please ... please come back to me.”

Leaning in, he rests his forehead against yours, allowing the weight of his anguish, love, and hope to flow between the two of you in the sterile room.

***

Nothing has changed. The steady beep of the heart monitor still punctuates the silence of the hospital room. Max sits vigilantly at your bedside, his hand gently clasping yours.

It’s been three days since the crash and you still have not woken up. The doctors say your condition is stable but uncertain.

Max leans in close and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Morning, liefje. I’m still here. Not going anywhere.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch impossibly gentle as if you might break. In the stark hospital lighting, the dark circles under his eyes are visible. Sleep hasn’t come easy to him, not with you lying here.

A soft knock at the door draws Max’s attention. Hugh pokes his head in hesitantly. “Hey, Max. Any change?”

Max shakes his head, swallowing hard. “Nothing yet. But she’s fighting. I know she is.”

Your race engineer steps further into the room, his expression solemn. “I should have seen the signs earlier. Pushed her to hydrate more. Slowed her pace.” His voice catches, “It was my job to look out for her.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Max says firmly. “Y/N is stubborn. We both know that. She wanted to prove herself.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “It’s what makes her brilliant.”

Hugh pulls up a chair on the opposite side of the bed. For a moment, the two men sit in pensive silence. Then your race engineer speaks again, softer this time. “Has she ... has she responded at all? Squeezed your hand or anything?”

Max clenches his jaw and stares past Hugh at the blank wall. “No. Nothing yet. But I know she can hear me. I tell her about training, the team ... I update her on everything. She’ll want to jump right back in when she wakes up.”

Footsteps approach and a nurse enters, checking the equipment and your vitals. After making some notes on a chart, she offers an encouraging smile. “No change but she seems stable. Just keep talking to her. Familiar voices help.”

After she departs, Hugh leans forward, clasping your still hand. “Hear that, Y/N? You’ve got to wake up. The team needs you. Your fans are all rooting for you. And ...” His voice cracks. “I need my driver back.”

Max looks at him gratefully. “We all need her back.” Reaching out, he gives your race engineer’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Another knock sounds. This time, it’s Christian. His face is etched with guilt and worry. “Max. Any improvement today?”

Max’s expression hardens. He hasn’t forgotten Christian’s decision to withhold news of your crash. But his voice remains even as he responds to the team principal. “Nothing new.”

Christian pulls up a chair next to Hugh. He chooses his next words carefully. “Max, I need to apologize. I made the wrong call that night. You deserved to know immediately about Y/N. My priorities were skewed.” His voice shakes slightly. “Seeing her like this ... I would give anything to go back and change what I did.”

Max studies him for a long moment and some of the hardness leaves his eyes. “I appreciate that. But right now, the past doesn’t matter. All that matters is her getting better.”

Christian nods. Reaching out, he gently smoothes your hair. “You hear that, Y/N? We’re all here for you. Your whole team. Now you need to come back to us.”

A heavy silence settles on the room once more. The three of them remain clustered around the bed … keeping vigil … willing you to show any small sign of recovery.

After some time passes, the ringing of Hugh’s phone snaps the three men out of their thoughts. “Sorry to interrupt,” your press officer’s voice filters through the speaker, “but the team’s on the line. They want to send their well wishes to Y/N.”

Hugh glances at Max questioningly who nods, “Patch them through. Let the whole team remind her why she needs to wake up.”

A smile tugs at your race engineer’s lips. “You got it. Go ahead, team. She can hear you.”

A chorus of voices floods the room. Your mechanics, pit crew, strategists, PR team … everyone chimes in with encouraging messages.

“Come on, Y/N! We need our star girl back on the grid.”

“You can do this, kid. You’re the toughest one out there!”

“We all believe in you. Keep fighting!”

Max grips your hand tighter, emotions threatening to spill over. Even Christian and Hugh have sheens of tears in their eyes.

“Alright,” your race engineer says after the team signs off. “You heard them. Time to wake up.”

And that’s when Max feels it. A short, weak squeeze of his hand.

Then your eyelids begin to flutter.

“Y/N?” Max leaps to his feet, leaning over you anxiously. “Can you hear me?”

Slowly, painfully, your eyes open, taking in the scene around you. Confusion clouds your expression. “M-Max?” You rasp.

A brilliant smile breaks across Max’s face. Relief floods through him so powerful that his knees nearly buckle as he chokes out, “Yes, yes it’s me! You’re back, liefje. You’re really back.”

Hugh lets out a shaky laugh, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Welcome back, superstar.”

You try to speak again but Max hushes you gently. “Save your strength. We’ve got all the time in the world to talk.”

Christian grins, looking years younger. “Oh thank god. I need to tell the team. They’ll be thrilled. Welcome back, Y/N.” He hurries from the room, phone already in hand.

Your race engineer squeezes your shoulder. “Get some rest. We’ll all be here when you wake up.”

As he and the nurse move discreetly out of the room, you gaze up at Max. “You ... you stayed.”

Max lifts your hand to his lips, blinking back tears. “Of course I stayed. I’ll always stay by your side.”

He leans down, pressing his lips against your chapped ones. All the fear, the uncertainty, the heartache of the past few days melts away.

You’re back. You’re really back. And Max knows, without a shred of doubt, that your lives from this day on will be greater and more meaningful than all your wildest dreams.

***

In the following days, drivers from across the grid make the pilgrimage to your hospital room. They come bearing gifts — flowers, balloons, even a nearly life-size plush race car. But more importantly, they come bearing a message.

“That race should never have happened,” Lewis says solemnly, handing you a get-well card covered in signatures. “The heat was dangerous. We should have acted sooner.”

Esteban grips your hand tightly. “I’m sorry, Y/N. We should have spoken up about the conditions sooner. We all suffered but you suffered most.”

“Your crash woke us all up,” Lance adds. “No trophy is worth risking drivers’ safety even more than we already do each race.”

You’re moved by their solidarity but sigh knowingly. “The FIA would never have listened to just one driver saying something. But maybe they’ll listen to all of us.”

Max’s jaw clenches, residual anger simmering beneath the surface. “They have to listen. We won’t race in unsafe conditions again.”

The other drivers nod, They know the power that you all wield together and for the first time in a long time, you are going to use it.

In a show of outspoken unity, the GPDA drafts a strongly worded letter condemning the lack of caution around extreme heat and demanding tangible changes to make sure drivers aren’t put in avoidable jeopardy.

All twenty of you threaten to strike.

To your surprise, the FIA not only apologizes for the oversight but pledges to implement the requested changes immediately.

“Your crash was a wake-up call,” the FIA president says solemnly during a visit to your hospital room. “We should have protected you better. That will never happen again.”

When he departs, you let out a long breath, leaning back against the pillows. The anger and hurt from that night haven’t disappeared entirely but you feel a sense of hope, that some good has come from the experience.

Max clasps your hand between both of his. “What you went through is unacceptable but you used that to make the sport safer for every driver out there. I’m so proud of you.”

You give him a tired smile. “We did this together. All of us.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Get some rest. When you’re better, we’ve got plenty more checkered flags to take. Side by side.”

The long road to full recovery still lies ahead. But with Max by your side, and all the drivers behind you, you know everything will be okay.

The race goes on but it will be a safer race thanks to you.

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 5; ghoap x reader) masterlist

-

Give him blood and he’ll give you something new to chew on.

Except that isn’t the way it goes. Not this time at least.

He tries to talk Ghost out of it, but it falls on deaf ears. Blatantly ignored. The car barrels down the motorway under the cloak of night, a swell of stars overhead as the city falls farther behind. Radio shut off. Johnny thinks if Ghost had his way, the radio would’ve been pulled out entirely, just wires and an empty, black cavity in the dashboard, but it’s a rental. 

And no one wants to deal with the paperwork involved in damaging military property. Not even Ghost.

Ghost won’t so much as glance over at him. Unaffected as ever, as if they didn’t just fuck. Johnny’s stomach hurts when he thinks about it. Even without her knowing, he’s broken his girl’s trust. Not for the first time; maybe not even the last. His guilt echoes not only that he let Ghost make him come, but that he liked it—that the buzz in his bones says do it again, please god, again, please let me come, I need to come, touch me, please—

He thinks about his girl, then turns to Ghost again.

In the pit of his stomach, Johnny knows this is wrong. In his rational mind, he knows it. If he were in a better place, he wants to think that he’d make a real attempt to change Ghost’s mind, maybe get him to turn around at the next gas station, but he can’t deny the excitement bubbling in his belly at the prospect of seeing his girl again after a week of nothing. 

The silence has been eating away at him. Bits of his brain flaking away, moth-eaten. Checking his phone again and again to no new messages, getting the same voicemail message whenever he calls. Something flutters high in his chest, an itch he can’t scratch; it tells him to take off in the middle of the night, drive all the way back home and pound on her door until she’s forced to answer it, forced to talk to him face to face.

Again and again, he tries looking at it from her perspective—tries to empathize with her. What he would’ve done in her shoes had she allowed a coworker to grab his dick in front of a crowd of strangers. It’s more than fair, he thinks. His own shame leaks out of his pores in the middle of the night, sleeping on top of the covers because he sweats right through the sheets. 

And yet, he keeps butting up against his own anger. Talk it out with me, yell at me, he growls into her voicemail, anger growing as the days pass one by one. 

It’s the road that alerts him to their arrival into the city more than anything. More cracks in the asphalt, the car rattling over sewer depressions and potholes in a way that says home sweet home. Usually it’s a source of comfort, like seeing the silver lining on grey clouds or the iridescence in an oil spill, purples and greens catching the light. Not now. Now the road winds like descending into the underworld, each turn coming with a sinking feeling. 

They park down the road from the flower shop, tucked just out of sight. A cool breeze wafts over his hot face when he steps out of the car. It nearly rocks him back. When he glances up, his heart stutters at the sight of her bedroom window, sealed tight now. Only cracked open during their sleepovers, when Johnny runs a bit too hot at night for them to sleep comfortably with the window closed. 

“Should I…do ye want me to give her a call to wake her up?” Johnny asks tentatively, shutting the car door softly so as not to make a noise. 

Ghost shakes his head. “We’ll let ourselves in.”

Johnny’s picked hundreds of locks in his time; he’s jimmied open doors with crowbars, set up explosive charges, used a good old fashioned ram from time to time—no stranger to the trade—but it feels decidedly uncomfortable with Ghost at his back, staring down at him as he breaks into his own girlfriend’s apartment. 

“This is a bad idea,” he grumbles, turning the pick in the lock until he hears a familiar click inside. 

Ghost doesn’t answer, just raps his knuckles against the back of Johnny’s head. A silent get a move on. 

Her apartment looks the same but different when they enter it. His muscles remember the layout though. The pink couch in the living room with two dimpled pillows on either side, the footstool by the door, the stand with her shoes all piled in neat little rows, the vase on her kitchen island with a fresh new bundle of flowers, fragrant when he dips his head to take a whiff. He’s loved flowers ever since meeting his girl. 

Ghost doesn’t try to muffle his footsteps for once. He rummages through her cabinets and drawers with all the finesse of a first time burglar looking to get caught. It smacks of intentionality. Johnny’s worked with him too many times in the field to know that if Ghost wanted to disappear into the darkness, he would. He’d be the thing creeping silently through the shadows, tread lighter than air, close enough to touch but never see. 

So it’s more than deliberate when he noisily shuts a drawer. Baiting her out. 

It’s no surprise when Johnny hears her creep around the corner from out of her bedroom. He’s tucked in the shadows of the living room, just out of the light, so he sees her first when she comes silently down the hall, whole body trembling with fear, the bat she keeps beside her bed drawn over a shoulder. Even her hands shake around the grip.

Of course she yelps when Johnny says her name, stepping out of the shadows, swinging wild. He winces when the bat smashes into a lamp, shattering it on impact. 

“Fuck!” she screams, scurrying backwards into the wall behind her. Several framed pictures rattle against the wall, nearly knocked off their hooks. 

“Noisy, isn’t she?” Ghost grumbles from the kitchen, tossing a bored glance over, unbothered by the commotion. He undoubtedly heard her creeping down the hall as well. 

“What the fuck?” she gasps, chest heaving when she breathes. Her eyes dart from Johnny to Ghost’s massive form in the other room. Poor nervous thing. She must recognize Johnny’s voice saying her name even through the panic because her lips droop in a frown, more confused than petrified.

“Hen, it’s jus’ us—nothing to worry about,” Johnny coos, hands stretched out in front of him to show he means no harm. 

It gets her to lower the bat, but only just, the slightest dip that has him darting forward to pry it gently from her hands. The ceramic shards on the floor will have to be swept up later, but he’s relieved that at least she didn’t step on any of them. 

Up close, she’s just as pretty as he remembers. Pretty as pie. How could she not be? In the glow of youth still, not like it's been a decade since they last spoke face to face—only a little over a week. A sight for sore eyes, even though Johnny’s narrow when he stares down at her and thinks about the week of his texts and calls going unanswered. His jaw undulates, rage held back by the thin thread of her scent that wafts under his nose, making him lean into her. 

Breathe in and out. 

“Us?” she repeats, brow furrowing.

She glances over at Ghost again, the man still ambling around the kitchen, at home in her little one bedroom apartment like he visits her frequently. Like it’s his as well. 

“Aye…Ghost wanted to come—Simon wanted to apologize…for the other day,” Johnny explains. 

“You broke into my apartment in the middle of the night…so Simon could apologize for sexually harassing me?” she says, the disbelief smacking in her words. 

“Hen, it's no' nice to say it like that—” 

“No time like the present,” Ghost says, not ashamed in the slightest. “Heard you weren’t taking Johnny’s calls. Might not’ve had to do this if you’d picked up.” 

Johnny doesn’t believe a word of that, but there’s no reason to call him out on it now. 

He can see her wrestle with a trifecta of emotions competing for first place. Anger, embarrassment, and then, a smidge of worry holding up the rear. Aware of the fact that she woke up to two grown men, one practically a stranger, breaking into her apartment under the guise of having a conversation. His heart aches at the thought. The lion’s share of the blame rests with him, but still it’s her that suffers for it. 

“You…you shouldn’t be here,” she rasps, flinching when Johnny lays a hand on her waist, towering over where she’s still cowered against the wall. Bat gone now, defenceless. Her pupils narrow to a pinprick. He almost tuts, poor thing. Scared out of her wits. 

It feels so good to touch her though. Soft and yielding. 

“‘Was Simon’s idea, hen, but, ah—” his breathing picks up when his fingers tighten on her waist and she squirms “—I was goin’ crazy thinkin’ ye were pissed for what happened last week. Couldnae get a wink of sleep—kept closin’ my eyes and seein’ your face. Nearly broke me.”

“I am pissed at you,” she snaps, temper getting the better of her.

“I ken, I ken,” Johnny coos, ducking his head until his lips graze her temple. “Simon’s sorry—we came all the way here so he could tell ye to your face, but fuck, hen, I’m sorry too—shoulda said something instead of standin’ there like a fuckin’ dolt—”

“You should’ve,” she interrupts, still fuming mad, an iceberg melting right in front of them. It makes his cock pulse.

“—Aye, hen, I’ve no excuse, none at all. Shoulda told Simon to fuck off and keep his hands to himself—”

“Careful, Johnny,” Ghost says warningly, finally stepping into the living room. He fills out the archway imposingly, almost forced to twist his body on an angle to step in. 

Her eyes cut over to Ghost, narrowing, lips pursing. Johnny’s heart jumps in his chest. It’s one thing to see his girl again in the flesh, but to see her all righteous and on the verge of an argument—he could bend her over the back of the couch now, sink into the plush, delicate folds of her pussy, reacquaint himself with deep, languid thrusts. Heaven after not getting his cock wet in a week.

He flinches when he thinks about the last person to touch his dick. 

“So you’re sorry?” she says to Ghost, her disbelief clear. Difficult to see why she wouldn’t find it hard to believe that the man that shamelessly grabbed her ass in broad daylight in front of a group of his colleagues and her boyfriend would now choose to apologize. 

Johnny knows the answer is no when he sees the way Ghost’s eyes rove over her body, taking stock of her little cotton pajamas and her bare feet curling against the cold floor. Ghost tilts his head to the side, eyes travelling back up to meet hers. “Sure I am, bird. Don’t I look sorry?”

Neither of them answer that. Arguing with Ghost feels different, like inviting in danger. Moving too suddenly in front of a hungry dog, jowls loose and salivating for a bite. 

He takes a step closer. “Complete pillock, wasn’t I? And now Johnny’s getting the silent treatment ‘cause of it. Just couldn’t bear another second of him moping around base on the verge of tears.” 

Johnny frowns at that. His girl frowns too, but there’s something more to it. He wouldn’t blame her for not accepting Simon’s apology, if he could even call it that—nothing about it rings sincere, more like words spoken softly to call a kitty over—but questioning it feels worse somehow. Like detonating a bomb at two thousand feet above ground. 

“…Okay,” she says instead, voice trembling a little. “Apology accepted. You guys can go home now.”

“Bird’s forgiving, huh, Johnny?” 

Johnny preens despite himself. “Aye. She’s a good girl, Lt. Told ye so.”

Ghost nods. “That’s right. A good girl who’s gonna let us make it up to her ‘til we have to report back in forty-eight hours.”

“Wait, you can’t—” she starts, then cuts herself off when Ghost’s eyes flash.

He can’t help the way he shudders at the helpless look on her face. Downturned eyebrows, pretty lips slack with disbelief, just the slightest hint of a whine building in her throat that dies when it dawns on her that nothing short of calling the cops will make the two of them leave. 

And she’s a good girl—would never call the cops on him. His perfect girl. Sweet as pie. 

Johnny falls in love a little bit more when she presses her squeezed fists against her eyes and exhales. “Fine. I’m too—I’m going back to bed. We can talk about this in the morning.”

Ghost doesn’t react to her acceptance. It’s taken as a simple fact of nature—he says something and it happens. He speaks the world into being. 

“I’ll take the couch,” he grunts, finally sitting down to unlace his boots. He looks comically large on her little couch—it’s more than likely that his feet will hang off the end, if not everything from the knee down. 

Johnny already figured as much. No point in them driving all the way back to base when they both have the next two days off duty and there’s a perfectly serviceable couch for Ghost and the other half of her bed for him. He thought they’d have to convince her a bit more or strong arm her into it (a putrid thought; he’d rather have sweet talked her into the idea), but his girl always manages to surprise him in the best way. 

On that thought, he looks over his shoulder towards the bedroom door, cock throbbing again at the thought of getting to hold his girl’s body against his. Touch starved dog. Mangy mutt, tongue lolling out at even the possibility of a pet. 

Ghost must notice the object of his gaze because he sets him straight. “You can take the floor, Johnny.” 

His tone brooks no argument. When Johnny whirls around, the words already on his tongue, she’s my girl, I’ve already slept in that bed ten times over, the sight of Ghost’s bare face, the mask now off, dangling in his hand like some scrap of fabric, makes him lose his train of thought. It’s not often he’s granted the luxury of seeing Ghost’s face—wide, clean shaven jaw, buzzed blond hair, old burn marks like a half-moon around his eye, nasty old scar slicing through his lips—and to see it now, here, makes something in him give. 

Saturnine man with a wolf’s appetite. Ravenous. 

It burns him that his girl looks slightly relieved at having the bed to herself. Irks him. Makes his jaw clench on a mean remark, half tempted to spit out something cross. Just because things have gotten complicated, now he’s not welcome in her bed? After the week he’s spent toiling, trying to make amends? Pleading desperately over the phone, stewing in guilt and heartache—Johnny knows she’s a good girl, but if he finds out that she’s replaced him with someone else in the week since they last saw each other—

Even the thought makes him see red.

He watches her as she turns around to retreat back to bed, more than a little displeased. 

“Give Johnny a little kiss before bed, why don’t you, bird?” Ghost lightly suggests. Not a suggestion. 

She freezes mid-turn. His expression dares her to put up a fuss. Johnny again nearly clucks his tongue, troubled on her behalf. Her spitfire nature is snuffed out easily under that stare. Grown men with experience in the field wither under Ghost’s stare. It’s no weakness of hers that she acquiesces time and again to his demands, glancing up at Johnny from under her eyelashes before shuffling over, pressing the lightest of kisses to his cheek. 

“Better than that,” Ghost grunts, unimpressed. 

His poor darling. Humiliated now. No skin off his back though. Johnny’s heart pumps double time when she presses her lips to his; soft petals that spread when he slips his tongue into her mouth, too eager after a week of nothing. Touch starved. Desperate to sink into her, lap his tongue over her lips and the roof of her mouth and press her jaw open to spit messily in her mouth. Take it, hen, every piece of me.

She rips her lips from his and dances away when he tries to get his hands on her, eyes wide, casting one last glance over at Ghost before hightailing it back to her room. 

He barely resists going after her. Only Ghost’s stare roots him in place; his voice in Johnny’s head that rumbles, heel. I’ll tell you when to go.

He still doesn’t know what it says about him that he angles himself towards it. Bows his head to it. Moth to a flame that shocks him to the bone when he touches it.

Ghost tosses him the second pillow from the other end of the couch and takes the only blanket for himself. No matter. Johnny’s bivouacked on snowy cliff sides, chilblains blistering his toes for weeks; nights spent camped in torrential downpours, his tent on the verge of collapsing; windswept baysides chilling him to the bone. He can handle a pillow on a hardwood floor. 

The ebb and flux of an ocean in his ear, and then Ghost’s voice from the couch: “I’ll take first watch.”

Whole body falling loose as if snipping a cord tethering him to the world. 

“I’ll clean up the lamp in the morning,” he mumbles, vision already blurring. Ghost hums low in his throat.

He falls asleep with Ghost’s voice in his head, his girl’s taste still in his mouth.

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 17 (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

☆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, mentions of OC thinking Jungkook was going to hurt himself in October, mentions of Hobi, explicit content: nipple/breast play, hickeys, praising, teasing, oral sex (male and female receiving), jerking off, balls sucking, a bit of mouth fucking, hair pulling, fingering, unprotected sex (don't be stupid)

☆word count: 9k

☆a/n: I don't want this to be the end no :') thank you for accompanying me on this journey. I hope you loved this story as much as I loved writing it, and I hope it stays in your heart like it will for sure stay in mine <3 thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

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

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, December 19th

It snowed for the first time of the year this afternoon. 

It had been forecasted for a week now, but you still smile as you walk out of the exam building along with Nabi, a blanket of snow covering the ground. Students are milling around, throwing snowballs and building snowmen as their cheeks turn rosy, and their breaths turn into clouds that slowly lift towards the cloud-covered sky. 

It’s not snowing anymore, but it’s supposed to start again over the night, which you reckon might disrupt your plans of driving home tomorrow with Taehyung, Ariane and Jungkook. You think your mother would be relieved - the apartment will be crowded for two weeks, and you know she likes her space.

At least she doesn’t have a boyfriend this year, and so it’ll only be the five of you. It’s not like you aren’t used to sharing a roof with the three others though - you’ve been good at it this semester, especially considering that you and Jungkook have been sharing a room, and Taehyung and Ariane another.

Which left your old room as a guest room for the nights Jimin and Sera get too drunk with you to make their way home.

Your relationship with Jungkook has slowly evolved over the weeks and months since you’d run home thinking that he was going to hurt himself. You’re now fully dating, or at least you tell so to everyone that asks you where you’re standing when it comes to Jungkook.

You know he does the same anyway, even if you haven’t really stated to each other that you are boyfriend and girlfriend yet. You don’t think it matters - your relationship with him has been going on for far longer than just a few weeks, and the absence of a label doesn’t scare you in the slightest. Not when you fall asleep and wake up next to him every day, his first and last words of the day always love confessions uttered against your skin.

It’s a side of Jungkook that you like. The way he’s demonstrative of his affection, not caring if your brother is watching whenever he hugs you or kisses you. Taehyung has cursed the two of you repeatedly for it, but there’s just some beauty in the carefree act of loving each other in front of the very person you thought would end you that you both can’t let go of.

Speaking about that, your relationship with Taehyung has been… strained, since October. You haven’t really been able to forgive him for what happened that night he threw Jungkook out of the apartment, and he hasn’t quite been able to forgive you for hiding your relationship with Jungkook from him. You think he’s a little hypocritical for it - he and Jungkook have had no trouble resuming their friendship despite the fact that you and Jungkook are now a thing. But you don’t mind. 

As long as Jungkook is happy, then you are happy too.

“You coming to Yoongi and Namjoon’s tonight, right?” Nabi says as you walk down the path, your shoes crunching on the snow.

You chuckle. “You think I’d miss Yoongi introducing his boyfriend?” you say. “Hell nah. Of course I’ll be there.”

Nabi laughs, slightly shaking her head. “It’s not like you haven’t seen them together at the gym.”

She’s got a point, but you still want to see gym guy - Mikey, you’ve now found out - out of his natural habitat, aka the gym. 

“Is Jungkook coming?” she asks.

You nod. “Later though. He’s going out for drinks with his friends, and he said he’d meet up around eleven.”

“That’s late,” she comments.

You playfully push her. “We’ll probably be going until three am, I think eleven is fine.”

She laughs, though her eyes sparkle as she looks at you, with excitement and amusement you know is reciprocated in your own gaze.

Tonight will be one for the books, and you just can’t wait.

You have to head to your apartment first, to take a quick shower and grab the drinks you’ve bought for the evening. Nabi tags along, chilling with Ariane in the living room while you get ready. You get out of the shower ten minutes later to see that they’ve been joined by Taehyung.

The absence of Jungkook brings a pout to your lips, even though you know he’s just with Jimin and Eunwoo at Jimin’s apartment, pre-drinking for the bar.

“What’s up?” Taehyung greets you. 

You offer him a tight-lipped smile. He takes it in stride, looking away from you to focus on Nabi and Ariane’s conversation while you make your way to your room to do your makeup quickly. Soon enough you’re ready to go, and you stop by the kitchen to grab the drinks - different flavours of lemonade with alcohol, like maybe it’s summer and the snow outside is but a mirage.

“Let’s go!” you say as you reach the living room next, and Nabi nods as she jumps up from the couch, meeting you near the door.

“I am so excited Y/n, you have no idea,” she says, and you laugh as you nod approvingly.

“Let’s go see what that Mikey is made of.”

Her laugh doubles up, and it follows you outside after you’ve put your coats and boots on. You’ve decided to walk to Yoongi and Namjoon’s place, and Nabi lets out a happy yelp when it starts snowing again.

“It’s so pretty!” she says, motioning to the fat snowflakes that are lazily falling from the sky.

You fully agree with her - there’s something magical about the first day of snow. It fills the air with excitement and joy and nostalgia for the days when you were younger and the first snow meant the beginning of the Christmas season, which you reckon might have always been your favourite season after all.

“It really is,” you agree with Nabi.

She nods wisely, and then throws you a look. “Did you know Ariane’s grandfather was French?”

You actually did. Ariane told you it was the reason why she’d decided to do a semester abroad in Paris, and that her grandfather had also been the one to name her. 

“Yeah, she told me all about it when we went out to the karaoke bar,” you say, referencing an outing that had taken place in early November, when your relationship with Jungkook still felt fresh.

Not that it doesn’t anymore. You reckon being with Jungkook will always be refreshing to you - he’s the oasis in the middle of your desert.

“Oh right,” Nabi lets out. “That time you lost your voice for five days straight.”

“I did not!” you cry out as she bursts out laughing.

You, as a matter of fact, did lose your voice, but it was only because you and Jungkook had gotten too drunk and you were screaming more than singing by the end of the evening.

You spend the rest of the walk to Yoongi’s apartment bickering with Nabi, laughing as you reminisce about the good times you spent over the last few months. And there have been many - Jungkook fits right in with your friend group, and you’ve been hanging out with all of them on multiple occasions, Taehyung, Ariane, Sera and Jimin even tagging along some of the time.

You get to Yoongi’s apartment at the same time as a flustered Seokjin, who admits he had to sprint to make it in time because Ria complained about his tardiness. He’s clutching two rosé bottles for dear life - Ria’s preferred alcoholic beverage now - and he explains he was late because of them. Though you know Ria probably wasn’t actually upset with him in the slightest, you still find it weirdly endearing that Seokjin ran.

It’s proof that he’s utterly obsessed with your friend, much like she is obsessed with him, too.

“Well then let’s get in,” Nabi says, and you follow her inside the building, and then up to the apartment in and of itself. 

The door is unlocked when you get there, and you walk in, taking off your boots in the hall before making your way to the living room, where your friend group is all gathered already.

The first person you notice is Mikey, and he politely smiles at you as Ria throws herself at you and Nabi, hugging you both tight to her chest.

“Congrats on finishing your semester!” Ria says. 

You thank her, and she takes the drinks you’ve brought from your hands so that you can take off your coat, putting them down on the coffee table where all available alcohol is waiting for you all. And there’s a lot - you would think a lot more people are coming tonight, but it really is just the seven of you, and Jungkook later.

You reckon it’s just another sign that tonight will be one for the books.

You start the evening by ordering dumplings, and you grab one of the lemonade drinks as you wait for the food to arrive, sipping from it as you talk with all of your friends. Mikey remains silent by Yoongi’s side, though you notice the way they’re holding hands, and you smile at the sight.

Yoongi is shining. His eyes are sparkling like you’ve never seen them do before, and he looks like the sun personified with Mikey by his side. He deserves the happiness, every single ounce of it, especially after what Hoseok put him through.

For some reason the thought reminds you of your old friend, and you wonder how Hoseok is doing on his side of the country. Has he found the solace he was seeking for? Though you’d long hated him for the way he’d ghosted everyone, tonight you reckon you forgive him.

You forgive him for what he put Yoongi through, only because it allowed Yoongi to experience this relationship now, a much needed relationship that’s been healing every jagged piece of his heart.

Your phone buzzes in the pocket of the sweatshirt you’re wearing - Jungkook’s shirt - and you pull it out, immediately smiling when you see that Jungkook texted you.

[5:57 pm] JK: am tipsy

[5:57 pm] JK: can’t wait to see you later

You laugh at his text, replying quickly to make sure to drink water, and then you put your phone away, focusing on the conversation again.

“That’s just because you’re jealous I can make good music!” Yoongi is saying, and Namjoon rolls his eyes, though the laugh on his lips tells you that they aren’t truly fighting.

“You say you make good music but none of us has ever heard your music, Yoongi,” Ria says, finger pointing at him like she’s scolding him. 

“You’ve never showed them your music?” Mikey intervenes.

Yoongi blushes, eyes falling to the floor. “Well, uh, I just never had the occasion to…”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Namjoon says. “Pull out the receipts, Yoongi.”

Yoongi shakes his head, looking around for salvation. He meets your gaze, but you only shrug your shoulders, a mischievous smile on your lips. You’ve been curious about his music too, so you certainly won’t be the one to encourage him to hide it for longer.

“I hate y’all,” Yoongi grumbles.

“I mean, you don’t have to share if you don’t want to,” Mikey says next to him, resting a hand on Yoongi’s thigh as Yoongi grabs his phone.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Yoongi reassures him, and they look at each other for a few seconds.

It’s intimate, and you look down at your drink to give them privacy. A few seconds later, the living room fills with the intro of a song, and your gaze widens when the lyrics start, all in Korean. You don’t think Yoongi’s the one singing, and you’re proven right when a rapper comes in, and you recognize Yoongi’s voice.

“Bro, what?” Seokjin lets out.

“Shhh!” Nabi says, and Ria fake-glares at Seokjin, who just purses his lips, visibly holding a laugh in.

The song is good. More than that, the song is moving, the emotions running high all throughout it, up until the end, when the instruments all stop except the piano, giving a melancholy ending to the song.

“Yoongi!” you let out. “That shit is fire.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi says, his cheeks turning deep red.

Mikey is smiling next to him as everyone congratulates him, and before you have time to listen to more of his music, Namjoon receives a text saying that the food has arrived. He goes downstairs with Seokjin to bring everything up, and a minute later you’re all eating at the kitchen table, Ria sitting on Seokjin’s lap so that everyone can fit around the table.

The evening unfolds with more music that Yoongi composed, songs he claims he wants to put in an EP he’ll release next year. You’re reeling at the beauty of his talent, and though he still turns red every time someone compliments him, you know his smile means he appreciates it, and is probably relieved that you all enjoy his music. 

You reckon Mikey helps, encouraging Yoongi whenever he looks too embarrassed, and you’re so happy for your friend you feel like crying. Or maybe that’s because you’re on your fourth - fifth? - lemonade and the alcohol has started messing with your brain.

Time flies, and Jungkook texts you that he’s on his way while you’re playing Jackbox on the TV, the laughter so loud in the small living room that you’re convinced the boys might get a noise complaint by the end of the evening. You’re excited to see Jungkook, deadly so, and you decide to meet him downstairs, needing some fresh air anyway.

The snow is still falling outside when you make your way downstairs. The streetlights colour it in neon orange, and it covers the ground in a soft blanket. You wait in the hall of the building, watching the world outside and thinking about how everything has changed in a year.

If someone had told you a year ago that you’d be dating your brother’s best friend now, you would have told them that they were crazy. 

Now you know there’s nothing crazy about you and Jeon Jungkook. It just makes sense. 

Jungkook arrives sometime later - it’s hard to tell if it’s been a long time or not when your head is swimming in alcohol. He smiles brightly the second he sees you, opening the door to walk into your arms.

You hug him tight to your chest, hiding your face in his neck as his arms snake around your waist. He smells of home - you’ve realized he’s become your home now - and you relax in his embrace, letting him sway you from side to side gently.

“Hey there,” he greets you with his softest voice, the one that’s reserved just for you.

“Hey,” you reply. There’s a silence as you tighten your hold on him, and then you pull away to meet his gaze. “I’m drunk.”

He laughs, pecking your forehead. “I’m tipsy. But I drank lots of water like you said.”

You nod approvingly and then return your head to his neck. Unable to resist, you lightly bite at the skin, and Jungkook yelps, jumping out of your arms.

“What was that for!”

You eye him up and down. “You look yummy.”

He snorts, grabbing your hand to pull you in. “Oh, you’re drunk drunk.”

“I’m not!” you insist, though you’re fully aware that you are.

It’s not like it matters - you know Jungkook will take care of you.

And he does - he gets you water as soon as you get inside, your friends greeting him in a chorus of hellos. He waves at them, forces you to sit down with the glass of water, and you sip from it as he grabs the beer Namjoon offers him. 

Namjoon and Jungkook’s friendship has blossomed over the last two months. They’ve gotten really close, often hanging out just the two of them, which you think is adorable. They apparently have more in common than you thought, Namjoon coming from a rich family as well.

Nothing like Jungkook, but still.

Jungkook sits in front of you on the floor, and you immediately slide down from the couch to sit behind him so that he can lean against your chest. You wrap your arm around his dainty waist, smiling softly as you peck the top of his head.

He glances at you, eyes gleaming with happiness, and then resumes his conversation with Namjoon.

This, you think, is happiness. This is the kind of scene you see in movies when everything is resolved after a long journey. It’s a coming of age - your coming of age, despite the fact that you aren’t a teenager anymore. 

You just know that, when you’ll be old and grey and reminding yourself of your college days, this is what you’ll think of. Jungkook’s presence amongst your friends, the gentle ambiance of the snow outside, the smiles and the laughter and the music filling the air. Everything - you’ll remember everything with vivid clarity when it’s time to go, knowing that this moment, and all of those related to Jungkook and your friend group, have forged the person that you’ll become.

The thought brings tears to your eyes - happy tears - and you blink them away as you hug Jungkook tighter. He looks back at you again, smiling softly, light filling those big doe eyes of his that you’ve been in love with since a certain power outage.

To think that your whole relationship with him started because of that outage - where would you be now if it hadn’t been for that?

“What?” Jungkook asks softly. 

“I love you,” you reply.

He grins, that adorable bunny grin of his that steals your breath each time. “I love you too.”

You know it - it’s been a law of your universe since you ran back home that October night, when you realized that your love for him was far more important than your brother being upset with him.

In truth, you think your love for Jeon Jungkook might have been the reason why you were put on this Earth - your purpose, if you will. Like the Fates weaved your story with his, until one can’t exist without the other.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tuesday, December 24th

Christmas Eve has been fun. You’ve been laughing around with Taehyung, Ariane, Jungkook and your mother, sharing way too much food at the dinner table. Good food - your mother has always been a good cook, whenever she finds the time to actually come up with a meal. Jungkook helped her too, and you haven’t missed the approving glances your mother has been throwing him all evening.

Ariane has received her good shares of those too. You can tell your mother is happy for both you and Taehyung, which makes you feel bad that you initially thought it was good that she’s currently single.

She deserves love, too.

You’re in the bathroom, sometime after midnight, mind swimming with the eggnog drinks that your mother made for everyone, when your phone buzzes in the back pocket of the mom jeans you’re wearing. You pull it out, blinking a few times, and your gaze widens when you focus on the text message you’ve received.

Mostly, your heart falls to your ass when you see who texted you.

[00:24 am] Hobi: hey, merry christmas! just wanted to text to apologize for dipping in april? that sucked of me and yeah, it’s christmas so i thought it was a good time to apologize

You reread the message a few times, wondering if you’re the only one that’s received an apology. You highly doubt you’re the one that needed it after all, and when your phone buzzes again a few seconds later, with a text from Yoongi, you realize you’re not.

[00:24 am] Yoongi: you’ll never believe who just texted me

You slide your phone open, ignoring the conversation with Hoseok to head straight to the one with Yoongi. You type your reply, worrying at your bottom lip as you send it.

[00:25 am] You: i know the fuck he texted me too

[00:25 am] You: how are you feeling?

Yoongi doesn’t reply right away, and you decide not to reply to Hoseok either, instead stuffing your phone back in your back pocket before washing your hands. You return to the kitchen after, where everyone’s been waiting for you to play your turn in the game of Ticket to Ride you’ve started at midnight.

You can’t believe Hoseok texted you. It feels like a ghost coming back to haunt you, reminding you that you’d been friends with benefits, albeit on a break, this time last year. Perhaps that is why Hoseok chose to text you too - you meant something to him to a certain extent.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook asks as you frown, trying to remember what it is you wanted to do in the game.

You blink once, meeting his gaze. “Yeah.” You nod, repeating the word, and then you pick up two green wagon cards.

Jungkook lets it slide, focusing on the game too, and you all but forget about Hoseok’s text when your mother gives you another eggnog drink. You finish the game a little while later - Ariane winning grandiosely - and then you all head to bed after wishing each other a last Merry Christmas.

Jungkook plops down on your childhood bed as you walk into your room, and you close the door, leaning against it as you smile fondly. He props his chin on his hands, looking at you. 

“Tonight was fun,” he says.

You nod, smile growing wider. “It really was. But wait until tomorrow, that’s where all the fun is.”

Indeed, you’re going to visit your grandparents’ house tomorrow evening, along with all of your uncles and aunts and cousins.  It’s tradition every year, and it’s the first time you’re bringing someone. You’d be a little anxious, if not for the fact that you know your grandmother is already obsessed with Jungkook from everything your mother told her.

“I can’t wait,” Jungkook says, and the soft curve of his lips tells you he means it.

You cross the distance between you, lying down on the bed next to him. Jungkook shifts, opening his arms for you to slide into his embrace, and he holds you tight, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

“I mostly can’t wait to give you your gift tomorrow morning,” he adds, his mouth moving against you. He pulls away, rubbing his face to take out from his mouth the hair he clearly almost swallowed from talking against your head. “You’ll be so happy.”

“You really didn’t need to give me a gift,” you say.

“You think I haven’t noticed the suspiciously large box with my name on it under the Christmas tree?”

You shrug. “Maybe it’s from Taehyung.”

“It’s written from peach.”

You snort, laughing against his chest. “And what about it?”

“You’re allowed to get me a gift but I can’t get you one?”

You nod forcefully. “Yeah. You already got me that dress anyway.”

He laughs, rolling on his back. He pulls you with him until you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest. “That was almost a year ago, it doesn’t count.”

“It does,” you mumble.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling deeply in his chest. “You’re adorable, I love you.” He pecks the top of your head again. “Besides, what did you get me?”

“What did you get me?” you ask, gaze narrowed as you look up at him.

His next peck lands on your forehead. “Not telling you.”

“Well then, I’m not telling you either,” you smugly reply.

He laughs, tightening his hold around you. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

Your heart stops in your chest, and then it starts again on a wilder beat you hear echoed behind his ribcage.

“I love you too, Kook.”

“Luckiest man alive,” he whispers, and it’s rhetorical, not asking for a reply. 

All you do is grin as you start tracing idle shapes on his stomach. You fall silent - the kind of comfortable silence you can only share with him - up until you remember Hoseok’s text. It makes you prop yourself up on an elbow, and you meet Jungkook’s gaze.

“You’ll never guess who texted me earlier.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Who did?” 

“Hobi,” you reveal.

Jungkook’s gaze widens. “The guy you used to fuck?”

You roll your eyes, pinching his side. “Yes. But mostly Yoongi’s… ex?”

“You did use to fuck though, I heard you guys.”

“Oh my God, Kook.”

He offers you a shit-eating grin. “What?”

“You’re annoying.”

He pulls you on top of him until you’re straddling him. “But you love me.”

You narrow your eyes, glaring at him. “But you’re annoying.”

His hands, now on your hips, tighten slightly, and your brain chooses this instant to zero in on the spot.

“Do you know how much it drove me crazy?” he says, and his voice is suddenly low, husky, shooting warmth right to your core. “I fucking wanted to beat his ass.”

You cock an eyebrow, tilting your head to the side as a smirk appears on your lips. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.” He forces you to circle your hips, and you’re not surprised to find him already getting hard. “I’d imagine it was me instead.” It’s Jungkook’s turn to smirk, and he sits up to kiss you, his tongue pushing into your mouth once before he lies back down. “And then when I was fucking Shelly and you were touching yourself?”

You’re turning molten, like you’re metal melting in a forge. “Yeah?”

“That’s when I knew that whatever I’d promised to Tae didn’t matter anymore.” He grinds into you. “I needed to have you, one way or another.”

You crash your lips on his so hard you taste blood. He’s quick to slide his hands under your shirt, and he fumbles with the fabric until you part to allow him to take it off your body. You’re only wearing a red bralette you bought before finals, and Jungkook’s gaze darkens at the sight.

“Shit peach, you’re always so fucking hot.”

“One way or another, you say?” you repeat what he said earlier.

He looks confused for a heartbeat, and then he nods. “Yeah. I was into you already then, as you know, but damn every time I touched myself all I could think about was you.”

“Outrageous,” you tease as you circle your hips once more.

He grunts softly. “Oh, peach, don’t pretend you weren’t thinking of me too.”

You lean forward, sucking on his lower lip, your tongue then flicking at his piercings. “Oh, you know I was thinking about you,” you say against his mouth.

You move down enough to find his neck, your teeth teasing the skin before you suck on it, yet you refrain from leaving a mark.

You don’t want your mother asking questions tomorrow.

Jungkook grunts as you lick at the spot, and then move back up to nibble at his jaw. His large hands on your waist caress up your flanks until he reaches your breasts that he shamelessly cups, his fingers immediately searching for your nipples. He pinches them, hard enough to hurt, and you moan out loud, hiding your face in his neck.

“Careful, peach,” Jungkook warns. “We wouldn’t want your family hearing us.”

You bite at his neck again and he hisses. “What did you just say?”

“Fuck,” he groans, and it sounds like a growl. “Now I want to fucking ruin you.”

You straighten, your hands landing flat on his chest to hold him down. “Why don’t you let me have my fun tonight?”

His dark gaze surveys you carefully as you climb down his body until you’re sitting on his legs. You grip his thighs and then slide your hands up to his clothed erection. You run a hand along it and then move up to push his shirt up, revealing the strong muscles of his abdomen. You graze them with your nails, and Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut as your other hand returns to his dick.

“How should I please you tonight?” you ask.

You lean forward and, unable to resist, you suck a hickey on the spot right above the hem of his pants. Jungkook instinctively bucks his hips in response, and you smirk as you sit back on your heels again.

“Someone’s impatient,” you tease.

“Peach…” he warns.

“Be nice,” you say. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

He takes a sharp breath, and then nods curtly. You bite at your lower lip, a smirk teasing the corner of your lips.

“Good boy.”

He groans, but then you’re ridding him of his pants and boxers, and his dick springs free, slapping his abs. He looks just as pretty as he always does, the large vein running up his dick begging to be licked. You don’t even resist - you immediately bend down, tracing it with your tongue up to his tip, which you circle once before pulling away just enough to grab the base of his dick.

You stroke him slowly, meeting his gaze. His cheeks are flushed with arousal, eyes shining with lust and desire, all of it for you. You feel powerful - you have him wrapped around your finger, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’s with that thought that you finally take him in your mouth, not breaking eye contact. He clenches his jaw to hold a moan in, and you take him as deep as you can, your eyes watering when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath.

You pull almost all the way out, hollowing your cheeks as you suck on his tip, teasing his frenulum with your tongue. His dick twitches, but you’re holding him tight, keeping him in place.

You get to work, bobbing up and down, drooling all over him. You use your drool as natural lube so that you can jerk him off in time with your motions, and Jungkook grows infinitely hard in your mouth, so much so that you wouldn’t be surprised if he came.

You wouldn’t mind - he always tastes good for you, and the thought of it is making you soak through your panties to the point you think your pants might even be affected. But then again, Jungkook always makes you so wet.

No one’s ever fucked you as good as him after all.

You take him all the way in, and Jungkook thrusts up, grunting as you moan around him. His hands are in your hair, and he’s been guiding your movements, though always allowing you to pull away to breathe when you need it.

So when you decide to pull away so that you can suck on his balls, he lets you do it. You reward him by jerking him off quickly, your grip tight on his dick just the way you know he likes, and he fists at the sheets of your bed, fucking into your hand.

Right before you think he’s about to come, Jungkook pulls you away. He’s panting heavily, and you barely have time to breathe before he flips you on your back, climbing on top of you so that he can kiss you. 

The kiss is ravishing, languid, all tongues and saliva and his teeth digging into your bottom lip. You barely can contain your moans when he drives your legs apart with a knee he then presses on your clothed core, and you can’t help but grind on his leg, searching for much-needed friction.

Jungkook leaves your mouth to leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck, and then on your clavicle. He sucks a purple mark underneath it, and you arch your back in his touch as he cups your breasts again, massaging them.

“Peach,” he says as he’s looking at your necklace where it lies between your breasts. “You’re so perfect.”

And then he’s pushing your bralette up enough to have access to your nipples. His mouth closes around one while he pinches the other between his thumb and index, and you lose your hand in his jet-black strands, pulling on his hair just a little by reflex.

His tongue circles your nipple, and then he licks at it twice. It hardens in his mouth as you hold your moans in, and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he shifts to your other nipple, offering it the same treatment.

“Take this off,” you breathe, pulling at the fabric of his shirt.

Jungkook raises his head, meeting your gaze. His lips are glistening with his saliva, and he looks so devilish you think you’d be able to come just like that.

“Take it off for me,” he teases.

You roll your eyes despite your lips curving in a smile, and you pull his shirt off, throwing it on the floor. You rake your nails on his back - lightly, not hard enough to leave a mark - when he returns to your nipples, devouring your breasts like a man starved.

“I fucking love every part of you, you know that right?” he says when he pulls away.

You nod, but he’s already going down your body, reaching for your pants. He takes them off, and to your surprise, he takes your panties off too, leaving you naked and gleaming when he pushes your thighs apart to look at you properly.

“So pretty…” he praises.

You want to tell him to fuck you, that you don’t even need foreplay right now - you’ve been feeling your juices dripping out of your pussy for a while - but he doesn’t leave you time to speak, immediately diving in, lapping a large stripe from your entrance up to your clit. He swirls his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves, and you put your hand over your mouth to muffle your moan.

“Silence, peach,” he reminds you, and then he circles your clit again. “I really don’t want your mother to look at me differently tomorrow morning.”

You don’t have anything left in your brain to say that she wouldn’t care, and maybe that’s good - you’re pretty sure she would, as a matter of fact, care.

“Sorry,” you apologize.

Jungkook shoots you a quick glance, and he pecks the inside of your thigh lovingly, miles away from the lust transpiring from this moment. “I love you,” he breathes against your skin, and then he’s back on your pussy.

He eats you out like he’s a demon come from hell, and soon enough he pushes two fingers inside of you, fighting against your tightening muscles. You take a deep breath to relax, and a few seconds later he arches his fingers, rubbing them on the most sensitive spot inside of you. It makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your mouth falls open on a silent moan as he starts fingering you, quick and hard, always rubbing your g-spot. He times his fingers with his tongue, and it’s no wonder he’s dragging you towards an orgasm at eighty miles per hour.

It’s no wonder it hits you like a slap to the face when he sucks on your clit hard, and your thighs close around his face as your back arches off the bed, your climax hitting so hard you feel like you’re swimming in the night sky, amongst stars and galaxies and nebulas.

You’re shaking, thighs trembling, as he milks your orgasm out for so long you think you’ll die, but eventually his fingers leave your pulsing walls, and he licks them clean. You watch him, your eyelids heavy with the ecstasy invading your bloodstream, and you feel fucked out, your mind like cotton as he positions himself between your legs.

“Have you had enough?” he asks, teasing your entrance with his cock. “Or do you want me to fuck you?”

You reach for him, fingers grazing his chest and abs. “Shit, Kook.”

He grins wickedly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you repeat. You chuckle lightly, and then you glance around. “I do want you to fuck me,” you whisper, “but my bed creaks a hell of a lot.”

Jungkook shrugs, picking you up in one swift motion that makes your mind swim even more. The room spins around you as Jungkook carries you off the bed, and then he sits you on the floor. He grabs a bunch of pillows, arranging them in a makeshift bed on the floor, and then he motions at it, a proud smile on his lips.

“Voilà,” he says.

You snort. “You’ll fuck me on this?”

He smirks, picking you up to lie you down on the pillows. It’s a little unsteady, but when he positions himself between your legs again, you forget all about it.

Even more so as he rubs his dick on your clit, and meteorites erupt in front of your eyes.

“Yeah I will,” he says. “Unless you don’t want me to?”

You gulp, your throat suddenly dry with arousal, and you nod your head. “Fuck me, Kook.”

He doesn’t need more to push in, and he sheathes all of himself inside of you. Or at least all that fits, and he’s quick to put a hand over your mouth to keep you from moaning. You bite at his palm, and he startles, moving his hand away.

“That was mean,” he says, a pout appearing on his swollen lips.

Fuck, you love him so bad.

“Sorry,” you apologize.

He narrows his gaze, bending down to steal a quick, gentle kiss on your lips. “No you’re not,” he says.

“I’m not,” you agree.

He pulls almost all the way out, leaving just an inch of him in. “And for that reason, I’ll fuck you until all you remember is my name.”

He pushes all the way in again, and you bite your lip to refrain from crying his name out. It becomes much harder when he starts pounding into you, and soon your room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, and of the squelching your pussy makes every time he fucks into you. It’s clearly loud enough for everyone in the apartment to hear, but faint music is coming from Taehyung’s room, and you know your mother sleeps with foam earplugs in.

You can only hope they don’t hear you when you moan Jungkook’s name. He gently rests his hand against your mouth again then, though he’s quick to push a finger in instead. You suck on it, teasing the pad with your tongue, and Jungkook grunts as he jack-hammers you, so much so you fall off the makeshift bed.

You both don’t care - you don’t even think Jungkook realizes. He’s too busy rearranging your gut, and you’re too busy trying to not moan like you want to do. Jungkook keeps at it for a while, strands of hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, but his pace remains unforgiving, a reminder that he has a solid cardio from all the hours he spends at the gym.

Eventually, Jungkook gets bored of the position, and he pulls out. You get a glimpse of his wet dick before he flips you on your stomach, and he’s quick to fuck into you again, the new angle so good you feel like you’re floating somewhere between your body and the ceiling.

His forearm is next to your head, and you hold onto his wrist as he pounds into you. You know he’s nearing his high when his motions grow unfocused, slower, and soon he bends down, grunting against the side of your face as he releases his load deep inside of you, painting you white.

You hold onto him as he comes, circling your hips to prolong his pleasure, up until he stops you with a hand on your waist. He pecks the side of your face, and you turn your head to be able to kiss him properly. It tastes like the sweat that’s collected on his upper lip, but you don’t care. Not when it’s his sweat, and you are so obsessed with him you wish you were under his skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts when he pulls away from the kiss. 

He pecks your cheek again and then straightens to search for something to clean you up with. He reaches for the tissues on the night table, and he takes a bunch of them that he puts against you before he even pulls out.

You both manage to avoid making a mess, and Jungkook lets you go clean up first. You put on his shirt, as it’s long enough to be a dress on you, and then you head to the bathroom, where you take a quick shower. Jungkook goes next, kissing you deeply before leaving your room, and you wait for him under the covers of your bed, your heart still beating wildly from the sex.

As it always does when it comes to sex with Jungkook.

Jungkook comes back about five minutes later, and he slides under the covers with you as you’re on your phone, looking at the conversation with Yoongi.

He still hasn’t replied, and though that worries you, you know he’s probably just busy with his own Christmas celebration.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook asks as he molds himself to your back, an arm wrapping around your waist.

You turn on your back, going in for a soft kiss that settles your heartbeat in your chest. 

“Yes,” you reassure him. 

You glance at your phone again and then switch to the conversation with Hoseok. “I don’t know what I should say.”

Jungkook blinks a few times like he needs it to focus on your screen, and then he reads Hoseok’s message. “I mean…” he lets out. “He seems genuine.”

“I know, but it’s weird no?”

Jungkook purses his lips. “Why?”

“Because I’m with you now,” you explain.

His eyes widen. “Oh, is that because of what I said earlier?”

You nod, worrying at some dry skin on your lower lip.

“Oh, peach,” he says, and he pecks your forehead. “I really don’t mind if you want to reply. I was only teasing earlier.”

You cock an eyebrow, not entirely believing him. He smiles sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders.

“Were you?”

“Well…” he trails off, turning on his back as he looks up at the ceiling. “I was jealous, yes. But as you said, he mostly is Yoongi’s ex. What you guys had hasn’t mattered for a really long time.”

He’s right. He’s entirely right, and it reassures you, enough so that you don’t feel guilty for replying to Hoseok, right before you decide to turn off your phone for the night.

[2:37 am] You: hey merry christmas! no worries:)

You put your phone away, and then you turn to face Jungkook, wrapping your arm around his dainty waist as he wraps his around you, one of his biceps a perfect pillow for your head. You sigh in contentment, knowing that you are right where you’re supposed to be in the world - by Jungkook’s side. 

Home, wherever he is.

You fall asleep with love in your heart, shining bright on you despite the dark, winter night outside.  

Monday, December 30th

The restaurant is crowded, lively chatter and clinking utensils filling the atmosphere with the type of life only the holidays can provide. Taehyung sits at the head of the table, a bright smile on his lips as your mother explains to Ariane and Jungkook how you come to this restaurant each year when there’s a special occasion.

By that, she means your and Taehyung’s birthdays, as you spend hers on the camping trip.

“We started when you were what?” your mother says, looking at Taehyung. “Fourteen?”

“Thirteen,” he answers. “We came with a bunch of friends from middle school, and Y/n was complaining the whole time.”

“I was not,” you say, pouting slightly. “You were just ignoring me the whole time because I wasn’t cool enough.”

“You really weren’t.” Taehyung’s teasing remark earns him a slap on the arm from your mother, and Ariane telling him to shut up. “What! She was just obsessed with One Direction, it was annoying.”

“And what about it?” Ariane says. “One Direction was a good group!”

Horror inches into Taehyung’s gaze. “Not you too.”

Ariane rolls her eyes, but then the waitress stops by your table, taking everyone’s order. An easy conversation follows, your mother telling you about interesting cases she saw at the ER over the last few months. Jungkook looks appalled when she mentions certain of them, his eyes about to bulge out of his head.

“You’re good?” you let out, patting his thigh reassuringly. 

“We’re supposed to eat after she’s told us all of that?” he asks, his widened gaze sliding to you.

You snort. “Yes, we are.”

He sits back in his chair, folding his arms on his chest. “Damn.” You just laugh even more, and he looks at you again. “It’s not funny!”

“It is,” you insist. “You’re adorable.”

He glares at you, though his eyes are gleaming with too much amusement for you to believe he means it. “So are you.”

“Right right,” you say, at the same time as Taehyung fake-gags. 

“You guys are disgusting,” your brother says. 

“And you think you’re better?” your mother intervenes. “You all should listen to him when he calls me and gushes about Ariane.”

Taehyung flushes red as Ariane leans towards your mother. “Oh? What does he say?”

“Namely that he thinks you’re the love of his life, and that he wants to marry…”

“Stop!” Taehyung interjects. “Fuck, mom, this is not necessary.”

He’s so red he looks like he might pass out, and you can’t help but laugh at his expense. “Don’t worry, Ari, he’s always been a hopeless romantic.”

“I’m not!”

Ariane laughs, and she rubs his back. “You are. I love that about you.”

Taehyung’s distressed features turn into a soft smile, and you roll your eyes teasingly. 

The rest of the dinner goes well, all of you eating your fill. Jungkook finishes your dish when you declare yourself defeated, and you speak with your brother without any animosity for the first time in months.

It’s relieving, far more than you would admit it. Or perhaps it’s because he’s invited you to the party one of his childhood friends is hosting, which he never did before. You know it’s because Jungkook is his closest friend now, but you still appreciate the invitation, and the party that comes with it.

Taehyung’s always partied the hardest surrounded by his friends, and tonight is no different. It’s a night of drinking and revelry and bright smiles, loud music to accompany the chatter and drinking games and everything that makes a party a good party. There’s a hot tub, and you and Jungkook spend far too long in it accompanied by Ariane, Taehyung and two of his other friends, taking turns rolling in the snow before jumping back into the hot tub.

The stars shine on and on above you all, and though it’s freezing outside you think they might allow you a piece of summer in the winter night.

You head home before Taehyung, walking hand in hand with Jungkook. You’re both tipsy, even maybe a little drunk, yet it doesn’t deter you. Not when the night is beautiful, and you have Jungkook next to you.

“I still can’t believe you got me that frame,” Jungkook says as he notices you looking up at the stars, your eyes going over the Orion constellation.

Indeed, you got him a star map of Valentine’s Day last year for Christmas. It’s beautiful, and Jungkook grew teary-eyed when you gave it to him, telling him that it was a map of the night you’d fallen in love. He promised he’d hang it in his room the second you returned to your apartment, and then he sheepishly gave you your gift.

Your reaction to his gift was… much less wholesome than his. You were outraged, telling him that he was crazy to spend so much money on you, and Jungkook just shrugged his shoulders, telling you you deserved it.

You still think he’s crazy. But over the last few days, he’s slowly convinced you that it’s going to be fun, that you truly do deserve the gift…

And who would say no to a trip to Bora Bora?

“I’m sorry,” you let out. “You fucking bought first-class plane tickets to go to Bora Bora. My gift looks like nothing compared to yours.”

“It’s not nothing!” Jungkook insists. “It’s the most sentimental gift I’ve ever received.” He smiles at you, his big doe eyes swimming with love for you. “It’ll forever be my favourite gift.”

You can’t help the smile that curves your lips upwards as your heart warms in your chest. “You deserve it,” you say, and you mean it.

Jungkook deserves every proof that people do love him. That his parents don’t know shit when it comes to him - you’ll try your best to shower him with all of the love your heart holds, every day of your life with him.

“And you deserve the trip,” Jungkook says. “You always work so hard in college, I just want you to relax for a while.”

“With you,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief. 

“Obviously.”

He pulls you in, interrupting your walk, and he kisses your forehead softly. Your heart grows even warmer, so much so that you think flowers are blooming in your soul, like a garden bursting into life.

You get home together with him, your mother seemingly fast asleep in her room from the soft snores that come from behind her door. You make your way to your room, and Jungkook plugs in your old fairy lights, even though they’re so dim now you barely can make out anything.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says as he sits on your bed.

You sit next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “What for?”

“For everything,” he replies, and he wraps his arms around you to pull you into his chest. “Getting to love you is the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“Oh, Jungkook…” you trail off, looking up to see the silver lining his gaze.

“I love you more every day, peach,” he whispers. “It’s… it’s a gift.”

You cup his cheek, tilting your head backwards as you pull him down. The kiss is soft, gentle. The kiss is everything that makes Jungkook Jungkook, and you you. It’s the months of struggle that led to so much beauty, it’s the knowledge that, wherever you’ll go in this life, he’ll be by your side.

It’s the knowledge that he’s the one for you, and you’re the one for him.

When you pull away from the kiss, what seems like an eternity later, Jungkook pulls out his phone from his pocket. You watch him curiously as the device lights up his features, and a second later, your room fills with the first chord of Chasing Cars.

Of your song.

“Cuddle?” Jungkook asks.

You can’t say no to those big, doe eyes, and you lie down with him, your head on his chest.

“You know,” Jungkook says when the first chorus starts. “Ever since you showed me this song, it’s been my favourite.” He pauses, pecks the top of your head. “Not that I didn’t know it before. But it makes me think of you now.”

Just like it makes you think of him.

“It does?” you let out.

You feel him nod more than you see him. “When I marry you, I want it to be the song we dance to.”

Your gaze widens, and you prop yourself up on an elbow so that you can look at him. And despite the dim light in your room, despite the blurriness in your gaze from the happy tears he summoned, his beauty shines for you. So bright, a proof that he’s the Sun in your life.

He’s the astral body you were meant to orbit.

“When you marry me?”

His arm tightens around you. “Yes, when I marry you.”

You smile, brighter than a summer day. “You’ll be my husband.”

“And you’ll be my wife.”

You laugh, a crystal clear sound that heals whatever wounds were left from the months apart. From that night Taehyung punched him and kicked him out. From every time you thought that your timing didn’t align and that maybe you weren’t meant to be in this universe.

But you are. You’ve always been meant to be, haven’t you?

“Let’s start by calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend, shall we?”

He pouts. “M’kay, then. Girlfriend.”

Another laugh tumbles from your lips, and you put your head back on his shoulder. He runs a soothing hand on your back, while you trace random shapes on his chest, and you think this is it.

This is a moment that will be forever engraved in your memory, to look back on whenever you have a bad day. A first moment - though it’s hardly the first - of a long line of events that will make up the story of you and Jeon Jungkook.

The song reaches its last chorus, and your heart, beating in sync with Jungkook’s, reaches the nirvana of you and him.

If I lay here 

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me, and just forget the world?

And you think, perhaps your story was already written in between the lines of your favourite song - a story of resilient love, and of promises of forever. Perhaps it was written between the first verse and the chorus, or perhaps it was written in the melody. It’s hard to tell - you just know it’s become a law of your universe. 

Now, you’ll lie with Jungkook, and maybe you’ll even forget the world. It’ll just be him, forever.

And you’ll spend the rest of your life chasing cars around his head.

Prev

☆☆☆☆☆

I am so emotional please do not touch me :') I can't believe this story is over. I hope you guys loved the ride - let me know what you think about this last chapter <3

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

[ggidolsmuts]

Good Girls in the Dark - Choi Yena

"Hello, I'm Choi Yena, nice to meet you!"

"Omo son why didn't you tell us your girlfriend is so pretty?! Come in come in!" Your mom quickly leads Yena into your home, who's already locking arms with her. "Finally you bring someone back for Chuseok!" she looks back at you and admonishes. You simply shake your head and follow them in.

"You look so young, I thought you were oppa's sister!"

"Oh stop it, you have such a sweet tongue!" 

Yena's a good girl.

At least, that was your initial impression when you met her for the first time—it was supposed to be a Yuehua flex, having Yena drop by to say hi, to congratulate everyone on the successful joint project between Yuehua and your company. Mindful and demure, she was considerate of everyone, smiling and greeting all of you like the energetic idol she is.

True to her energy, she insisted you all go to a club for the afterparty, but the group soon diffuses into the crowd—some people left almost immediately, others stayed for a few drinks, and yet more broke off into their cliques. You try to sneak out too, until Yena somehow gets a hold of you, pulling you into a dark corner of the club. She has a drink in hand, but by now it is empty save for a few drops of whatever she had.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" she demands to know.

"What? I haven't!"

"Don't lie, I saw you sneaking looks." You were, but you didn't think Yena would notice, that you would just blend in with your co-workers.

"How would you know?" you fire back.

"Because I've been looking at you too." It must be the alcohol in Yena talking, for she smashes her lips into yours, tongue immediately pushing into your mouth. She does have a sweet tongue. "Can I trust you?"

"You should have asked me that before you kissed me."

"Oops, oh well. Now answer the question."

"Yes."

"Good, I don't want to go home tonight," she breathes into your ear.

Yena's a good girl in the dark.

"So how did you two meet?" your dad asks during dinner.

"At work! I was at an event for our company, and he was there! He was very nice to me."

"That's all it took? My son is good!"

"Dad don't," you mutter, shaking your head and leaving the table carrying your dishes. At least Yena didn't say it started with a hookup, or your parents would have had an aneurysm. The one night stands became more frequent, and your apartment became a place for stress relief for Yena.

Over time the two of you ended up spending equal amounts of time talking and fucking, and both of you finally gathered the courage to give in to your feelings and agree to start dating—to be fair, neither of you were seeing anyone else anyways, so exclusivity wasn't a discussion that needed to be had. Ironically the dating aspect wasn't really a thing either—Yena was an idol, so any dates you two had were just at your place.

"What? Our son is so charming, he found a celebrity girlfriend! And she eats so much too, I thought you would be dieting or something, I was afraid I made too much!" you hear your mum say.

"No no, that's just a stereotype, I eat more than he does!"

"That's great, you eat so well!"

Yena's a good girl.

~~

"Fuck, you eat me so well," you moan as Yena slurps you, tongue running up the underside of your shaft. It's early in the morning, the sunlight just peeking through the curtains. You can barely make out the shape of Yena in your sleepy haze, but you can definitely identify her by her tongue and hands.

"Because your cum is so delicious!" she says as she strokes you, eager for her morning cum-ffee. "I can see some of it already!" She licks your tip, swiping up the dripping precum. Yena's hungry for more, and she goes deep on your cock, taking all of it in easily. The loud sloppy noises she makes are the lewdest alarm sounds you've ever heard, and your favorite by far.

"Oh fuck, Yena, I'm gonna cum!" There is no holding back your orgasm, and your hand finds itself in her hair, pushing her down like she was an alarm clock. You thrust up involuntarily, and Yena hums as you hit the roof of her mouth, feeling you surrender in the form of a thick morning load sliding down her throat. Yena's eyeing you as you come down from your peak, making sure you're fully drained before she let's you go with a pop.

"Thanks, I gotta go now."

"Wait, I need something for the morning too no?" You wiggle your eyebrows and Yena laughs.

"I suppose I can spare a few minutes," she sighs theatrically and slides up your body. You expect her to remove her pants and underwear, but she's already naked from the waist down.

"Tch, you were expecting it weren't you?"

"I knew you would repay the favor." She pushes herself onto your face.

Yena's a good girl in the dark.

~~

"Auntie, do you need help with the dishes?"

"Oh no no no you're the guest, you can't be helping with the dishes!"

"I don't mind, besides it makes the dishes go by faster!"

"You see son, why can't you be more like Yena?"

"I live by myself, I do the dishes back home already!"

"I don't care, come help us with the dishes or else!" your mom threatens.

"Fine."

"God it's like I have to beg you to do the dishes, at least Yena's so polite and well-mannered, offering to help!"

Yena's a good girl.

~~

"Please sir."

"What do you want me to do Yena?" you ask the naked idol bent over your lap.

"Spank me."

"What's the magic word?"

"Please spank me." You reward her with a hearty slap across her ass, watching it jiggle and turn red. Yena yelps before thanking you.

"Good." You rub her cheek to soothe her before slipping your hand between her legs—she's dripping. Carelessly you run a finger along her pussy, letting her wetness coat it before wiping it on her. Yena squirms, and you wrap an arm around her midriff, holding her flush against your body, trapping her. Yena takes a deep breath and relaxes, going limp briefly.

"T-Thank you." It made her feel taken care of—she can let her mind go blank, let the pleasure take over, leave everything to you. But you tease her, rubbing her slit as you stroke her head, petting her like you pet a cat, or a duck perhaps. All while she can feel your erection poking her from below. Yena's little gasps and moans get louder and more frequent, breathing heavily over your lap as you continue.

"Please put it in." You push two fingers in, and Yena clenches immediately around them. You push Yena forward on your lap, bending her over one thigh to give you better access to her pussy. Yena's almost folded in half over your leg, blood rushing to her head as she watches her own toes curl uncontrollably due to your fingering. You dig deep, bending and twisting your fingers, as if trying to find the last cookie crumb deep inside Yena's jar. You do find what you're looking for, and Yena's the cookie that crumbles.

"R-Right there!" Beneath you Yena's face is red, both from pleasure, and from the little droplets she sees appearing between her legs. "Wait oppa, I'm going to make a mess—"

"Oppa?"

"I mean, ah! Sir, sorry sir, wait, stop!" You dig a little harder, a little faster, and it becomes a stream of liquid pleasure, leaking down her leg and dripping off Yena's toes.

"Manners Yena."

"Puhlea—" Before she can get the second syllable fully out you press her sensitive clit with your thumb and Yena chokes out a desperate cry, drenching your hand in her slick as she cums hard. Yena claws at your leg, gripping it tightly while she splashes over you. You help Yena right herself, but her legs are weak, and she sits in a puddle of her own juices as she lays her head on your thigh, breathing shallow and labored. You lay a hand on her cheek, and she turns to kiss it, as if soothing herself on you. When she opens her eyes again she looks up at you, before looking to the tent you're pitching in your pants.

"I want you," she whispers, managing to push herself up and pull your shorts off. Her hands go to your boxers, but you stop her.

"Are you forgetting something?"

"Please." Yena says it like an afterthought, removing your boxers and getting in your lap—her slick covered legs are spreading it everywhere on your couch. She tries to sink herself on to you, but you shift your hips, making her miss. "Come on!"

"Say it like you mean it."

"Please, I need you in me." She grabs your cock, her hands wrapping around your length. "I need something thick in me, my pussy needs something to... grip!" She twists her hands, squeezing you tightly. You let her position you at her entrance, and your cock twitches a little as a few more drops of slick land on your shaft.

"Please give me your cock," Yena whispers before kissing you needily.

You slam her down on you.

"Oh fuck!"

Yena's a good girl in the dark.

~~

"Yena do you drink? Are you allowed to?"

"Oh yes of course we are allowed to, I'll have whatever oppa has."

"Okay I'll go get the beer."

"No dear, get the ginseng wine."

"Should I?" Your dad nods emphatically.

"We're all becoming one family here, we can break out the good stuff and celebrate!" You know exactly where this is going as your mum brings the wine.

"Dad no don't do that!" You grab Yena's hand in apology. "Sorry."

"No no, I'm sure Yena doesn't mind! All we're saying, your mum and I, is that we would approve of whatever you two want to do in the future. Get married, have kids, you know, whatever you want!"

"It's okay uncle, I understand, thank you for being so nice to me and making me feel so welcome! We haven't really talked about our future, but it's good to know we have your support!"

"Good, see, that's a sensible young woman! Cheers!"

Yena's a good girl.

The operative word there is "really", because you two have certainly talked about your future together.

In bed.

In the heat of the moment.

While you're deep in Yena.

~~

"How many kids should I put in you, how many do you want!" you grunt as you thrust down into her, feeling her clench around you in response. Yena's legs push uselessly against your arms, your elbows locking her knees down in a mating press.

"As many as you want, fuck! That's so deep!" Her arms have a stranglehold around your neck, keeping you close, her flexibility allowing you to kiss her even as you fuck her in the uncompromising position. Yena's tits jiggle as you pound into her, a lewd visual of just how hard you're thrusting.

"B-Breed me, breed me harder!" It was a kink that Yena let slip once, and since then you've indulged her, joining her in enjoying the thought, relishing the feel of fucking Yena raw each and every time.

"Fuck I'm going to cum, you better keep count!" you shout as you slam down into her with finality, letting loose multiple shots into her. Yena seems to go over the edge with you, clenching around your pulsing cock, lips mumbling incoherently. You collapse on top of her, burying yourself against her neck, kissing her lovingly and cuddling her. It is a little later before either of you are able to speak.

"Five, I counted five shots earlier," she murmurs into your ear, tickling you.

"That many?"

"Mmhmm, I must have drained a lot out of you, hm? Poor oppa." Yena jokes, pinching your cheek. But she pushes you on your back and gets on top of you. The sight of your load leaking out of her is enough to get you to half-mast, and her words get you the rest of the way there.

"Let me do the rest of the work. We have to contribute equally to get me knocked up." She slides her cream-filled warmth over you.

Yena's a good girl in the dark.

~~

"I'm done showering!" Yena announces to you as she joins you in the guest bedroom.

"Great, let's get some rest, it's been a long day." You pull the covers over the two of you and hold Yena close. "Thanks for coming here with me."

"Of course, your parents are so nice!"

"They got a little too excited about meeting you, sorry."

"No no it's okay, I like it, they're fans of me, because of you!"

"I guess." You kiss the top of her head, ready to sleep. Yena is not though, and she slips her hand under your t-shirt.

"Haven't I been a good girl today? Shouldn't you reward me?"

"Yena..." you start.

"I didn't tell them we started dating after multiple hookups together. I didn't tell them we do it raw all the time. I didn't—"

"You really want to have sex here, tonight?" Yena nods and throws a leg around you, and to your surprise she's already very wet.

"Just the thought, you know? Being part of your family, us being a family, starting a family. And I heard ginseng wine is good for you too, get the blood flowing." You know exactly why Yena's so wet now. "I-I even brought towels from the bathroom. I'm going to make such a mess." She says it like sex is a foregone conclusion.

"You're going to have be really quiet, I know how loud you get when you want me to breed you."

"That's what the other towel is for." She scrunches the towel up and bites down on it, looking at you pleadingly.

Yena's a good girl, but Yena's your good girl in the dark.

A/N: Just something quick and dirty, the whole "Good Girls in the Dark" song from her just gave me the idea lol. Right before her next comeback heh, maybe there's another "dirty" title there hopefully, or I'll just make it dirty as usual. Thanks for reading!

[ubeb0nes]

hiiii could you also do pitfighter reader with sevika next?? i loveee your writing!

HECK YEA, i was lowkey pulling for this one to win on the poll anyway (i'm definitely invested in bar owner!reader now that i've written for her, though!)

Silco goes through henchmen like water through a grater. And of course- like everything else- it falls on Sevika to keep his forces topped up.

She gets a lot of the dumb bruiser types from the Pit Ring. Easy to come by and even easier to hire once you wave just a little bit of money and status in their faces.

The higher in the rankings you are though, the less likely you are to take Silco's second's deals. Life as a Pit fighter is never easy, but the top percent definitely make more than they would as lackeys.

You were one such. Sevika had seen you a few times in the ring when she'd come down to pick up new blood.

You swung like somebody had taught you with intention. There was the charming roughness of Zaun ingrained in your style, but you had clear skill. Every time Sevika came back, your name was a little higher in the rankings.

She always got good seats due to her social standing. Close enough to see the look in your eyes. Controlled, if a bit empty.

You'd made eye contact with her once, right after toppling the second-ranked fighter. You'd given her a once-over that nearly offended her, like you wanted to get in the ring with her. Sevika scoffed at the very notion.

She couldn't lie though, even she felt the buzz of excitement permeating the crowd leading up to your face-off for the champion seat. This time, she was just here to watch.

It was the first time she'd seen you struggle. First time anyone had. She could tell from the moment you walked into the Pit, something was wrong.

The champion is killing you. Literally. It stirs something in Sevika as she watches him pin your head to the gritty ground with one hand, and beat on your skull with the other.

She jumps in before she even realizes what she's doing. What the hell was she doing?

The whole arena held its breath as someone who wasn't nameless, wasn't just some violent nobody presented themself.

Sevika knew what it looked like. She knew that word would get back to Silco and he'd ask her what the hell she was doing in the very center of a place like the Pit. But all she could do was spit on the ground, and square herself to the champion as if to say "Come try it with me, I dare you."

And he was about to, until he saw the whirring glow of her metal arm beneath her cape. The champ shrugged her off, taking his own leave while Sevika slung one of your arms over her shoulder.

It's not like he had anything to gain from fighting her. You were the only one he needed to beat.

"Why the hell did you do that?" You muttered out of a broken jaw.

"Yeah, it was no problem, don't mention it."

She starts to help you towards the locker room, until you tell her to take you to your apartment since it's only a little walk away.

It was definitely nicer than a lot of other units in Zaun. It looked untouched though, like you barely spent any time in there. She… lets you kinda crumple on the couch, before rummaging a bottle of alcohol from your pantry and removing a vial of Shimmer from her holster belt.

"Get that shit the fuck away from me."

"You done it in the past?"

"Hell no!"

"It's not gonna trap you after one dose. Trust me, you need it. You look like shit."

You give her some more shit, but eventually take the vial and the shot of vodka. Something about her is undeniably warm. Honest. You had no reason to give your trust out freely, but she seemed to have gained it without your knowing consent.

A part of your heart clung to it, the authenticity and honor she possessed that hadn't existed in so much as a whisper in the Pits.

Even as your entire nervous system seized the moment the Shimmer touched your throat, you were wholly conscious of her hand gripping the back of your neck with gentle, grounding firmness.

Her thumb subconsciously massaged into your trap muscle, and you heard her smoky voice urging you to "breathe, it'll be over soon". When had someone last touched you without the intention to hurt?

Still, after the Shimmer had passed through and you were feeling much better, you gave her a similar once-over to the one you once had before.

"Bet I could beat your ass."

"And I bet you'd die. Actually, this time." Yeah, that shut you up.

"So… what do I owe you for this?"

"Hm?"

"I still get a share even though I lost. C'mon, what percent's your cut?"

"I don't need your prize money. Or consolation, I guess."

"Rub it in, why don't you?"

She's ignoring you now though, electing to peruse the not so short row of books on your wall. "A well-read Pit fighter, huh? Well, you're number one in something in the Pits."

"Okay, what the hell do you want? Why'd you step in to help me?"

Her silence says she doesn't know, but you don't know that. You just think she's being an ass. Before you can tell her such though, she speaks up. "You know who I am, right?"

"Everybody in the Pit knows who you are. I saw the champ almost shit his pants."

"Then you know why I come to the Pits at all?"

"To play superhero, apparently."

"No. To recruit."

[madschiavelique]

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 6 - Seven Of Cups

summary : your detention doesn't happen like you'd have thought it would, and power goes out at the dormitories, leading you to odd exchanges with viktor

content warnings : fighting at the beginning of the chap but nothing much, other than that none (if you find anything to add here do tell).

word count : 7,6k

author's note : these bitches can't stop bantering okay, and i can't make them stop so yea

proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world

masterlist : here ．．discord : here ．．playlist : here

taglist : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal

You landed a blow to the throat of the girl facing you, who backed away as she regained some air and you were able to regain your composure as the screams grew louder all around you. All the way down your oesophagus, from your stomach to the back of your throat, the acid of your empty stomach burned all sanity.

Hunger could have made you do anything, the fire within making you nauseous as you tried not to wobble on your legs. You could have eaten the sandy soil on the floor of the pit if someone had told you that it would nourish you a little, or ease your ravenous hunger.

Your opponent was older than you, taller, heavier, and less gnawed by famine. The stands were screaming at you, one to get back on her feet, the other to strike until her skull burst. You could feel the rain of their spit on your skin as your opponent came back at you.

You tried to avoid her punches, retreating into the arena, trying to gain time by tiring her out. But she slapped you so hard that you fell to the ground. You tried to crawl back away from her as the crowd swelled in roars. You turned your head towards her for one last breath before she struck you a hard blow in the cheek.

The shock woke you from your dream.

You breathed in, wiping away the single tear from your cheek that had left a stain on your pillow. The gesture made you hiss, bringing your hand up to your swollen cheek, still aching. Ah, that's right, your little attempt at justice in the corridors yesterday came back to mind.

You huffed and puffed, turning over on your back in bed and letting your gaze drift to the ceiling, trying not to shake as you breathed softly.

Another nightmare, these days were not going to be easy.

You placed your hand on your belly, trying to control your breathing in the hopes of calming yourself slowly.

Why can't the past just die ? 

Because I'm not dead yet, you think. Only in death, maybe, could you say goodbye to all of this. 

You shook your head, you had too much to fight for, enough to defeat death, enough to push her back to your doorstep and chase her from your house no matter how hard she'd knock on the door of your mind.

To heal your wounds you had to stop touching them. You knew that, you knew that your little fight in the hallway had brought it back, that your constant fight against yourself and Viktor was pushing it all back to the front of your mind.

But what were you supposed to do? Let him be ridiculed like that, martyred by a student who wasn't there by any merit and only through the influence of a patron?

Since when had Viktor's respect been something you considered? You were supposed to hate him, not develop an obsession about hating him.

"Almost sounds like you're obsessed with me."

You hated the fact that, despite your best efforts to talk yourself out of it, he wasn't wrong. You turned, groaning in your bed. How could you agree with him? 

You thought back to what Selene had said to you once, ‘there are 3 reasons why people hate you: they see you as a threat, the people who hate you hate themselves, or they want to be like you.’

Did you want to be like Viktor? No, you certainly didn't, did you? The other two arguments were of course on your list, but was the last one really on it?

Yes, you probably wanted to be like him: to be first in everything, with a gift for conversation, to be almost perfect in everything he did...

You picked up your pillow, pulling it back over your head and letting the weight of it muffle your groan.

Obviously, you weren't going to get back to sleep, all those obsessive thoughts preventing any other idea from entering your mind. So you got up and went about your day.

You worked bitterly this weekend, not looking forward to your detention.

You wondered if your guardian knew, if the gossip had started to spread throughout the school and had finally infiltrated the teachers' room. What image would that give you? One of someone trying to teach a lesson to an insolent person attacking an innocent, or a bully who would never overcome the stereotype of her origins no matter how hard she worked?

You'd seen Viktor come into the café with Jayce, but they were both just passing through and had a takeaway. You couldn't help but notice two things about them. Firstly, the two of them were up to something, either about an assignment they perhaps had to do in another subject, or about a personal project that Jayce had never had to tell you about.

And secondly, Viktor couldn't stop looking at you.

His amber eyes were deeply piercing, looking right through you, searching for something, the key to an equation that would solve everything. But he couldn't find anything, at least not until you'd tell him about the missing piece yourself.

You weren't ready to give it to him. Not him, and probably not anyone else either. You always averted your gaze from his whenever you met him, but you felt it on you, lingering.

Monday came earlier than you would have liked, and when the day was over, you dragged your feet towards Madame Agrane's classroom. She was waiting there, arms folded, a stern expression on her face.

You gave her back a cold expression, devoid of any empathy. Your nature had disgusted her enough for you to find yourself in such a situation, thus it was for her nature that you returned her gaze so cold and steely.

You took your place in the room, taking out some of the homework you were planning to do, particularly the presentation you were supposed to do with - 

"Am I late ?"

Your head went from your notes to the door in a flash, as Viktor himself was standing in the doorway.

"Late for what ?" asked Agrane, confused.

Viktor stepped through the doorway, walking in your direction. "Detention."

Your eyes widened, your lips parting in surprise. What was he doing?

"You don't have det-" Agrane laughed nervously before Viktor interrupted.

"Yes, I do." He turned to her as he sat down just to your right, sending her a distinct look, one you'd given him during your work session for the Heimerdinger subjectc: silence.

She fell quiet, breathing out a little annoyed gasp before settling her half moon glasses back on her nose and jotting something down on one of her papers.

Viktor started to take out his things, and you shouted at him in a whisper: 

"What are you doing?"

He placed his notebook on the table and turned to you. "Currently ? I'm with you in detention."

"I know what-" you breathed at his irony, looking him in the eye this time, "what are you doing here ?"

"I'm doing detention-"

"Viktor," the word stopped him in his tracks, "you know that's not what I'm asking."

He stood speechless for a moment, and you realised that it was the first time you'd ever called him by his name to his face. You hadn't even called him by his name until now, no doubt because the word was bitter on your tongue, and he seemed just as surprised as you that, against all odds, his name from your lips wasn't full of spite.

He blinked repeatedly, turning to his page and pretending to search for his notes as he cleared his throat. "I thought it was unfair that you were the only one getting detention when you tried helping me for my own harshness."

You couldn't believe your eyes, your eyebrows jumping to your hairline in surprise. Viktor, of all people you would have preferred to have by your side at this very moment, had come to keep you company, and of his own free will.

It was almost sadistic, the torture he was inflicting on you. He was perfectly aware by now of your worries, or at least of the worries his presence was causing you. So why was he here?

The thought occurred to you that, eventually, Viktor might have respected you.

No... that was probably absurd. He was only here out of pity, or perhaps as a sign of student solidarity to get a message across. You could already hear the gossip: ‘Didn't you see? Viktor voluntarily went to detention as a sign of solidarity with the bully who broke the nose of the pupil who tripped him. How gallant!’

Would you have come if the roles had been reversed? If he had done you justice, taking the detention hour instead of you? Would you have shown honour despite what was at stake for you? You wouldn't have received any nice rumours about yourself, people would probably have said ‘she doesn't even want to be second to get detention, she always has to chase after him to try and shine in his shadow!’

You stopped looking at him, pretending to read your notes and rearrange them.

"You didn't need to do that." you tell him, your voice on the level of a whisper.

"And you didn't need to help me." he replies, turning a page.

"It was unfair, he deserved a good punch."

He turned to you, resting his chin on his palm, "So you getting detention for helping me is not unfair ?"

He had a point. It was a compelling and convincing argument, and for that very reason, you chose to ignore it. You didn't even exchange a glance with him, feeling the arrogance of the ‘I'm right and you know it’ weighing in his eyes.

"Don't you have anything better to do than being here ? Deaf kids to read to ? Students to beat with your cane ?"

"True that with my patron's help I could get through all of these fun times."

Madame Agrane gave you a reprimanding shush, telling you that your low masses would have to be kept to a minimum during this hour of detention.

You sighed, lowering your head to return to your notes, tapping the eraser of your pencil on your paper. You caught yourself glancing at Viktor a few times, despite your will, but inevitably returned to your paper as you tried to write down what you knew for the presentation.

Then, Viktor placed a sheet of paper near your side of the table. You watched him for a moment, the latter wearing his usual nonchalance as he read a passage from a textbook, his fingers following the lines.

You lowered your eyes to the page, which would have been almost blank if Viktor hadn't written at the top of the page in his own graceful handwriting: 

"A simple thank you you could've done it."

You scoffed, seriously? Was he still going to be petty about it? He had got himself into this situation after all. So you wrote in reply: 

"Me ? Thanking you ? That's a largeness of spirit I don't have."

You passed him the sheet of paper again with your written answer, and, as he read it, as if imitating you, he laughed back. You didn't think it was funny at all.

So he wrote on the sheet in turn, and you found yourself waiting for his reply, waiting almost impatiently for him to finish whatever he was writing. You wondered if he was taking his time on purpose, savouring the act of writing to you and keeping you waiting, keeping you itching for the outcome between his long, slender fingers.

He handed you the paper again, you pretending to be indifferent to it as you feigned interest in your notes before taking it.

"Are you still thinking about me? Is that why you're so unfocused?"

You stopped yourself from humming because you didn't want to grumble at his insolence. What a little... well, in a certain case and from a certain angle, he wasn't wrong, but that didn't mean you were going to prove him right any time soon.

So you almost aggressively took up your pen to answer him in three simple words: 

"In your dreams."

If only your dreams could be so tranquil... although you feared that one day Viktor would end up in your dreams. He haunted you enough on a daily basis, and if he came to chase you even in your dreams, that would probably mark the end of you.

He received the note, read it, smiled to himself and began to write back. You didn't know what you would prefer at the time, to at least refocus a little on your homework, or to continue this little round of exchanging notes that was taking you both back to high school.

You didn't even have time to get his next note while he was writing it because, almost with a bang, the door flew open. Before the astonished eyes of Viktor, Madame Agrane and yourself, a deeply angry Selene entered the room. She swept her eyes around the room, eyebrows furrowed over the dark, mystical shadow covering her eyelids, then came to rest on Agrane.

"What's all this about?" she asked, her tone stern.

Agrane seemed to want to make herself very small in her chair. No doubt she knew Selene and the links she had with the councillors. Which, in this case, placed her in a position to receive unwanted news should she have indulged in things Selene disagreed about.

"A simple detention for two students at fault, madam." she replied in a tiny voice.

"At fault?!" her dark shawl hemmed around her like a night wave as she crossed her arms, "and what fault have they committed?"

Agrane was about to answer, parting her lips, but Selene cut her off with a wave of her hand.

"I don't want to ask you," she turned to Viktor and you, still surprised, "I want to listen to them."

So she walked towards you.

"Them?" almost choked Agrane.

"Do you have hearing problems as well as judgement, madam?" she said, deeply exasperated as she turned to you and mumbled, "Who still gives detention in an academy."

You straightened up, giving Viktor a look as he recognised the astronomy teacher, but didn't seem to particularly understand why she herself had come to visit you, and especially in such an emotional state.

"Madame Agrane, I'm sure that-"

"If you think this dear lady is a liar, I want to see for myself." She was turned towards you, her eyes rimmed with a bluish night-shade, not letting you go. "I know when she's lying."

You huffed, exchanging a look with her. There was no need to make a scene of it, you thought, who knows what image it would give you? To be chaperoned when you'd beaten your academic success brick by brick?

"What happened." Selene asked, in a calm tone.

There was no need to lie to her, or to lighten the conversation with understatements. Selene, in this kind of situation, wanted to get straight to the point.

“We were coming back from the library,” you began, ”a student tripped my classmate-”

“What's your name, young man?” she questioned, turning to your nemesis.

“Viktor,” he cleared his throat, still surprised by the situation, ”Viktor Moravec.”

“Viktor huh?” she turned, raising her eyebrows at you and pointing him with one of her long fingernails before resting her eyes on him, ”you're the Viktor?”

Shit.

Viktor had, on every evening you spent in Selene's company - rare though they were - been an inescapable point of conversation. You couldn't help grumbling about him. Sélène being the only person around you who didn't know him from your hours of gossip wouldn't therefore be able to tell you ‘I don't see why you don't like Viktor.’ like all the others would.

And now she was meeting him.

Viktor nodded, and Selene smiled.

“I've heard quite a lot about you actu-”

“I knocked down the student who tripped him,” you resumed, hoping Selene wouldn't scatter her words and reveal more than was necessary. “He punched me, and I broke his nose.”

Selene's smile had vanished from her face. Her eyes then drifted to your cheek. 

You'd managed to find a concealer in the back of your drawers. Selene had given it to you a few years ago for an event you'd accompanied her to. It was covering enough to hide much of the hematoma on your cheek, but its dark color managed to stand out slightly through the cosmetic.

“And why are you in detention, and not the other student?”

Agrane rose from her chair, embarrassed surely. “Madame Sélène, this is all a misunderstanding. These two students are from Zaun-”

“And so?” questioned Sélène towards her, ”do they deserve less to be here?”

Agrane pouted, lowering her gaze.

“Look me in the eye and dare to tell me for even a moment that students from Zaun have less merit to study here when they're the ones who fight the hardest to even graze the walls of the academy.”

Agrane's eyes were fixed on the floor, at a loss for words.

Selene turned back to you. “You're no longer in detention, go home.”

You just stayed there for a moment, biting the inside of your cheek that had been hit. The pain pierced you, but you didn't let it show. You weren't particularly fond of the idea of having found yourself in this situation, and you didn't like the fact that you'd hidden your injury and your situation from Selene either.

She didn't seem too happy about it either, but no doubt for reasons quite different from your own. 

You gathered up your belongings, placing them in your satchel almost mechanically, Viktor seeming to do the same, although still startled.

You stood up, following Sélène out of the room. Once in the corridor, however, when Viktor wasn't far behind you, she pressed on.

“In my office, young lady. Immediately.”

You sighed, not much good would come of this conversation.

You didn't turn around, Viktor's gaze weighing on you and the weight of his future requests for explanations following you like your shadow.

You followed Selene, her heels clicking on the glossy floors of the academy. Hadn't you had enough trouble with teachers for one month? Heimerdinger, then Agrane, then her, the list seemed to go on without your good will.

She opened her office door, letting you in before slamming it shut.

“So,” she began, ”when were you going to tell me about all this?”

“I had no time to-”

“Even right after this happened?” she stopped you. “When else would you have told me, eh? Would you have kept it to yourself and hidden it under concealer until the blue faded?”

“I would have shared it with you tomorrow.” you retorted, pinching the bridge of your nose, ”I've had enough complications this week.”

“Since when has that stopped you from coming to see me and staying the night?” she resumed. “Do you think I'm not worried about you?”

You weren't angry with her; she only wanted what was best for you. You couldn't imagine her reaction when the teacher gossip started in the staff room. She was your guardian, and you getting beaten up in the corridors didn't reflect very well on what she should have done for you. Without her, you wouldn't be here.

And you were ashamed of your behavior. You had tried in vain to bring justice to the corridors, to reframe an impertinent man who wanted to play the tough guy by attacking someone weaker than him. You'd left behind a life of violence, and you didn't want to return to it. Yes, you were ashamed that Selene, who had educated and helped you, had to learn that the girl she had taken under her wing had come to blows.

You wanted to make her proud, and you felt you were failing.

You huffed and puffed, suddenly finding the floor an interesting piece of scenery.

Sélène's office was cosy. The velvet armchairs caught the warmth of the sun streaming into the room through the bay window taking up the entire wall opposite the entrance. A desk with dark, smoothed wood, a freshly cleaned chalkboard with new chalk, and a shelf where she kept her various teas played their part in the furniture of the office.

“I'm sorry I didn't come to you sooner,” you admitted, ”I just- haven't had good days lately.”

She crossed her arms, looking at you, softened. “More nightmares?”

You regained her eyes for a moment before turning your back on her and moving to one of the velvet armchairs, “Guess which lucky person has been chosen by Heimerdinger himself to be my presentation partner.”

Her shoulders slumped, her arms falling along her body as she walked over to you, sitting down in the armchair opposite.

“Why did you do this?” she questioned, ”Why did you go out of your way to protect Viktor, of all?”

You bite the inside of your lip, slumped in the armchair, eyes resting on the glass table where empty teapot and teacups reside.

“This guy, the student, he was... he'd called Zaunites rats.”

Sélène straightened up, listening to you, urging you to elaborate.

“He insulted Viktor,” you explained without meeting her eyes, “and when he had the guts to answer him, he made him trip over. I just... took Viktor's cane to push behind his knee and make him have a taste of his own medicine. As you can tell,” you pointed your cheek, ”he didn't like that very much. So, he gave me a punch. It was pretty hard, not that I've seen better but... I couldn't help myself. Call it muscle memory or whatever but I hit him on the nose and-”

You replayed the scene in your head, the muffled sound of Viktor's voice as he fell to the ground, the evil twang in the jerk's voice, and the looks on the lot.  You sighed as your eyes landed on Selene's.

“I don't like Viktor. Of that, you are aware. But he's one of ours, and sticking with our people is too important for me not to throw decorum out of the window because a guy with a golden ass tried to put him back under the sole of his shoe.”

You almost became carried away, letting the energy of frustration take over for a moment before calming down again.

“Turns out golden ass has a powerful patron,” you recounted as you rolled your eyes and hemmed your bottom lip under the ridiculousness of this situation. “It scared Agrane enough for her to put me alone in detention.”

Selene frowned, “You alone?”

Your knee was beginning to twitch with anxiety.

“Viktor decided to integrate himself into the detention.”

A small smile appeared on Selene's lips, to which you replied with exasperation, raising an eyebrow.

“This boy likes you.”

You rolled your eyes and parted your lips in shock as your head fell to the side. “Please don't send me that kind of curse or I'll never finish this year in one piece.”

She laughed gently, watching you for a moment. You couldn't figure out what she was thinking, couldn't figure her out.

“Do I disappoint you?”

Her eyes softened, sighing as if nothing in the world could ever bring her to this end.

“You never disappoint me, and I don't think you ever will even if you tried your hardest.”

“Setting me on another challenge?” you joked.

“I don't think this one is the kind I want to see you excel in.” she laughed.

The conversation continued a little longer, with Sélène asking about your last few nights' sleep and, incidentally, your day's tarot card.

This morning you had drawn the seven of cups, to which mention Selene, after an interested A-ha, straightened up to recite as if facing one of her clients: 

“Options, visions of dreams turning real, wild imagination. The card reflects illusions but also multiple choices. The character is in the dark while the cups are lighted. Is reality as delicious as the imaginary ? All the possibilities are on the table, only the mind limits what we can do. You are prone to illusion and unrealistic ideals. An opportunity with promises of more money, more fame, or more power may sound appealing, but as you look deeper into what is on offer, you may realise it’s not everything it’s cracked up to be. Your ego may pull you in a specific direction, but it’s important you check in with your Higher Self first.”

Your Higher Self, eh? She was on vacation, surely.

Night had already fallen by the time you left Sélène's office and returned from the academy. You felt lighter for having spoken to her; the weight of the lie would have hung too heavy in your heart anyway.

You returned to the dormitories, where Sky was cooking. You chatted for a while, asking her how her day had gone, before taking a seat at your desk and rereading your notes for the day.

Only, a good fifteen minutes later, all the lights went out.

You wondered at the time whether you'd been knocked unconscious, or whether you'd suddenly lost consciousness through exhaustion. It wasn't until Sky called your name in the darkness that you realized the power had simply gone out.

You groped around in the dark, looking for your flashlight, which you reached and turned on. You tucked it between your teeth, searching through your drawers. You'd kept some candles from Eris, Zaun candles made of a special wax that slowed down the melting time of the flame, perfect for a nation of miners.

After several minutes of diligent searching, you finally found them, holding them out to Sky as you picked up your matchbox. You gently placed the flames on them, taking one in your hands.

There was a knock at the door, probably from some students wondering if you too were experiencing a similar situation and if you had anything to keep the light on.

You opened the door, on Viktor.

“You,” you exclaimed in a tone that was equal parts repugnance and disbelief.

“Ah, how I've longed for your sweet voice,” he smiled.

“What do you want?” you inquired, tired enough as it was.

“Can't you answer ‘yes’ like all normal people?” he sighed, pointing with his chin to your candle. “Have you got any more of those?”

“Where's Jayce?” 

“Contacting the electrical crew.”

“The whole building's out?”

“The whole neighborhood. Do you have any more candles, or do I have to answer a whole form of your questions to get some light?”

“Here Viktor,” Sky stepped forward, handing him her own candle.

He took it, almost surprised by the gesture.

“Thanks, Ms Young.”

“Sky?” called Orcelyia not far behind Viktor, ”You coming? Everyone's reuniting downstairs in front of the chimney for some warmth.”

“Coming!” confirmed Sky.

“Wait, Sky?” you stopped her, handing her your own candle so she wouldn't get lost on the way since all the students were moving either blindly or with a meager flashlight. “You're not coming?”

“Yes in a-” you were about to answer when Viktor himself replied for you. 

“Not yet, we'll join you all soon.”

Sky offered a small smile, her eyes darting back and forth between you and him before leaving in the half-light.

“Did the middle of my sentence interrupt the beginning of yours?” you said, turning back to Viktor.

“I'm sure you'll manage to recover from the deeply traumatic event of me cutting you off while you speak. Do you have any more candles?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “But to find them I need light, and that means a candle.” You held out your hand to him. “Pass me the candle.”

He tilted his head back slightly. “What's the magic word?”

“Oh, yeah nevermind. I'll get it myself.” you say as you turn, trying to make out where to go in the gloom.

“Magic words really aren't your thing,” Viktor remarked, sighing and following you to offer you some light all the same. “Are 'please' and 'thank you' really that hard?”

You knelt down to rummage through the box where the candles were stored. “They're magic words, do you really expect me to waste them on someone like you when they're so full of worth?”

“Oh, I thought that miss Second would just-”

You were on your feet in no time, facing him, and pointing a candle at him.

“Call me that one more time, see what happens.” 

He looked startled in the half-light, eyes wide for a moment before they softened. He had a kind of mystical aura, standing there in your room. The almond of flame atop the candle reflected in his amber eyes and lit him softly like those dark, silent paintings.

“You're threatening me with a candle?”

“Zaun candle, much harder when it breaks. Want a taste?”

“If it's from Zaun I doubt it tastes good.”

“Better add that line to our exposé.”

“You're the funniest girl in the whole cemetery,” confirmed Viktor.

“Haha.” you say, not knowing what to say, so you pulled the minimalist irony card.

He moved his candle closer to you, and you exchanged a silent glance with him before bringing your candle closer to let it take flame at its tip. But he drew it back at the last minute, preventing you from doing so.

“Then,” he took a step towards you, ”pick your nickname.”

The indigence and intellectual vacuity of Viktor's principles at the top of their game was back.

“I don't want a nickname.”

“What should I call you then?”

“Don't call me ?”

“I'm afraid that is going to be slightly complicated.”

“Find a solution for it then.”

You moved your candle towards his again, but he withdrew it. Again.

“What now?”

“What did you and Sélène talk about, in her office?”

“How is that any of your business?”

“Shed some light on my questions and I will offer you some.” he said, moving his candle in his fingers like a bone to a dog.

You sighed, your shoulders drooping. “I told her what happened, that's all.”

“Is it, though?” he remarked, arching an eyebrow. “You're not telling me everything.”

“And why the hell would I tell you anything?”

“Because otherwise I will tell the entire building that you stole Jayce's nail polish he uses for his toes.”

You giggled. “Pardon?” you cleared your throat though. “Are you threatening me with fictitious concepts?”

“Do you underestimate my ability to spread rumors, miss?”

You clenched your fist, glaring at him. At least he hadn't affixed the sobriquet 'Number Two' to you again. He annoyed you, constantly having an answer, always something close on his tongue to send you like a knife gift by his accent.

He squinted, his mouth forming into a small, hurried O, as if he'd just touched a nerve. “Go on, I've seen more formidable foes in a toddler's tantrum. Yet, my question still remains: what are you not telling me here?”

You inhaled, raising your chin without ever leaving his gaze.

“You're wasting time with your questions.” you indicated, your chin pointing to the flame. "No flame takes its time."

“Like you said, Zaun candles.” he continued, observing the candle like a gem. ”Harder and longer no matter the situation, like its people. You set them on fire, and you'll be the one burning. So,” his eyes returned to yours, ”I've got all the time I need.”

You looked at him, his eyes boring into yours, waiting for answers. He wouldn't let you go, would he?

“Selene is my guardian.”

His eyes crinkled for a moment. “Your guardian?” 

“My legal guardian. Is that enough for you, or do I have to answer a whole form of your questions to get some light?”

He stayed here for a moment, parted lips from your use of his previous words forcing him to be quiet. You hesitated to take his hand, just to stop him from backing away once more, but you had no need to do anything. 

He said nothing, simply moved his candle towards yours and, of his own accord, set the little rod alight. It didn't take long for it to settle at the end. After all, no flame takes its time. 

“Viktor?” called Jayce, coming down the hall. 

You exchanged a silent glance, Viktor's eyes seemingly full of questions in the face of what you'd revealed to him, but he didn't ask for anything else. 

“Over here,” Viktor indicated with a raise of his voice, his eyes remaining on you for a moment before turning back and moving towards the corridor.

“Ah, there you are.” Jayce breathed. “We went a bit too strong this time, I don't think this building can...”

But whatever Jayce was about to say died on his tongue as he watched you emerge from your apartment right after Viktor.

“... Can?” you asked, waiting for the end of his sentence.

“Can, um... warm the heater enough to cook something!” He smiled, far too proud of his excuse, mediocre as it was. “Yeah we uh, we've been getting issues with our stove lately so we just tried cooking on top of our heater...” 

He scratched the back of his neck nervously, a worried smile placed on his face as you let your eyes shift from him to Viktor.

“Don't look at me like that, we have to get solutions one way or another.” he said, so confidently that you could almost have fallen for this boilerplate explanation undoubtedly covering an entirely different truth.

“You're both part of the top students of all classes, and you decided to use a heater as a way to cook?” you turned to Jayce for a moment before returning to Viktor's eyes. “You'd allow him to go through such an idea huh.”

“Eh...” Viktor seemed to seriously consider the idea, looking up as if to imagine the scene.

“Did you go to NSI? The National School for Idiots?” you asked.

“Hey it's fine,” resumed Jayce, who clearly still had his sights set on making you and Viktor best friends. “How about we join the others downstairs, hm?”

You sighed, taking the front step down. “Jayce, your rose-colored glasses are indestructible.”

So you joined the tiny group of students downstairs, some of whom had even brought out blankets from their rooms to share. It was cold already, the heaters having all been turned off by the power cut, so everyone had gathered in front of the big fireplace in the hall.

Jayce was called out by other classmates, Viktor staying by your side while you remained slightly apart from the group of students.

“So,” Viktor began, “she's your guardian.”

You sighed, “Here we go again.”

“I wouldn't have imagined that Selene, serene as she is, would be your guardian.”

“If there's any fault in her upbringing, it's mine, not hers. Why do you even care so much about all of this?”

He turned to you. “Does it really seem that impossible to you that I want to learn more about you out of genuine curiosity?”

His sentence took you by surprise. Of all the things Viktor could have said, this most unsettled you. Why did he go out of his way to interact with you? To find you to tease, to pester you on a daily basis and throw in some of his jokes in the bunch while balancing it with genuine, honest questions like these?

Your lips were parted, nothing coming to the front of your mind as you tried formulating anything, but still couldn't manage as an unfortunately familiar voice interrupted you.

“So, how was the detention hour?” 

Viktor and you turned, the idiot at the heart of your detention standing not far from you. 

“Hey Tyler, quit it man,” one of his friends tried to reason, but to no avail.

But he pretended to be deaf to his remark. “Looks like Agrane hasn't lost her mind in the end, Zaunites like you should deserve a longer time in detention, especially behind bars.”

“Why, do we feel threatening to you, Tyler?” asked Viktor almost innocently, pressing the fool's name to his lips.

“What ?No-” replied the latter, baffled for a moment, then frowning and dilating his nostrils through his anger. “Pieces of trash like you just don't belong here, you're getting this place dirty by your sole presence.”

“Being a victim of your own mediocrity must be hard to endure every day of your existence, Tyler.” you chuckled, approaching him who remained standing not far from the fireplace.

“What,” he sneered, ”Miss Number One has become his dog now huh? His guardian to cover him any time he's in trouble?”

“Have you become our groupie?” Your lips almost stretched into a haughty smile, “Are you obsessed with us?”

His face contorted in incomprehension and shame.

“Aw, little Tyler is obsessed with us so much. You cared enough to ask how my detention was, now I'll kindly ask: are you looking for more stitches to cover your face? A black eye to match your nose ?”

He let out a laugh somewhere between mockery and nervousness.

“You wouldn't dare.”

“We're on a field outside the walls of the academy, what happens here, therefore, doesn't happen there and isn't related to it.”

He huffed like a rhinoceros, his shoulders dropping and rising rapidly as he came to clutch a poker before the bemused eyes and exclamations of surprise that rose in the students.

“You're going to pay you fucking bitch.”

But as he began to step forward, Jayce interjected between the both of you.

“Say that again, Tyler. I dare you.”

Tyler froze in place, surprise passing over his face like a suddenly opened curtain letting in the morning light.

“Talis?” 

Your heart pounded into your throat as Jayce's massive back faced you, separating you from a fool who knew only hatred and cheap ideas.

“What did you just call my friend, hm? Mind repeating that?” 

You met Tyler's gaze behind Jayce's shoulder, the latter exchanging a glance with you before regaining Viktor's in the distance.

“Got two dogs for yourself Viktor,” he said, raising his voice, ”don't you know animals are forbidden in this place ?”

“You should go back with your goldfish peers then,” you remarked.

“You stupid-”

“One more insult to them and you will be sure that a conversation will be held about your case to councillor Torman Hoskel.”

That seemed to be enough to turn Tyler from tomato red to white as a sheet. Jayce seemed to know more about the students than he was letting on, and use it to his advantage, much to your surprise.

The light suddenly returned, and the students all had to get used to the brightness again. Jayce didn't take his eyes off Tyler until the latter finally lowered his head.

“Well,” Jayce resumed, ”everyone, I think it's time for us to go back to our rooms.”

Tyler gave you one last angry look before leaving.

It didn't take long for everyone to pick up their comforters and scatter, Viktor joining you and Jayce in front of the fireplace.

“Having a conversation with Hoskel?” you repeated, confused.

Jayce sighed, his jaw muscle tensing for a moment as he watched you. “From what I remember of Viktor's explanation of last Friday's incidents, he'd mentioned having a powerful patron, or something like that.”

“And his patron is Hoskel?” you concluded bemusedly.

He nodded. “Yes, as well as his uncle.”

You chuckled, not believing the privileges hidden in every student at the academy.

“And how would you expect to have such a conversation?”

Viktor interjected, “By discussing it with his girlfriend.”

Your eyes widened. Your eyes went from Viktor to Jayce like two ping pong balls swinging between the two. Eventually, they settled back on Jayce.

“You have a girlfriend?”

He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Mhm.”

You weren't really surprised, in fact it would have been surprising if the opposite had been true. Jayce was handsome, successful, caring, a walking green flag, and it would have been the injustice of the century if he hadn't found love.

“Who is she ? Do I know her ?” you asked.

“Well...” Jayce shrugged, looking at the ceiling and then the fireplace, shrugging. “Sort of ?”

“What do you mean sort of?” you quipped.

“Let's say his girlfriend might or might not be sitting at the council.” sighed Viktor.

You turned to him, and by his sigh, you could well imagine how much of Jayce's time was spent talking about her. You chuckled at the thought, at the fact that Viktor, who was martyring you, also had a pain in the ass to put up with most of the time.

“Vik, come on,” Jayce breathed.

“What? She'd have figured it out one day or another.” confirmed Viktor with a shrug.

You listed the councillors in your head, eliminating all the men with ease to find two women. Councilwoman Shoola seemed to frighten Jayce more than anything else, with her long gold claw rings and gear ruff. That left only one obvious option.

“Are you seriously dating Mel Medarda?” you asked, your jaw ready to drop.

“... Yes?”

You gasped. “You are Mel Medarda's boyfriend, daughter of Ambessa Medarda of Noxus?”

“Let's not go too far with the titles,” Jayce laughed nervously.

“When did you- How did you-” All the questions suddenly overlapped, and Jayce placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“I will answer all of this in due time.” He stepped back. “For now, I'm gonna head back to our room. You comin Vik ?”

“In a minute.” he affirmed.

As Jayce rushed down the corridor to the wing of their apartment, Viktor turned to you, a flash of mischief in his eyes.

“I got a body guard for myself now, are you going to save me from papercuts when we'll be back to the library on friday?”

“Do you want me to push your teeth in?”

“You're supposed to be protecting me, not sending me to certain danger, Miss.”

“Whatever, have a night, Viktor.” you sighed as you made your way to your own dormitory.

“A night ? Are you really removing the word 'good' in here?”

“I am, have a night!”

You climbed the stairs to your floor and walked to your room, finding Sky again. She had turned the hob back on and resumed preparing the meal.

“Are you alright?” she asked, turning away from the mini kitchen, genuinely concerned.

“Why wouldn't I be?” you breathed, heading off to lie on your bed for a moment.

“This guy Tyler, he... You were so brave standing up to him.” she said, bits of adoration sparkling in her words. “Is he the same that got you in detention today?”

“The very same,” you sighed, placing your arm over your eyes as you lay back. “Fortunately for me, a teacher heard of it and let us out.”

“I see,” she said, turning back to the pan and its contents. “What did you and Viktor talk about when you were here? You took a bit of time to come down with the rest of us.”

The question was almost bitter beneath its gentle, curious tones. Acidic ideas resonated in it: the fact that you and Viktor had something going on away from everyone, even her and Jayce. Whether this jealousy was amorous or friendly, you weren't sure, but the wording made you feel a twinge of guilt.

It was absurd, though. Did she honestly think that, with the animosity that permeated you about Viktor, you'd have feelings for him and that you'd be... something more than classmates?

“He took the opportunity to pick up some notes I took for Heimerdinger's presentation,” you replied. “We split up the work so he needed to check he wasn't repeating himself with what I say in the paper. I swear if I cross the path of Heimerdinger again or that he puts me on a task with the skeleton king I'm going to shave his fur.”

Sky laughed, erasing your concerns with this gesture alone.

“If you do that I don't know how I'll be able to focus in class, his shaved version must be... so small?”

You laughed a little, ate your meal, chatted quietly until you went back to your respective beds.

You couldn't help thinking about everything that had happened that day. First of all, the fact that Viktor had voluntarily come to spend the hour, or at least the five-minute detention with you. Then the long discussion with Selene, and then the power cut... 

Once again you hadn't hesitated to take the lead on him, but that was on principle, wasn't it? 

When had the limit been crossed where you could put yourself in danger for him? And for his part, since when had he crossed the line where he would voluntarily, as a friend would, inquire about you?

Does it really seem that impossible to you that I want to learn more about you out of genuine curiosity?

You tossed and turned in bed. Did he mean it? Was he serious, or was this just another sarcasm to add to the long list of bickerings you sent each other on a daily basis?

Miss.

Your train of thought stopped in an instant, and any empathy you'd felt for Viktor vanished into thin air. You realized right then and there its connotation. That no matter what, you'd always be a failure, a miss.

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[tunatoge]

pairing: s. gojo x reader | next part >

when megumi asks gojo to teach him how to ride a bike, he panics–how would he teach a kid how to ride a bike when he doesn’t know how to ride one either? instead of admitting that, however, gojo goes out and buys a kids’ bike with training wheels, reassuring megumi that ‘of course he knows how to ride a bike, he’s the best cyclist in the world’! megumi doubts him the moment gojo’s confident facade falls and he eyes the bike weirdly. 

you’re in the bath at your small apartment when gojo calls you, saying he desperately needs you. you immediately jump out of the tub and dry yourself as you attempt to simultaneously throw on your uniform. when you get to gojo’s place, you quickly look around in fear that something is wrong only to find little megumi and tsumiki crowded around a gaudy blue bike. megumi looks up at you, a bike helmet a size too big pulled over his messy hair. 

“are you going to teach me how to ride a bike?” he asks as he scratches at the velcro straps on his knee pads. 

huh?

everything clicks into place when gojo comes around the corner with unnecessary biking equipment piled high in his arms. you grit your teeth. of course gojo would ask you to teach megumi how to ride a bike, you and suguru were the only ones who knew how to ride one in the first place. you didn’t think it was too useful of a skill when you and your classmates were younger, especially after the young gojo clan head had called you a country bumpkin for knowing how to ride a bike, but you suppose it was important enough that gojo would deliberately go out of his way to get you to teach a kid how to bike. 

as gojo deposits everything in his arms, you crouch down to megumi’s height with a smile on your face, pushing your still wet hair out of your eyes. you reach forward and adjust megumi’s helmet. 

“how long have you been biking with training wheels?” you ask, pulling the helmet straps a little tighter and clipping them into place. 

megumi purses his lips as he looks away to think. “a few weeks,” he says, “i want to be the first one in my grade to know how to ride a bike without training wheels, though.” you let out a little laugh as megumi tucks his chin away from you, his cheeks a soft pink. 

“alright, megumi, i’ll make sure that you’re the first person in your grade to ride a bike.” you extend your pinky towards him, “i pinky promise,” you say, tilting your head with a bright smile. megumi shyly links his pinky with yours as your smile widens. 

teaching megumi how to ride a bike is hard. gojo hovers over your shoulder as you run behind megumi as he pedals on his bike, watching with a small unhidden grimace every single time you let go of the back of the blue bike and tell megumi to ‘keep going’! not only does having gojo next to you make it significantly harder to instruct megumi, but you also have to listen to him attempt to console and give wrong advice to the kid. 

you groan outwardly as megumi topples over on his bike a few feet away from you. as gojo begins to walk towards him, you bring your arm up and block him. 

“satoru,” you warn, “if you continue to give megumi wrong advice again i will fucking punch you.” you turn towards him and glare sharply. “let me do this.” 

you walk towards megumi and gojo falters, watching as you take the boy into your arms and pat the dirt off of him and make sure his knee pads are on tightly. the evening wind blows through your and megumi’s hair as you crouch down and pick up the ugly, scratched bike and help megumi settle back onto it. tsumiki stands up from the park bench she’s seated at and makes her way towards gojo, watching as you and megumi begin to race even further down the park’s bicycle only section. you let go and cheer loudly as megumi finally gets the hang of it, jumping up and down before bounding after him as he bikes around and around. 

“i like them,” tsumiki tells gojo, letting gojo reach down and pull her hair out of her face as the wind begins to pick up even more.

“me too,” he admits softly, watching you and megumi turn around, listening as your and megumi’s elated laughter fills the empty park.

[solxamber]

Hi! I love your writing, I'm constantly rereading it, it's so good!! I would like to request a scenario where reader is a very sweet and nice person, always helping others and willing to listen to their problems, but they reach their limit and snap one day at a group of nrc boys who have been harassing them for a long time (up to you if it was malicious teasing or a 'pulling on pigtails' reason for the teasing!). Full on calling them out for their shitty behavior and verbally tearing them down, and drawing a crowd who didn't think this would happen because of reader's usual personality. They have to get pulled away by (separate scenarios) Vil, Leona, and Crewel who helps them calm down and comforts them when they start angry crying. Pre-relationship for Vil and Leona please, maybe they have to deal with the fact they thought reader was super attractive when they were all angry and going off on the NPCs lol. Thanks if you write this one! 🫶

Sweet reader who goes off with Leona, Vil, Crewel

i loved this ask, it was fun to write <3

Leona Kingscholar

Leona had been watching the whole thing from the sidelines, lounging under the shade of a tree. He knew the moment those idiots opened their mouths, things were about to go sideways. What he didn’t expect was for you to completely lose it.

You, the sweet and patient person who always helped others with a smile, were now ripping into the Savanaclaw students like a lion who’d just had its tail stepped on.

“Wow, real original, ‘stealing magicless human’s lunch,’” you sneered, hands on your hips. “What’s next? Pulling my hair? Tripping me in the hallway? You all got your moves straight from a kindergarten bully manual, didn’t you?”

The group of Savanaclaw students blinked in confusion, clearly not expecting the sudden barrage. “W-Well, we’re just... teasing!” one of them stammered.

“Teasing? Is that what you call it?” You leaned in, your voice dropping to a deadly calm. “How about you explain to me why ‘teasing’ always involves targeting the same person over and over again, huh? Or do I have to spell it out for you? You’ve been after me for weeks. If you’ve got a problem, say it.”

Leona stifled a yawn, his ear twitching as he overheard one of the idiots mutter, “Sheesh, we’re just messin’ around ‘cause she’s cute...”

You blinked, clearly having heard that, and turned on your heel. “Excuse me?”

The guy looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh, nothing?”

“Oh no, no, no. You said I’m cute, didn’t you?” Your voice was sweet, but the look in your eyes could melt steel. “You mean to tell me you’ve been pulling my pigtails like some lovesick middle schooler?”

Leona almost choked on his laughter. The guys shifted on their feet, visibly uncomfortable. One of them scratched the back of his neck and muttered, “Well, uh, kinda...”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my god. You’re literally harassing me because you like me?”

The poor guy looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. “I mean, I wouldn’t say harass—”

“SHUT UP!” you snapped, throwing your hands in the air. “Are you guys twelve?! Did I get transported into some kind of second-grade drama fest? This isn’t how you flirt! You could’ve just asked me to lunch like a normal person!”

Leona was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. This was too good. His underlings were idiots, but this was a new low.

“And by the way, just so we’re clear,” you continued, “I wouldn’t have said yes! Why? Because I actually have standards. Like, oh I don’t know, not going after people who torment me for weeks on end!”

That finally shut them up. The group shuffled awkwardly, clearly regretting all their life decisions, when Leona finally decided to make his move. He casually strolled over, tail swaying lazily behind him.

“Oi,” he drawled, hands in his pockets. “You done terrorizing my pack yet?”

You turned, eyes still blazing with fury, and Leona had to admit—he’d never seen you look hotter. All riled up, standing there like you were about to take on the entire world. He leaned against a nearby tree, smirking. “You’ve got more bark than most of them combined.”

You pointed at the group with a glare. “Your pack? These idiots have been making my life miserable because they don’t know how to talk to someone they like!”

Leona’s smirk widened, clearly amused. “Is that so?” He cast a glance at the culprits, who were now looking anywhere but at you or him. “Sounds like they could use a lesson in charm.”

One of the guys mumbled, “But we didn’t mean—”

Leona’s eyes narrowed, silencing him immediately. “Run along, or I’ll make you regret it.” His tone was lazy, but the underlying threat was enough to send them scrambling.

As they bolted, you crossed your arms, still fuming. “Unbelievable. They were harassing me because they like me. That’s like pulling pigtails on the playground!”

Leona chuckled, pushing off the tree. “Can’t blame ‘em for trying. You’ve got some fire in you.”

You shot him a look, annoyed. “Are you seriously taking their side?”

“Nah.” Leona tilted his head, studying you. “I’m just sayin’... maybe they’ve got a point.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He stepped closer, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “They’re idiots, sure. But they’re right about one thing—you’re worth the trouble.”

Your face flushed, and before you could fire back, you felt your anger quickly unraveling into something much messier. You tried to blink it away, but your eyes were already starting to sting, and before you knew it, hot tears were spilling over.

“Great,” you muttered, voice shaking. “Now I’m crying. Just perfect.”

Leona’s smirk dropped when he saw your shoulders tremble. He sighed, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Oi, don’t—”

“Don’t tell me not to cry!” you snapped, angry sobs spilling out now. “I’m allowed to cry! I’ve been dealing with this crap for weeks, and it’s not fair! I didn’t do anything to them! I’m just trying to live my life!”

Leona’s eyes softened, clearly caught off guard by your outburst. He hesitated for a second, then stepped closer, carefully placing a hand on your shoulder. “...Alright, alright. I get it.”

You sniffled, wiping furiously at your tears. “They’re so stupid. And mean. And I—I’m so tired of it.”

Leona grunted, his tone a little softer than usual. “They’re idiots, but they won’t bother you again. Trust me.”

You hiccuped, nodding weakly. “I just… I don’t get why they—why would anyone do that?”

Leona scratched the back of his head, suddenly feeling awkward. He wasn’t good at comforting people, but damn it, seeing you cry because of those morons made his chest tighten.

With a resigned sigh, he pulled you close, resting his chin on top of your head. “It’s alright, herbivore. You were overdue for that. And anyway, you can use those sharp words on me whenever you want.” His voice dropped, teasing. “I don’t mind.”

You sniffled, half-laughing, half-crying into his chest. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leona smirked. “But you like me anyway.”

Vil Schoenheit

It was common knowledge that Vil paid special attention to you. Whether it was because of your potential or because you had a natural grace, the others were never sure, but it was obvious that the attention he gave you drove some students crazy. Specifically, a group of Pomefiore boys who had made it their life’s mission to be jealous, petty, and downright irritating. And today, you were done pretending you didn’t hear their snide remarks.

“Can’t believe Vil wastes his time with them,” one sneered. “It’s not fair. We actually try, and they just get it handed to them?”

You stopped in your tracks, eyes twitching as their words piled on.

“They’re probably not even trying to look good. Vil’s just playing favorites—”

That’s when you lost it. You whirled around, glaring at them with a ferocity they clearly hadn’t anticipated. “Favorites? Favorites?! Oh, PLEASE. First of all, the only thing Vil is handing out is a reality check, which all of you clearly missed! You think it’s easy working with him? That he just showers me with praise while you’re left to fend for yourselves? NEWSFLASH—Vil’s standards are through the roof, and I’m busting my ass just like everyone else!”

They stammered, taken aback by your outburst, but you weren’t done.

“You all spend so much time being bitter that Vil doesn’t notice you, but guess what? Maybe—just maybe—it’s because you’re too busy whining and not busy enough doing the damn work! You think complaining is gonna magically make you the fairest one of all? Spoiler alert: You’ve got about as much chance as a muddy potato in a beauty pageant!”

The entire courtyard was staring now. You? The sweet, helpful student who always wore a kind smile? Absolutely demolishing a group of boys who deserved every single word you were hurling at them.

“And another thing! The next time you want to insinuate that I’m getting ‘special treatment,’ take a look in the mirror and ask yourself if you are the one who’s too lazy to earn it!”

Vil, who had been silently watching from a distance, felt something stir inside him as he listened to you tear into them. That fire. That passion. That confidence. You were utterly captivating when you were angry. How had he not noticed how striking you were in this moment?

He stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder, his calm presence easing the tension just a little. “Enough, darling. You’ve made your point.”

You blinked, realizing who it was, and the adrenaline started to wear off as your shoulders slumped. “Vil, I…”

“You did well.” His voice was smooth, soothing. “But let’s not waste more energy on them, hm?”

Tears prickled at your eyes as your emotions bubbled over. “It’s just… it’s not fair. I’m trying so hard.”

Vil turned you to face him fully, his eyes soft despite the usual sharpness. “I know you are. And I see it, every day. That’s why I pay attention to you.”

Your breath hitched, caught off guard by the tenderness in his voice. His hand reached up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek, and for a moment, you forgot how angry you had been. All you could focus on was how close he was, how his presence seemed to anchor you.

“You’re more beautiful when you’re not holding back,” Vil murmured, almost too quiet for you to hear. But oh, you heard it. Loud and clear.

Divus Crewel

It was the same old song and dance with these students. They couldn’t handle the fact that you were getting along so well with the dorm leaders and staff, so naturally, they decided to take it out on you. You didn’t have magic, you didn’t belong at NRC, blah blah blah—it was all the same garbage, and today, you’d had enough.

“Oh look, the magicless pet is here,” one sneered. “What’d you do to get on their good side? Bribe ‘em? Kiss up to Crewel so he gives you extra points in class?”

You slammed your hands on the nearest table, the sound echoing through the classroom. “Oh, for the love of everything, can you SHUT UP for once in your miserable lives?!”

They blinked at you, shocked. You? Sweet, friendly, always-helpful you? Snapping?

“Bribe the staff?! Really? You’re dumber than I thought, and that’s saying something considering you’ve spent more time scraping by in Crewel’s class than actually passing it! You think I’m getting special treatment? I WORK TWICE AS HARD AS ANY OF YOU, BECAUSE I HAVE TO!”

You were on a roll now, and the more they stared, the angrier you got.

“Newsflash, genius! Being nice to people isn’t ‘kissing up,’ it’s called not being an insufferable little gremlin! Maybe if you spent less time whining and more time actually trying, you wouldn’t be such a failure in every sense of the word! And don’t even get me started on the fact that I—without magic—am somehow doing better than all of you!”

The group was completely stunned into silence, but before you could land another blow, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“Puppy.” Professor Crewel’s tone was firm but gentle. “That’s enough.”

You froze, spinning around to see him standing there, arms crossed, but there was something soft in his eyes. Before you could protest, the adrenaline started to wear off, and all the frustration you had bottled up came spilling out in the form of tears.

Your hands shook as the adrenaline crash hit you hard, and suddenly, the tears started to fall. “I—I’m sorry, I just… I couldn’t take it anymore…”

Crewel stepped forward, his usual sternness softening into something almost paternal. He placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “No need to apologize, pup. Those troublemakers had it coming.”

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “But I—I’m supposed to be better than that. I shouldn’t have yelled…”

“Sometimes,” Crewel said, tilting your chin up so you’d look him in the eye, “people need to be put in their place. And you did that perfectly.”

His calm assurance made you break down even more, and before you knew it, you were full-on ugly crying in front of him. He sighed, but not out of exasperation—more like a father who knew his kid had finally reached their limit.

With surprising gentleness, Crewel pulled you into a loose hug. “Let it out. You’ve been holding this in for too long.”

You sobbed into his shoulder, not caring that you were crying all over the crisp white fur of his coat. “I just—They’ve been—”

“I know.” He patted your back, his voice steady. “And they’ll be dealt with. But you need to take care of yourself first.”

You hiccupped, nodding into his coat. “Thanks, Professor.”

Crewel gave you one last reassuring pat before pulling back, his sharp eyes focusing on the group of students still frozen in place, unsure if they should stay or flee. “Now, as for you lot… if I hear even a whisper of disrespect toward my pup again, you’ll wish you were expelled. Do I make myself clear?”

The group scrambled to nod and mutter apologies before scurrying off, tails between their legs.

Once they were gone, Crewel sighed and gently turned you toward the door. “Let’s go get you some tea, pup. You’ll feel better after.”

You sniffled, managing a small smile. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

Masterlist

[paiges-1vur]

use me… as always enjoy loves <3 (pt. 1)

it had been a long and tiring game. you watched paige the whole time from the crowd, cheering her on but ultimately realizing something was up with her. she was playing exceptionally, which was usual for her, but something about her body language was… off. you couldnt quite place your finger on it. not tired, or annoyed either. either way, it was a long and physically demanding game.

when you meet paige after the game, things are definitely off. instead of pulling her into a big bear hug per usual, paige gave you a quick hug before placing her hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the arena. as your walking out in silence, you speak up. “paige are you okay? you played so well but something seems.. just up” you hope that shes not hiding anything from you. she can always tell you anything.

her body language immediately changes and becomes more closed off and she slightly stiffens at this. she coughs slightly, walking up to the car door and opening it for you. she sighs, “can we just talk- um,” she tiredly runs a hand over her forehead before continuing “yea.. when we get home baby?” you can tell shes burnt out and exhausted from such a long and physically demanding game so you just smile and comply. you know paige didnt mean to act this way after a game, but sometimes she was just too tired to function.

the car ride home was almost silent. you sat in the passenger seat, paiges hand resting on your thigh for the whole drive. you could tell she was being worked to her limits, and her body was paying the price.

as soon as you got to the apartment paige dragged you into the bedroom, slightly shoving you down onto the bed, climbing on-top of you. she watches you as she pushes you down onto the bed, loving how you’re so willing to do whatever she wants. “now… im going to use you like a good girl. you wouldnt mind that, would you?” she says out of nowhere, knowing youll fold under her gaze. she raises her eyebrows slightly waiting for a response, her smirk making your stomach churn. you swallow and shake your head slightly. “i dont mind.. arent you tired baby?” she grins as you say you think shes too tired. she climbs over you, straddling your hips and looking down at you from above. she gently pins your arms down to the bed. “oh I know you’ll enjoy it. you’re going to do whatever i say, right?”

you hesitate for a moment before nodding your head slightly. seeing paige like this, so dominant was something else. she can see the slight hesitation and grins knowing that you’re pushing your limits a bit. she leans down gently running her thumb against your cheek as she speaks gently in your ear. “good girl. its okay if you feel a little nervous, but you’ll do what i say, won’t you?” you look her in the eyes. her eyes arent the same ocean blue they usually are, but instead are a dark icy blue, trapping you under her gaze. “ill do anything” you whisper.

paige grins at your obedience loving how you say that youll do anything. she laughs softly her hands gently tracing up and down your waist. she leans down hovering over you and whispering into your ear. “good girl.. just relax for me. im going to make you feel so good. just be a good girl for me okay” she laughs again loving how you’re so obedient like this. she gently takes both of your wrists into one of her hands pinning them above your head. with her other hand, she gently runs it down the side of your body, going up under your shirt. “so quiet, huh? come on i want to hear your pretty noises…”

you let out a shakey sigh as her hand travels up you waist and goes under your shirt daring to travel upwards. her touch is already driving you insane. paige grins as she watches the reactions you let out to her touch. she slowly moves her hand up feeling the skin of your waist, your ribs, and finally up towards your bra. “oh just wait… ill have you making all kinds of noises by the end of this…” paiges dirty talk elicits a deep whine from the back of your throat. she laughs softly at your response, continuing to travel her hand up under your shirt gently running her cold fingers against the skin exposed from your bra, and stomach. “oh baby… this is only the start. youll take it for me, won’t you?” she grins, loving how weak you sound right now.

you shut your eyes and pulled your button lip between your teeth, nodding your head. “please, no- teasing” you manage to get out between gasps and deep breaths. she smirks, watching you struggle with holding back your reactions to her touch. she loves the way you look with your eyes shut, your lip between your teeth. “oh no no… i’m going to tease you. im going to make you squirm and beg for me…” she moves her hand back down to your waist, tracing her fingertips gently up and down your skin. “please paige, need it now i cant wait” you say, starting to get worked up over this unreleased tension.

she laughs softly, feeling the desperation in your voice as you say that you need it now. she moves her hand up to caress the side of your face, gently running her thumb over your cheek. “needy girl huh? so cute, you’ll have to be more patient baby. beg for it.” her words are cold, and her fingers are moving in slow teasing movements making your brain go fuzzy. “please paige, i need you now” you beg for her, craving her fingers, wanting her inside of you. you slowly rub your thighs together, hoping to create some friction. she watches your body as you squirm, loving how badly you are wanting her. she gently moves her hand up between your legs parting them, and going up to rub on your thighs. “oh I know you need it, but I want to hear you beg for it” she grins, knowing you’re going to crack soon.