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btsgotjams27 · 1 year ago

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the back-up plan | jjk

summary: one drunken night leads to an agreement that if you and jungkook are still single by 30, you'd marry each other. the only thing is jungkook has been doing everything he can to keep you single.

💖 title: the back-up plan | one-shot 💖 pairing: jungkook x f!reader | 💖 genre/au: romance, fluff / friends to lovers(?) 💖 rating: SFW | 18+ | 💖 word count: 18.1k | 💖 playlist 💖 warnings: jungkook & reader are both 29, reader is a hopeless romantic (what else is new with my characters?), jungkook is always pining and head over heels in love, jungkook is sweet and in luvrrr but he’s bad at feelings and tells some terrible lies (don’t hate him—ok!!), reader has a skewed view of relationships and what's expected of her, jungkook calls her wifey, hot and seggsy neighbor!namjoon (yes, pls), shirtless namjoon (2x), kissing, hand-holding, some suggestive language, mentions of erotic art and positions, first dates, alcohol consumption, reader has her belly button pierced, talks of tattoos & getting them, mentions of needles, and idk some things may come off as cheesy??? but it's a romance story so idk take what you will, light angst (you should know me by now!!), jungkook gets a lil drunk (pls drink responsibly), jealous jk comes out, love confessions 💖 a/n: the plot is a bit ridiculous, but that's the point! it's fiction (lol), i hope y'all enjoy it for what it is. the idea came from a tweet I saw, but ofc, I can't find it! so thank you to whoever tweeted it! and, happy birthday to the loml, jeon jungkook (this was supposed to be out for his birthday, but my brain said no). i also have to thank holly (@alphabetboyluvr). i respect her so much as a writer and friend, and I was super scared to ask her to even look at my outline, but she's always so sweet and willing. i couldn't have done this without her help, her comments, and suggestions <3 (i'd also recommend listening to the playlist while reading :)) and as always, i'd love to hear your thoughts 💖

sunday.

Another day has passed, and it’s creeping closer to your birthday. They’re supposed to be joyous, celebratory occasions–and you love feeling special, showered with love and gifts. What more could a person want?

But you had a clear goal before hitting the big 3-0: get married–or at least be engaged to be married.

Most girlfriends your age were still having fun, enjoying life, and not ready to settle down. You’re unsure if your upbringing or society’s expectations distorted you, but you were fond of marriage and finding the one to spend your life with.

You also blamed the hopeless romantic in you when you dragged every one of your girlfriends with you to see the new romantic comedy, giggled, and kicked your feet when reading the latest best-selling romance novel.

The thing was, you were so close to getting engaged. You and your boyfriend, Theo, of eight months–well, ex-boyfriend–discussed it openly from the beginning of your relationship. And not even two weeks ago, he broke up with you out of the blue and gave no clear explanation.

You sat in bed debating whether to download your old dating apps again. Your birthday was in six days, and you knew you wouldn’t find a suitable mate before your birthday, but at least you could try, right?

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:27 PM Happy ‘almost 30th’ birthday.

You 11:28 PM 😭😭😭

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:28 PM Are you still crying over Theodore Boner?

You 11:29 PM It’s Bonner, not boner!

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:29 PM 🤣🤣🤣 You were saved from that one. Imagine having the last name Boner.

You rolled your eyes at the text from Jungkook, throwing your phone beside you as you curled under your duvet.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo Incoming Video Call

“What do you want, Kook?”

“You gotta admit, ____ Boner sounds awful,” Jungkook laughed as he pushed back in his recliner.

“I’m hanging up!” you threatened, getting ready to push the end button.

"No, no! I'm kidding. You would've made a great Mrs. Boner."

"Bye–Kook."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm done, I promise."

"I had a whole plan. What am I supposed to do now? My birthday is in six days," you groaned, covering your face with the duvet.

"You don't remember our agreement, do you?"

You brought the cover down. Curious about his comment. "What agreement?"

💖💖💖

Before this most recent one, your ex, Jimin, had broken up with you, and you were on the rebound, looking for a good time. Jungkook came to the rescue, saving you from your next mistake. He took you out for drinks, let you drown in your sorrows, and the two of you got pretty drunk. You could only remember bits and pieces of your conversation.

“Let’s get married if we’re still single by 30,” Jungkook suggests.

“You wanna marry me? But I’m such a mess.”

Your dating life, career, friends, and family were fine.

“Yeah, why not. We get along. You seem a little kinky in bed and make a mean spaghetti dish.”

“Is that all I’m good for? Sex and spaghetti?”

“That sounds like a bad porn film waiting to happen. No, but I'm serious. If we're still single, let’s get married.”

You wave him off. “Kook, you’re drunk. You’re just saying whatever.”

“Yeah, I'm drunk, but I'm serious about this.”

He gets up, looks around, sees a straw wrapper, and ties it around your finger. He's on one knee before you.

“____, will you marry me? Hypothetically, of course, if we’re both still single by 30.”

You shake your head at your loveable friend. It was hard to say no. How could you?

“You’re so dumb.”

“See. You can write that in your vows,” Jungkook jokes, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, you are pretty cute, and I can stand being around you,” you tease.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

You smack his arm. “Is this how you’re wooing your future wife?”

“Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I can’t believe how beautiful my future wife is.”

You’re unsure if it’s the alcohol making you susceptible and vulnerable to your good friend asking you to marry him or if it was because you were on the rebound. But what’s the harm? If you couldn’t find someone by 30, then you’d get to marry a good friend.

“That's more like it. Why yes, Jeon Jungkook. I will marry you if I'm still single by 30.”

💖💖💖

You let out a cackle. “Oh shit–I agreed to that?”

Jungkook pouts and nods. “Sure did.”

But Jungkook’s messing around, right? He was a good friend and comforted you in your time of need. There’s no way he’d want to spend the rest of his life with you. Plenty of suitable women were fawning over him, and now you’ve noticed you've never seen him with a girlfriend.

“You’re–you’re not serious, are you?” You stumble over your words, going into panic mode.

Why would Jeon Jungkook choose you, of all people, to want to marry? He could have anyone at any time.

No, you shook off the thought. You couldn’t lock him into a loveless marriage.

Jungkook licks his lips, tongue flicking his lip ring back and forth.

You shifted in bed and cleared your throat. “Aren’t you seeing that one girl?”

It wasn’t hard to notice when she practically hung onto him like a lovesick puppy.

Jungkook makes a face, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s nothing serious.”

You give him a blank expression. “Nothing serious? Kook, she’s practically foaming at the mouth and shooting heart eyes when you’re around.”

Jungkook chuckles. “That could be you, too.”

You narrow your eyes, glaring at him.

“Just saying,” he adds.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to get in the way if it is serious.” You surely didn’t want to become a homewrecker.

He waves his hand. “Oh, no, no, no. I don’t back down from promises I make.”

Your lips turn into a pout, and you tilt your head, wondering why he’d ditch Clingy Chloe and commit to a drunken promise. “What’s in it for you?”

He seems offended by your question, so he scoffs. “I mean, I’m just trying to save you from a future where you’re an old lady with 50 cats, collecting newspapers that pile up from the floor to the ceiling, and then you show up on an episode of Hoarders.”

You chuckle. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“You’re not?” he questions hesitantly.

“I mean, marriage is a pretty serious thing, and we’re friends getting married because we have no one else?” The sentiment seems ridiculous once you say it aloud.

“What? You don’t think I'll be a good husband?”

“No, I didn't say that. I think you’d be a great one, actually.”

“Then, what’s the problem? Don’t think you can handle me?” Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes at your cocky friend. “I don’t know, Kook. What if I meet someone, or what if you meet someone?”

“You don’t think I can make you fall in love with me?” he asks, ignoring your question.

Your nose scrunches, and you laugh. “No.”

“Oh, well, that sounds like a challenge, and you’re lucky I love a little competition.”

He’s not going to let this go, is he?

You settle into the plush of your pillows. “Okay–tell you what, if you can make me fall in love with you within the week, I’ll consider marrying you.”

What would you have to lose? Being wined and dined by a cute guy? What girl would pass up this opportunity?

“Deal.”

💖💖💖

monday.

Your everyday routine consists of rolling out of bed, logging into work, checking your emails, and then sitting on the couch until you get a support ticket from someone who forgot their password for the umpteenth time.

It’s a great gig, and now you’re glad you went into the right field of work.

You’re on your random binge of rewatching The Fast and the Furious saga. Your friends always make fun of you, but you can’t help it. It’s a guilty pleasure of yours.

“You got some sexy legs. When do they open?” Roman says with a grin.

You burst out laughing. The dialogue is so bad, yet somehow, these movies keep getting made. You must be the target audience.

The doorbell rings and it’s 8:30 AM. Who is here this early? You didn’t buy anything online while you were drunk, did you?

You peek through the viewfinder, and it’s blocked by something yellow. You can’t see the delivery person’s face when you open the door.

“Special delivery for ___,” the person says in a deep voice.

“That’s me.”

And out from behind the flowers, Jeon Jungkook pops out. “Happy birthday week,” he says in a sing-song voice.

Your heart settles when you realize it's your friend or future husband. “What are you doing here?”

You notice two grocery bags on the ground next to him. He hands you the flowers and picks them up.

“What do you think I’m doing here?” He raises his eyebrow, scanning you from head to toe.

Real clothes and makeup don’t exist when you're working from home.

“Cute slippers,” he points out as you stare at your fluffy white bunny slippers.

You sigh, grabbing his arm to drag him into your apartment. As you’re about to close the door, you notice moving boxes outside the apartment next to yours. Hmm, someone new must be moving in.

“Is this what you look like underneath all that makeup?” he asks, making himself comfortable in your kitchen. The two bags are on the counter, and he’s going through the cupboards to find a vase.

“Top left above the sink,” you say.

He opens the cupboard, retrieving a clear vase.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting company. Otherwise, I would’ve put on some decent clothing.”

And a bra, you think as you cross your arms, covering your chest.

Jungkook shakes his head. “You look good in anything, and with or without makeup. You’ll be my future wifey, so there’s no need to look for good me. We can just be comfortable with each other, right?”

You purse your lips and raise an eyebrow. He’s serious about this, isn’t he? You suppose you wouldn’t mind playing along to see how far he would go.

A man ready and willing to commit to marriage? You must be living in your romantic film.

You nod. “Right, we’re friends, possibly moving onto more than friends–well, actually, straight to marriage,” you chuckle, "but I’ve always felt comfortable around you, Kook.”

He flashes a warm smile. “Good, then everything will be easy, peasy lemon squeezy.”

He’s cute, you think.

“I hope you like mimosas,” he says as he unloads the groceries from the bags.

Bread, eggs, bacon, strawberries, orange juice, and champagne.

“Are you making me breakfast?” you question, narrowing your eyes at the man in the yellow beanie and white Nike shirt.

“Consider it your birthday breakfast, wifey,” he jokes, peering in your cupboards for a pan.

“Right side next to the oven.”

“Ah, I gotta remember this if I’m gonna be cooking here more often.” He whistles, setting the pan on the stove.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Don’t you have to work today?”

“Nah–called in sick. It’s my wife’s birthday week. I have to shower her with all the love.” He wiggles his eyebrows and puckers his lips.

It’s funny to see Jeon Jungkook act this way. He’s always been playful and flirty the two years you’ve known him, but this must’ve been his way of pulling out all his cards of wooing a woman.

💖💖💖

“Breakfast is ready,” Jungkook yells from the kitchen.

A support ticket from work came through, distracting you from your movie and Jungkook.

“‘Kay! Almost done.” You recheck your work emails, ensuring everything is complete.

This time, you put on a bra, change into a decent shirt, and put on a skin tint and blush to make yourself look alive.

You stroll into the kitchen, and Jungkook perfectly displays the sunflowers on the counter and two delicious breakfast plates. The champagne flutes are filled to the brim and topped off with a beautifully sliced strawberry.

“Thanks, Kook. This looks so yummy.”

He flashes a smile. “Anytime.”

The two of you sit beside each other, digging into the breakfast spread.

“What’s that one movie you wanted to watch again?” Jungkook asks before he sips his mimosa.

Your mouth is full, and you chew quickly to answer him. “The one on Netflix?” He hums. “Wedding Season.”

“Sounds like the perfect movie for us to watch this week.”

“You’re into rom-coms?”

“I love ‘em.”

“Shut up. You’re teasing me now.”

“I don’t know why you never ask me to watch them, but you’ll ask the girls.”

You look down at your food before catching his gaze. “I didn’t think you’d be into them, so I never asked. And you don’t seem like the hopeless romantic type.”

“I mean, growing up, I wasn’t. My parents didn’t have a fairytale romance, so I didn’t believe in love for a long time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So, someone must’ve changed your mind then?”

He hums, not wanting to admit who made it an exception.

You nudge his arm. “Are you gonna tell me, or will I have to pry it out of you?”

He chuckles, not saying a word.

You scoff. “You’re not gonna tell me? Keeping secrets from your wife already? Rude,” you tut.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he replies.

The two of you finish breakfast, and Jungkook insists on doing the dishes. You set your plate in the sink and clutch onto his arm, tiptoeing to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

💖💖💖

tuesday.

You take the morning off to run errands for your upcoming birthday extravaganza. And you’re struggling to hit the lock button on your keypad while holding a heavy box of birthday decor.

When you finally hear the whirring of the lock and chime, you turn around, bumping into someone, dropping your box, and knocking over a handful of books.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there,” you say, quickly picking up as many books as possible, and he picks up your birthday decor.

The man reaches for the pink heart-shaped sunglasses and other pink-colored decor. “Someone must be celebrating big,” the man’s dimpled smile displayed.

Your fingers accidentally touch his when you switch his books for your decor. You clear your throat, trying not to ogle the man. “Um, yeah, it’s for my birthday.”

He perks up. “Oh?” He flashes a thin smile. “Happy birthday.”

A breath gets caught in your throat, and you struggle to get any words out. “Uh, my birthday is actually on Saturday,” you finally croak out. “But, you must be my new neighbor.”

“Yeah, I’m Namjoon. I just moved in this past weekend.”

Oh, this is bad. Really bad.

He’s tall, has beautiful tanned skin and blonde hair, and you could live in his dimples.

“It’s–it’s nice to meet you.”

“Sorry about bumping into you, and it’s nice to meet you too. I hope you have a good birthday,” he says before picking up one last book on the ground.

“Are you doing anything this weekend? You can come if you want.”

After you ask, you want to kick yourself in the bum. Inviting a man you just met. What if he’s a weirdo? But how can he be if he’s reading ‘A Bigger Message Conversations with David Hockney.’ You may have managed to peek at one of his books.

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding! I’m inviting you, and you can’t say no to the birthday girl,” you tease, adjusting the box in your arms.

A low chuckle escaped his lips. “You’re right. It’d be messed up to say no to the birthday girl.”

“So, you’ll come?” you ask, and a smile grows from ear to ear.

He nods. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

The two of you exchange information before you leave to finish your errands. You’re beaming down the street while carrying your box of decor.

You didn’t expect to find someone cute and endearing so quickly. And you’re surprised he said yes to your party. Maybe he’s new in town and wants to make friends. It would be a good way for him to get acquainted, and a part of you hoped you’d keep bumping into him in the halls.

💖💖💖

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:27 AM Wanna do a movie night today? We could watch Wedding Season.

You 11:30 AM Sounds like a date.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:35 AM Is 6 okay? I can bring dinner too.

You 11:36 AM That sounds perfect.

It's six on the dot, and you hear a knock on your door. You suppose Jungkook is the type to show up right on time, which you greatly appreciate.

He holds a six-pack of beer and a pizza box when you open the door.

"Ready for movie night?"

It’s halfway through the film, and you’re enjoying it. You love the fake dating trope because you could always count on the two mains to fall for each other.

"Are you cold?" Jungkook asks when he sees you tuck your hands in between your thighs.

"Yeah, kind of."

"Come here."

He opens his arm to cuddle, and you blink expressionless at him. The most intimate thing you’ve done with him is hug him–a side hug.

He laughs when you don’t move. “What? Scared I’ll bite?”

“No—it’s just that cuddling is an intimate thing to do,” you admit.

Arms and legs become entangled. Bodies are warming up against each other. Possibilities of things progressing.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Do you have a throw blanket somewhere?” He looks around and sees a woven basket next to the couch. He grabs a white fluffy throw for you.

Jungkook gives you an out, and for that, you’re grateful.

“Thanks,” you say as you snuggle in the blanket.

He flashes a small smile. “No problem.”

Even though you rejected Jungkook’s invitation to cuddle, somehow, by the end of the movie, the two of you had fallen asleep—cuddling.

You didn’t pull away from him yet. You peered up at him, watching his chest rise and fall. Light snores escape his lips, and now and again, he puffs out a breath like a whale coming up for air, making you chuckle.

You rest your chin on his chest, giving yourself a few seconds to enjoy this before waking him up.

“Kook,” you whisper, gently shaking him. “Kook,” you repeat.

He hums, popping his head up while his eyes are still closed. He flutters them open and immediately sits up, wiping the drool that’s dried on his chin. He clears his throat. “Um—how long was I asleep for?”

You giggle. “We both fell asleep. I blame the beer,” you say, stretching your arms.

Jungkook can’t help but notice the shiny piece of jewelry hanging from your navel. “You have your belly button pierced?” he asks with a raised brow.

You quickly pull down your shirt. “It was a dumb thing I did when I turned 21.”

“It’s cute.”

You shy away from his comment. At times, you forget you have it.

“What else are you hiding, hm?” Jungkook asks.

You scoff. “Nothing. I only have my ears and my belly button pierced.”

“No tattoos?”

Tattoos are cool on other people, and you toyed with the idea of getting one. You were indecisive about what to get.

You shook your head no. “Maybe one day.”

“Get one for your 30th. I’ll go with you. I know a guy,” he teases, pointing out the ink on his skin.

“You gonna hold my hand the entire time?”

He grins. “Anything for the wifey.”

A tattoo, huh? You’ve always wanted to see how high your pain threshold was. “I’ll think about it.”

“Just let me know, and I’ll get an appointment with the guy I always go to. I only trust him.”

Jungkook stands, proceeding to clean up the mess you two made.

“Oh, no. Leave it. I’ll clean it up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s late. We should get some sleep.”

He looks at the clock. It’s nearly midnight, and he still needs to wash up.

You walk him to the door, holding it open for him to leave. “Kook?”

Jungkook turns to you. “Yeah?”

You’re unsure what comes over you, but you pull him in for a hug. Only this time, it doesn’t feel like a friendly hug. It takes a moment for him to register what’s happening, then he wraps his arms around you. Every ounce of his body presses against yours, and you fit perfectly into him like a puzzle piece. His fresh, clean scent invades your nose, and you wish it could linger for a bit longer while his hand snakes to the nape of your neck, fingers curling in your hair.

Why do you feel more vulnerable when sleeping next to him now than earlier? Is it because you’re awake and aware of your intentions? The question was, what were your intentions? Did you want this? Did you really want him?

You withdrew from the embrace, bidding him farewell. He gives a small wave before disappearing into the elevator.

As you enter your apartment and shut the door, you repeatedly knocked the back of your head against it, muttering, ‘fuck.’ You were playing along to see how far Jungkook would go before calling it quits, but you failed to see that maybe—just maybe you could be falling too.

Hoseok’s minding his business, eating his ramen when he sees his roommate walk in. Jungkook looks like he’s floating on cloud nine, beaming from ear to ear. There’s even a hop in his step. He twirls around, daintily sitting beside Hoseok.

Hoseok scans his friend, watching him as he breathes a happy sigh and stares into the distance.

“What’s going on with you?” He raises a brow and narrows his eyes.

Jungkook giggles and scrunches his shoulders. “I just came back from cuddling with ___,” he says as he continues in his reveries.

“Oh, boy. Everyone, can I please have your attention,” Hoseok cups his mouth into a megaphone, “Jeon Jungkook has officially gone off the deep end. He thinks being delulu is the solulu.”

Jungkook glares at his friend and kicks him under the table. “Yah–aren’t you supposed to be rooting for me?”

Hoseok slurps his noodles. “Of course, I’m rooting for you. You’re my best bud,” he says as he places a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” he pats Hoseok’s hand. “Now–be an even better friend, and let me raid your closet for ___’s party.”

Jungkook lies in bed; his bicep flexes when he moves his hand behind his head. He’s watching an array of colors flash across the vastness of his room. The northern lights and stars twirl and sparkle like the movements of butterflies and the ones milling around his stomach for days.

Is this what being in love feels like, he thinks. It’s like he’s living in the romance movies he’s watched. Boy meets girl, boy, and girl fall in love, and they live happily ever after.

This is it. This must be it. His chance to be with you–the one he’s fallen completely head over heels for.

If the Jungkook from four years ago were to see him today, he’d laugh and call him a simp, especially with how he’s at your beck and call.

But the Jungkook, from four years ago, was a cynic. He had no healthy or loving relationships around him until he met you through Hoseok. And, even though you were with someone at the time, he saw how kind and wonderful you were to your friends and could only imagine the kind of love you’d show toward someone special.

There were only a few more days until your party, and he was determined to make each day count.

wednesday.

Since Monday, Jungkook has surprised you every day with a gift. They were his attempts to make you fall in love with you, along with his random trips to your place.

Today’s gift was a pair of pink seashell earrings. Jungkook tells you he spent hours making it from clay, then baked them in the oven. You shook your head, wondering how he got an idea like this. Nonetheless, it was a sweet gift.

He texted throughout the day, leaving cute words of encouragement or sending TikToks of funny videos he’d find. Maybe this was his love language, taking the time out of his day to let you know he’s thinking about you.

As your day winds down, you’re scrolling through YouTube, and what catches your eye at 7 p.m.? Dessert videos.

And that’s your worst toxic trait—thinking you can bake. It always looks easy enough. If they can do it, so can you.

That is, until you’re in the kitchen, halfway through a recipe, and notice you’re out of sugar. The grocery store is too far and will close when you get there.

See what happens when you decide to bake? It always goes differently than you want.

You could call Jungkook to see if he has any or walk over to your new neighbor’s place. The latter was plausible since Namjoon was only a few feet away.

You shook off the nerves, flattened your apron, and lightly knocked on Namjoon’s door. You could hear shuffling as he unlocked it.

Your eyes widened, standing like a deer caught in headlights. Namjoon’s half-naked, black shorts hung dangerously low on his waist. His forehead is glistening with sweat.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” you ask while trying to keep your gaze in line with his and not ogling his chiseled body.

Shit—maybe he had company over.

He cards his hand through his platinum blonde hair, but a few pieces fall back, covering his eyes. “No, you’re good. I just finished working out. What’s up?” he asks. His hand holds the door open as he leans against it.

You’re dumbfounded, unable to form words again. It’s like a giant hairball stuck in your throat.

Namjoon’s brows raise, and he calls out to you.

“Oh, sorry!” you say. “I’m attempting to bake a cake but I'm out of sugar. I wanted to ask if you have any I can borrow.”

“I think I do,” he ponders as he steps back. “Come in. Come in.”

You step into a squeaky clean apartment. Didn’t he just move in? How does someone unpack so quickly? Or maybe he had little to begin with.

His apartment was like a museum, with pottery, sculptures, and art prints adorning his walls and shelves. But what catches your attention is the translucent, cylindrical coffee table. It doesn’t seem like anyone should be putting anything on it.

Namjoon stands beside you, holding a jar of sugar.

“Ah, thank you so much! Now my cake batter won’t go to waste.”

“Anything catch your fancy?” he asks.

Granted, this man is still half-naked, standing beside you. You’re trying not to go feral over how broad and built he is.

“This, actually,” you point to the glass coffee table.

“That’s probably one of my most prized possessions.”

“It looks expensive.” You’d later come to find out it was worth $1.2M after you did an internet search.

“It is,” he chuckles. “It’s on loan from a friend.”

“On loan?” you ask, turning to him. Your eyes narrow and lips thin. “Can I ask what you do for work?”

“I’m an art curator.”

That makes sense now, considering the expensive and extensive art collection.

“Oh—you’re so fancy,” you tease. “I don’t know shit about art.” You could stand before a painting and feel nothing while looking at it. Maybe you were just going in with the wrong mindset.

Namjoon chuckles. “You can always ask me questions,” he notes before walking away to put on a t-shirt.

You’re a bit disappointed that you can’t ogle him anymore.

“Well, I can’t ask you questions if you don’t take me to a museum,” you flirt, turning toward him.

He grins, showing off his pearly whites and dimple deeply etched into his left cheek. “Are you asking me to ask you out on a date?”

You can’t help but play dumb. “Oh no, of course not! I would like your expertise to guide me around a museum, and if we happen to eat afterward, then I don’t know—would you call that a date?”

Namjoon licks his lips and nods, impressed by your boldness. “Are you busy Friday night?”

The cake wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either. You’d have to keep perfecting it and maybe keep asking to ‘borrow’ some sugar from your neighbor.

You debated whether you should tell Jungkook about your date with Namjoon. It’s a harmless date; Jungkook would be off the hook if it goes well. Besides, it’s a silly agreement you two made up while drunk.

But, you’d sleep on it and figure it out tomorrow. There was one more day before the date anyway.

As you were sitting in bed, doing your nightly scrolling through social media. A video call comes through.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo Incoming Video Call

You're on your side when you answer his call. “Hey, Kook,” you say before covering a yawn.

“Ready for bed?” he asks, shuffling underneath his duvet.

Your eyes scan the screen, and you notice his bare shoulders and collarbone on display. You never realized his tattooed sleeve reached so high on his arm, scantily kissing the top of his shoulder.

You cleared your throat. "Yeah, about to call it a night. What's up?"

"I just wanted to call and see how your day was. I was busy at work, so I didn't get to text you," he says.

Now that you think about it, the last text you received from him was this morning. And since the start of your little agreement, Jungkook has been texting and calling more than usual.

"I worked, then attempted to bake a cake."

He props the phone against something as he lies on his side, and parts of his hair still look damp from a shower. And you hate how cuddly he looks while he’s in bed and how you can see how much he works out just from the outline of his arms.

And no—you aren’t thinking about anything else.

"How'd it turn out?"

You shook your head in disgust. "Not very good."

"Ah, I'm sure it was great."

"I'll stick to store-bought cake for now."

"Next time, we can do it together and fail."

He wants to do everything with you, huh?

You chuckle at his comment and then say what’s on your mind, "I never realized how far your tattoo sleeve went up."

He peers at his shoulder. "Oh yeah," he leans forward to show you, his bicep flexing as he moves.

"Cool guy."

He chuckles. "Hardly cool. Just bored," he says. "So, should I schedule you for your tattoo?"

Since the last conversation, you've been scrolling through Pinterest and Instagram to get some ideas.

"I think I want the birth flower for September."

Jungkook shows you his arm, pointing to his tiger lily tattoo. "This one is for the actual day of birth, but the flower for the month of September is pretty too. Have you thought about placement?"

"Mm, maybe on the back of my neck or the inside of my arm. What do you think?" You show him your arm, then the back of your neck.

"It would look great on the back of your neck. It could be a nice surprise when you have your hair up."

"Oh–I like that idea."

He props himself up on the side with a wide grin. "So, I'm booking your appointment?"

You chuckle. "Yeah, why not? We only live once, right?"

Turning 30 is making your confidence go up.

“Once you get one, you’ll want more. Trust me.”

“At least I’ll have a tattoo buddy for life,” you tease.

“Ah, see, I like the way you’re thinking. Well, I should let my wifey get to sleep,” he gives a small smile. He reaches for his phone, placing it on his chest. His other hand is behind his head as he watches you through the screen.

You hum in agreement. “Night.”

“Night.”

Daydreams are one thing, and when Jungkook lies in bed, he can't help but wonder.

Wonder how you’d look in his favorite t-shirt. Wonder which side of the bed you prefer. Wonder if you dream of him, too. Wonder what it’s like to be loved by you.

Jungkook doesn’t want to wonder anymore; he wants to make you his reality.

thursday.

The birthday festivities started early for you as you requested today and tomorrow off. There’s no way you’re spending your last few days of being 29 stuck at work.

Today’s agenda consisted of a pedicure. The toes have to look cute with your new heels, and as you’re ready to head out to your appointment, Jungkook is at your door when you open it.

You tilt your head, knitting your eyebrows together. “Did we have something planned?”

He shakes his head no and pouts. “No, I wanted to surprise you with another gift.”

He hands you a gift bag, and you take a small peek, reaching down to grab the gift. You pull out a peach-shaped heart bath bomb.

“Peach?” You raise a brow and give a smug grin. “What makes you think I like peach?”

Jungkook snorts. “Oh, pfft–I don’t know. Could it be all the candles or soap? Or how you always order any type of peach-flavored alcohol? Tea? Or–”

You suck in your lips, then give a thin smile. “Son of a peach.”

“Very cute. You’re also great at fruit puns. I’ll add that to the list of reasons why I like you,” he chuckles.

To be fair, everything in your apartment had a hint of peach–your candles, air freshener, hand soap, ChapStick, and not to mention a cupboard full of peach tea.

You chuckle. “Thanks, Kook. You didn’t have to.”

“I do if I’m trying to make you fall in love with me.”

You set the bath bomb back in its bag, then on the entryway table. You close the door behind you, forcing him to step back.

“You talk a lot about making me fall in love with you, but you’ve still failed to do so. It’s almost my birthday,” you tease.

What girl wouldn’t want gifts, but you thought he’d push a bit harder.

Jungkook smirks, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He steps closer to you–close enough for you to smell his cologne. It’s a fresh, clean scent.

He’s inches away from you. Warmth is radiating off of him. Your heart is practically beating out of your chest. Your eyes are on his, then focus on his lip ring, then the freckle underneath his bottom lip. It’s the first time you’ve been close enough to notice it.

His eyes dart back and forth between yours. His tongue wets his lips, then plays with his ring. “I’m just getting started,” he says.

You close your eyes, fluttering them back open. There’s relief escaping your body once he backs away.

“So, what are we doing today?” he asks, stepping out of the way to let you lead.

“I have a pedicure appointment. Wanna come?” you ask. You wouldn’t mind having company around, and you’re curious how he’ll continue to sweep you off your feet.

You feel bad for the poor woman who has Jungkook in her seat, and you’re trying your best not to laugh as he’s squirming, clutching onto the armrests.

You clear your throat. “Is this your first pedicure?”

“What? No,” he counters, but he’s giggling non-stop, holding on for dear life.

“Sir–I need you to stop moving,” the woman warns.

You cover your mouth. Your shoulders are bouncing due to your giggles. “Kook, she hasn’t even done anything to you yet.”

“How the hell do women do this? This is torture.”

“Can’t handle a little torture?”

He perks up, shaking off the chills. The woman continues to scrub his feet with a pumice stone. He’s sucking in his lips, trying not to laugh and smile when she gets to the underside of his foot. Then his reflexes get the best of him, and he almost kicks her.

The woman gives him a blank expression but is professional and continues as fast as possible.

An hour later, Jungkook is coming out of the nail salon, sweating bullets from the endless torture of a pedicure.

You look at him and then his toes. “At least your toes are cute.” He let you choose the color, and you had to choose hot pink to match your birthday theme for this weekend.

He does the walk of shame in a pair of yellow flimsy flip-flops because he wasn’t prepared for a pedicure. You’ve been there, done that.

You link your arms to him when you catch up to him. “Hungry?”

Jungkook groans in delight. “You have to try this.”

He leans forward. A piece of his roasted chicken ravioli covered in pink sauce looks delectable. You open your mouth, devouring the pasta. You close your eyes, savoring it.

“See, what did I tell you?” He smiles, going back to his bowl of food. “How’s yours?”

You didn’t want to say you didn’t like it–but you hate it. “It’s good,” you smile and lie through your teeth.

You begin moving the ravioli around, pretending to make it look like you'll eat it.

Jungkook sets his fork down, pushing his bowl toward you. “Here, take mine.”

You look up at him. “What? No–I like my food,” you lie again, grabbing your bowl and clutching it closer to you.

He deadpans. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you don’t like something. Come on, I’ll finish your food, and you can have mine.”

You let go of your bowl. “Are you sure?”

Jungkook smiles warmly, his small dimple on display as he nods. He grabs your bowl and begins to eat it.

Your heart softens, and you’re enchanted by your friend/potential future husband, so it pains you to have this conversation. You tossed and turned the night before because you couldn’t bear the thought of locking your friend into something he'll regret later on.

“So, you might not have to marry me,” you say.

Jungkook looks up at you, tilting his head in confusion. “Damn, someone beat me to it?” he jokes.

You flash a thin smile and shake your head no. “Well, I have a crush on my new neighbor.”

He raises an eyebrow. “New neighbor?”

You nod. “Yeah, he just moved in.”

Jungkook nibbles on the inside of his mouth then continues to eat. “You barely know the guy, and you’re already tossing me aside?” He tuts, shaking his head.

“I’m–I’m not tossing you aside. You’re still an option, but I’m just saying if it works out with the new neighbor, then you’re off the hook. I'm sure there are better girls out there than me, Kook. You don’t want to be married to me.”

He sets his fork down, pushing his bowl forward. “Well, what can I say? You can’t see the guy?”

“So, you’re okay if I see him?”

Jungkook hesitates to answer. “Mm,” he hums with a nod.

“Are you upset with me?”

“Why would I be upset?” He shrugs. “I’m only a back-up.”

His answer gives you a sense of relief, but you also feel guilty about everything. “Should we end our little deal? That way, you don’t have to be stuck with me for the rest of your life. It seems silly now that we’re both sober and not drunk making promises like this.”

He hums and nods again. “You’re right. It does seem foolish.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin. "I'll go pay while you finish up."

You watch him get up and walk to the register. His demeanor changes as soon as you mention ending the deal.

Is he serious about this?

Honestly, you’re stumped by Jeon Jungkook and his intentions. If he did like you, why not ask you out like an average person? Why go through the trouble of marrying you? So that you could fulfill some silly goal you had for your life?

“I’ll walk you up,” Jungkook says as he turns off the car.

“It’s fine, Kook. You don’t have to,” you counter.

On the ride back, guilt has been eating you from the inside out. You’re unsure why you feel this way–maybe because you feel like a shitty friend. Saying one thing and then doing another.

But again, marriage is a serious thing for two people to consider.

Jungkook doesn’t waver in his decision and escorts you anyway. The silence is deafening in the elevator; the two of you stand at opposite sides, stealing glances. There’s an elephant in the room, but neither of you addresses it.

When the elevator doors open, you expel the caught breath in your throat. Jungkook follows a few steps behind you.

“Are we okay?” you ask, glancing at him before lowering your head.

He stuffs his hand in his pants pocket. “Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know. I feel like an ass because you’ve been such a good friend–especially after my breakups. And then this past week, you’ve been sweet and cute with all the little gifts and hangouts,” you pause to look at him.

His eyes are big and innocent, and his lips form a slight pout. He’s intently listening to your words.

“I’m trying to say I’ve enjoyed being with you this week, and I’m sorry how things turned out,” you manage to spit out.

Jungkook nibbles on his lip, showing off his pretty dimple. His eyes dart to yours as he flashes a thin smile. “Well, I’ll always be your back-up if this guy doesn’t work out.”

You breathe a sigh of relief that he can still joke about this situation. You close the distance between you, reaching up and draping your arms around his neck.

It takes a moment for him to return your hug, but he does–wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing you into him. He nuzzles in the crook of your shoulder, taking in your sweet scent and softness.

Your heart’s fluttering, your stomach is somersaulting and doing back-flips. Jungkook’s warmth is all-encompassing, encapsulating every fiber of your being. Neither of you let go, allowing this embrace to go longer than usual friends do.

When you pull away, your lips are so close to his. Close enough to explore what they taste like. Close enough to see how plush they are. Close enough to find out just how much you’d have to gasp for air afterward.

You almost want to give in. You almost want to see where this could go. You almost want him to make a move.

Jungkook whispers your name, and you hum, gazing into his eyes. “Are you sure about this? About the deal? You don’t want it anymore?”

You're becoming lost in the stars and galaxies contained in those doe eyes. Jungkook doesn’t lose focus, doesn’t break character, and doesn’t give you a chance to run away.

“This stops when you say so,” he utters softly.

He’s unrelenting, you think. He wants this, doesn’t he? He wants you.

So these next few words sting. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Jungkook doesn’t even realize when he’s outside his apartment complex. He sits in his car, zoning out. He’s so close to finally getting you, but now there’s someone else?

For two years, he’s been trying to buck up the courage and finally ask you out, and when he finally gets an opportunity, someone always swoops in and steals you away.

When he proposed the agreement, it was more of a joke, that is, until you agreed, and that’s when he knew he’d try whatever it took to get you to the altar.

A knock on Jungkook’s window breaks him from deep thought. He looks up to see his roommate, Hoseok.

He gestures for Jungkook to roll his window down. “Why do you look like you're on the verge of crying? Why don’t you go up to the apartment?”

Jungkook holds onto the steering wheel and groans as his head hits it a few times, muttering, ‘Stupid.’

Hoseok knits his eyebrows in confusion as he rubs his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go,” he says, opening the car door.

Jungkook drags his feet through the threshold and drops his backpack on the floor. He continues walking sluggishly, plopping on the couch, still in a daze.

Hoseok blinks at his friend. “What’s going on?”

“You know how I was trying to make ____ fall in love with me this week?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, she likes her new neighbor.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “There's a new guy already? I swear this girl must have some kind of bat signal that’s beaming up into the sky that attracts men the second she’s single.”

Jungkook drops his head back, then rubs his face. “What am I going to do?”

Hoseok shrugs. “Maybe tell her how serious you are about being with her.”

“Yeah, but what if she doesn’t want to be with me?”

“So, you’re going to trap her in a marriage instead?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Make it make sense, my friend.”

Maybe that's what he wanted. It could be like an arranged marriage. Meet first, then fall in love.

“I know it sounds ridiculous!”

Hoseok rubs Jungkook’s shoulder. “This whole deal is ridiculous. Be honest with her, then she’ll have to choose between you and the new guy.”

He knows Hoseok is right. He should be honest and tell you how he feels.

Or he could get rid of the new guy, and the deal would be back on.

Decisions. Decisions.

friday.

Jungkook was determined to make this agreement work out in his favor. He wasn’t going to back down so easily.

He took off early from work, going straight to your favorite bakery to grab a cake. Thoughts are racing through his mind as he clutches the cake box and walks through the crowded street.

What if this was his last chance? What if this new guy was ‘the one’ for you? He couldn’t let you slip away again.

He’s even prepared a monologue. He’s mumbling it under his breath when he arrives at your door.

When the door opens, he doesn’t find you. Instead, he finds a half-naked man with broad shoulders and impeccable pecs.

Jungkook stands tall and puffs out his chest, back straight, when he sees this unknown man. His mouth is agape as he scans him from head to toe. Was this the guy you were talking about?

He clears his throat and stands his ground. “Oh, uh, who are you?”

“Hey, man. I’m Namjoon. ___’s neighbor,” he says.

“I’ll be right out!” you yell from the other room.

Jungkook clenches his jaw, and he’s trying to calm his nerves. There’s no way you were sleeping with this guy already, right? No, you can’t be, Jungkook shakes the thought from his head.

You sprint from the hallway, holding a shirt. With your clumsy ways, you spilled iced coffee on Namjoon’s shirt right before your date. You felt bad, so you offered to wash it for him.

“Namjoon, I’m so sorry! I’ve tried everything to get it out. I might have to buy you a new shirt–oh,” you gasp. “Hi, Jungkook.”

Jungkook walks in, setting the box down, and he doesn’t say anything else as he leans against the counter, watching you two.

Namjoon sucks in his lips, strolling to your side, looking at his stained shirt. “Don’t worry about it. It was time to get rid of that shirt anyway.” He gives a reassuring smile. “I’m gonna grab a new shirt, then we’ll be on our way?”

You hum. “See you soon.”

Jungkook’s eyes follow you and Namjoon as you bid him farewell. You lower your head and purse your lips when you approach Jungkook.

“Date night?” he asks, turning to you.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you from your date. Just wanted to drop off a cake I picked up for you,” he points to the box on the counter.

You see the bakery's name on the box, and it’s from your favorite place. You undo the tabs and unfold the box to reveal a heart-shaped cake with various shades of baby pink and blue, then sitting prettily on top is one of your favorite Sanrio characters: Cinnamoroll.

“Kook–you didn’t just pick this up.” A cake like this was ordered well in advance.

His eyebrows rise, and he gives a half-smile. He walks beside you. “Happy early birthday,” he says as his eyes flick to yours. “See you tomorrow.”

When the door shuts, you wince.

Namjoon has a brilliant mind, and that intimidates you. He's far too intelligent and reasonable for a hopeless romantic who lives in their daydreams and wants a ring on their finger by tomorrow.

The two of you come to a crowded spot in the museum. You look back and smile at Namjoon. He puts his hands on your waist, guiding you from behind. Your stomach somersaults from the affection, but you continue leading the way through the sea of people, trying not to focus on it.

An announcement reminds museum go-ers that they’ll be closing in 15 minutes.

“Should we head out soon?” you ask with disappointment. You thoroughly enjoyed hearing Namjoon talk even though you had nothing insightful to say about the numerous art pieces.

The corners of his mouth curve up. “But we have one more exhibit to see,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. He holds out his hand for yours.

You’re intrigued, so you don’t question and place your hand in his.

Everyone starts to file out toward the exit, but the two of you enter an exhibit hidden away in the back.

“Aren’t we going to get in trouble?” you ask.

He chuckles. “You’re cute,” he says before showing you his work ID and security badge.

“Oh,” you giggle. It makes sense. Namjoon did say he was an ‘art curator.’ He just never mentioned where he worked.

“Feel free to look around and tell me if anything catches your eye.”

You take your time, roaming around, going from piece to piece. Namjoon stays in place, waiting until you’ve found something. You tilt your head, examining the drawing.

[ frida castelli, milan ]

It's a woman. Her back is bare, and she's curling her hands into the bedsheets. The drawing is cut off right at the small of her back, and one can assume the rest. It's erotic–as this exhibit displays various works from modern artists.

Namjoon stands beside you. “Thoughts?”

Horny, you think, but considering this is your first date. You probably shouldn’t blurt it out.

“I like the position she's in,” you say, and Namjoon chokes on nothing. You cover your mouth and can’t help but laugh.

“I like that position too,” he adds.

You try to suppress your smile because now, you’re thinking about the two of you in that position.

"Should we keep looking?"

After a late-night dinner, you’re standing outside your door, not wanting to say goodbye to Namjoon. You’d invite him in, but tomorrow’s a big day, and you have an early wake-up call.

“I hope I was able to answer your questions,” Namjoon says, leaning his shoulder against the door, facing you.

You give him a small smile, looking at the floor, then back up at him. "I think you answered everything."

He hums and parts his lips. "Well, I have one question for you, if that's okay."

You nod.

"Can I give the birthday girl a kiss?"

You lick your lips. "It's not my birthday yet."

Namjoon steps forward, scanning your face. "You can consider it an early birthday present."

"Well, I won't say no to a birthday present."

Your heart is swooning over this tall, handsome man. He’s perfect. He's brilliant and well-spoken. Someone secure and confident, even emotionally available. You’d be a fool not to want this to go further.

Your gaze darts back and forth between his eyes and his lips, unsure how to respond. You've been wondering what they taste like all night and want to kiss the freckle underneath his lip. They look so rosy and pillowy, almost like kissing a cloud.

He softly presses his lips against yours. His big hands cup your face. His nose brushes against your cheek. His lips encapture your top lip, then your bottom. He lingers briefly before pulling away, his lips ghosting over yours, and you want to return for more–you’re not done.

“Do that again,” you whisper.

His breath is warm, and he smiles before going back in, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Your hands are placed on his taut chest, fingers curling and tugging on his shirt. The butterflies in your stomach are yearning for a way out. The desire in you grows deeper. You’re breathless at this point, but you don’t care if you never breathe again.

First kisses always make you go weak in the knees, and you wish you could experience them over and over.

“Your lips are stained,” you notice when you pull away.

Namjoon chuckles; his thumb swipes at his bottom lip. “That’s okay.”

He moves in to kiss you again, but you stop him by putting your index finger to his lips. “The birthday girl should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

You render him speechless—he made the first move, but you’ll have the final say.

You bid goodbye to him, trying your best not to linger and give in to your urges. Peering through the viewfinder, you see him smiling and shaking his head before he closes the door to his place.

You’re grinning from ear to ear as your back is against the door. The date couldn’t have gone better–though you probably couldn’t write a dissertation on Modern Art in Korea, you appreciated that he took the time to explain what he loves and why he’s so passionate about it.

Maybe he could be the one.

It’s midnight when you’re under the covers and still glowing from your date with Namjoon.

You check your phone to see text messages from Jungkook.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 9:22 PM Hey! I found some cool birth flowers. Do you like any of these? [ 5 images attached ]

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 9:27 PM And my tattoo guy had a last-minute cancellation for Monday at 6 p.m. I’m gonna book you for it, okay?

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 10:05 PM I can go to hold your hand if you’d like.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:11 PM I hope you had a good day. See you tomorrow, birthday girl.

This differed from how you wanted to celebrate your birthday week, especially not how you envisioned your friendship with Jungkook. Did you ruin it?

And that’s when your heart aches as you reflect on this past week. Jungkook has been so sweet, and you feel like the worst friend. Could he be into you, and you’re blind to notice?

But what about Namjoon? He’s undoubtedly checked off all the boxes you could want in a partner.

Plus, Jungkook’s just a back-up.

saturday.

The sun is peeking through, and the birds are chirping away. You’ve slept through your alarm because you’re still in dreamland.

You’re unsure who’s in bed with you. All you hear is a groan and shuffling as they reposition themselves. You peer over your shoulder, quickly turning away when they pull themselves closer to you. Then, as an arm comes into view, draping over you, you recognize the inked skin.

It’s Jungkook.

A buzz from your phone and a bang at the door awakens you. Missed notifications of calls and texts from Jenn, your best friend, flood your screen.

You sprint to the door, unlocking and opening it for her.

“Jesus Christ—I thought you were dead,” Jenn says after she brushes past you, setting several bags on your kitchen counter.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, babe,” she blinks, giving you the once-over. “You haven’t showered, have you?”

You shake your head no.

“Well, go! It’s your birthday, but we can’t wait all day for you.” She shoos you off to the bathroom.

When you’re out of the shower, Jenn’s sitting in front of your vanity, putting on her blush.

“So, how are you doing, babe? Still not over Theodore Boner?”

“Bonner,” you correct her.

You adjust your towel, tucking it securely. “There’s been some new developments,” you say, walking to your dresser.

Jenn slowly turns around. “Please don’t tell me you’re back with him? He was a walking red flag. Well, at the end of your relationship anyway.”

You press your lips together, shaking your head. “You know that time I was upset about my break-up with Jimin?”

Jenn hums and narrows her eyes.

“Jungkook and I went out and got pretty drunk.”

She leans forward. “Uh-huh.”

You cleared your throat. “I may have agreed that if Jungkook and I were still single by 30, we’d get married.” You turned around, opening the top drawer in search of cute underwear.

Jenn’s jaw drops. “You’re not going to marry Jeon Jungkook, are you?”

You laugh it off. “No, of course not! But he’s always been there for me after my break-ups.”

“Oh, how convenient that he also happens to be single by your 30th birthday,” she says dryly.

“Jungkook’s been a good friend, and if we were to get married, and that’s a big if, then honestly, I think we’d be pretty good together,” you explain.

You're not sure if you're attempting to persuade Jenn or yourself. You’re not going to lie. You’ve toyed with the idea this whole week.

“Why don’t you just date Jungkook then?” she asks, returning to add more blush to her cheeks.

You nibble on your bottom lip. “Err–well, because there’s a new guy.”

She whips her head back around. “I go on a solo trip, and you have not one but two guys who want to be with you?”

“Technically, I told Jungkook that if things work out with me and Namjoon, he doesn’t have to marry me.”

“Namjoon?”

“Yeah, he’s my new neighbor.”

“Shut up! Your neighbor?” Jenn stands, sprinting out your bedroom door. “Which apartment? I need to see this man.”

“Jenn!” You run after her, clutching her arm, trying to pull her back. “Stop it, will you? He’ll be at the party tonight.”

Jenn turns to you. “Babe–you have Jungkook and new neighbor guy vying for your attention? Sheesh. When can I be the main character?”

You grip your towel and drag her back to your room.

“At least tell me more juicy details,” she whines.

Jungkook checks himself out in the mirror. Hot pink usually is not part of his wardrobe color, but he does it in a heartbeat if it involves you and your silly antics.

He slips the hot pink denim jacket over his white shirt and matching pink cargo trousers. He adds a neon green necklace to finish off his look.

This outfit is Ken-esque, right? He sighs, wishing you could be the Barbie to his Ken.

His roommate, Hoseok, knocks on his door, breaking his focus. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

Jungkook nibbles the inside of his cheek. This week’s been a rollercoaster of emotions for him. He was at an all-time high before you broke the news that you no longer need a back-up.

He’s gone back and forth, debating whether to fight for you or give up.

"I don't know yet," Jungkook responds. He glances at Hoseok through the mirror's reflection.

“Tell her how you feel. Be honest with her,” Hoseok says. He’s been telling Jungkook for two years now.

Jungkook turns around. “I can’t–” he pauses and huffs a breath, taking a seat on the bed.

Hoseok narrows his eyes and crosses his arms as he leans against the door frame. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve done too much shit by breaking up her relationships. She’ll never forgive me,” Jungkook explains.

Hoseok choked on nothing. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Remember Jimin and Theo?”

Hoseok hums.

Jungkook clears his throat. “I may or may not have told some harmless lies that ended up in them breaking up with her.”

Hoseok huffs out a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell her right off the bat that you wanted to date her.”

“I’m an idiot, that’s why, and now it’s too late. She doesn’t want me. She wants the neighbor guy.”

Hoseok sits by his friend. “It’s either now or never. You can’t keep breaking up her relationships because you’re too scared to be in a real one with her. You don’t want to start it off that way.”

Jungkook flings himself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I know! I’ve just never done this before. I don’t know how to act. She’s the first person I’ve had actual feelings for.”

Hoseok blinks at his friend, ready to say something, but Jungkook interrupts him. “Don’t say shit about that–many people don’t meet the right person until later in life.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. “There’s no judgment from me, my friend. Just consider my words before anyone gets hurt.”

You swipe the lip tint across your bottom lip and repeat with the top. Glancing in the mirror, you adjust your dusty rose dress and tie your matching ribbon in your hair.

The theme for tonight's party is Barbie core, and individuals are encouraged to wear any shade of pink. You’re ridiculous, but you only turn 30 once–why not go all out?

Buckets of bubbly are filled with rosé bottles and floral ice cubes. Barbie-esque props, including heart-shaped sunglasses and cut-out foam lips, are ready to be used at the photo booth. You’ve spent too much time on Pinterest planning the perfect celebration.

It’s ten to seven and still too early for people to show, so you order a Malibu Barbie cocktail at the bar. Jin, the bartender, even tops off your drink with pink sanding sugar for this special occasion and throws in a little peach schnapps.

“There’s the birthday girl.”

When you turn around, you see Jungkook in a bright pink attire. Not every day you see him dressed in anything other than black or white, so you consider this a rare treat.

He offers you a warm hug, and you both act as if nothing has changed. It’s not like you’ve seen him every day as he’s dropped off gifts for you, or he willingly watched a rom-com and definitely hadn’t cuddled.

It’s like you’ve gone back to being just friends.

As you withdraw, you give him the once-over. “You look great in hot pink. I wish I got to see your matching toes.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I don’t think sandals would go with this outfit.”

You shake your head no.

“You look amazing,” he adds, taking your hand and making you twirl for him.

“Thanks, Kook,” you grin. Your hand lingers in his as he delicately caresses your skin. The back of your neck is warming up, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve made a mistake breaking off your deal.

“Ah, there’s our Barbie girl!” Jenn exclaims as she approaches you. Immediately, you let go of Jungkook’s hand.

“Hey!” you answer, rubbing the back of your neck. “What’s up? Did you need something?”

Jenn raises her brow at you and Jungkook. “I did, but you’re busy with Ken, so I’ll ask Hoseok to help me. Enjoy your night, babe.”

You take your drink and dash off with Jenn, telling Jungkook you’ll see him later. As you stroll behind her, you loop your arm around hers.

“Are you okay?” Jenn narrows her eyes, suppressing a smile.

You clear your throat. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It looks like you and loverboy were having a moment there before I interrupted,” she says, setting down the flower vase on the dessert table.

“He’s not my loverboy. I’m gonna start seeing Namjoon, remember?”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. Look–all I’m saying is you should give Jungkook a chance. Anyone could tell he’s head over heels in love with you.”

You choke on your drink. “What? How come no one’s ever told me?”

Jenn laughs. “I never put two and two together until you mentioned your little agreement with him this morning,” she pauses, cupping your face. “And my sweet, innocent Barbie girl, he shoots heart eyes whenever you’re around.” She holds your chin, turning you in Jungkook’s direction.

Jungkook is leaning on the bar, attempting to find the perfect stance to appear cool, but he has no idea what to do with himself. He peers in your direction, catching your gaze, and quickly turns away, waving down the bartender.

She continues, “You’ve been with so many knockoff Kens that you were blind to the real one. He’s a bit of a goofball, but he seems sweet, and like you mentioned today, he’s always around when you’re in need.”

What if your decision was a mistake? Would it be too late to change your mind? You were sure Jungkook had already moved on after being rejected.

You watch while Jungkook drinks something–you figure it's vodka. A shot for yourself seems enticing, simply to settle your anxieties.

Your birthday is supposed to be filled with joy, laughter, and celebration, not you being torn between two great guys.

The party is in full swing–the music’s blaring, friends laughing, chattering, drinking away. Everyone has arrived except for the one person you've been looking for: Namjoon.

You giggle when you scan the room and see Hoseok and Jungkook dancing in the corner. When your eyes catch him, he gestures for you to come dance, but you haven’t had enough alcohol to make a fool of yourself.

He sprints to you, grabbing your hand and dragging you along. “You need a drink before you dance, huh?”

Your lips thin, and you think, how does he know you so well?

You nod and follow him from behind. You stare blankly as his hands are loosely intertwined with yours. He’s leading you through the crowd, letting go once you’re at the bar’s counter.

“Do you still want that pink drink thingy you had earlier?”

“Surprise me,” you say.

“Two Pink Cadillacs, please,” he says to Jin.

As Jin gets to work on your drinks, Jungkook makes small talk to kill time.

“Are you having fun?” he asks, standing before you. He sways to the song's beat, grinning from ear to ear.

You’d have more fun if you weren’t thinking about him and Namjoon all night. Considering that Namjoon hasn’t even shown up yet, you appreciate that Jungkook’s a sweet and caring friend.

“I’ll be having more fun once I have this drink,” you say over the music.

“You’re not having fun with me?” he jokes, holding out his hand for yours, and of course, you take it.

He draws you to him, makes you twirl around, and then dips you. A slight squeal escapes your lips when you come back up.

Jungkook chuckles. “Sorry, I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“No, I’m–I’m having a good time,” you answer his previous question.

“Are you sure? It looks like something’s on your mind,” Jungkook notes. "You can always talk to me, you know."

Even after breaking off your agreement, he's still willing to be a good friend to you. How'd you get so lucky with someone like him?

"I know," you smile, draping your arms around his neck.

"Two Pink Cadillacs."

You break away from him, grabbing your drink. The two of you sip on them, watching the crowd.

"Jungkook, one. Hot sexy neighbor, zero," Jenn whispers in your ear before walking away.

You clench your jaw and narrow your eyes at her. It’s been an hour, and Namjoon is still nowhere to be seen. Maybe something came up. Things happen. You get it.

"What's going on with Jenn?" he asks.

"Nothing," you reply as you move to stand before him. "You know how she is."

Jungkook takes another sip of his drink. “Hey, can I talk to you about something?”

Your eyes widen and flick to him. Have you been obvious about what’s on your mind?

“Yeah, of course–” you say before a hand slides on the small of your back. You turn to see the man who’s been MIA, Namjoon.

“Hey, birthday girl. I’m sorry I’m late! It was a lot harder to find a pink outfit than I thought,” Namjoon chuckles, then he sees that he may have interrupted something. “Oh–hey, man! Jungkook, right?”

Jungkook gives a small smile, and you mouth, ‘Sorry.’

“Can I steal you away for a second?” Namjoon asks, and you oblige.

Namjoon takes your hand, ready to drag you off, but you stop and return to Jungkook. “Can we talk later?”

He nods. “Yeah, of course. It’s your birthday. Go have fun. I’ll talk to you later.”

Jungkook looks on as you and Namjoon disappear. You laugh when he says something, and Jungkook can hear it–you always let out a tiny squeak, your shoulders bounce, and you cover up your mouth because you don't like how your teeth show when you laugh.

He rubs the back of his neck. He’ll have to find time to talk to you later.

Hoseok nudges Jungkook. “Who’s that?”

Jungkook sips his drink and inhales sharply. “Her neighbor.”

“They look pretty cozy to me,” Hoseok remarks. “Go say something before it’s too late.”

It’s already too late, Jungkook thinks. He’s lost you again. What’s the point if he tried with you and you didn’t want him?

He chugs the drink and orders another round for him and Hoseok. He might as well enjoy the booze while he can–at least it would get you off his mind.

Jungkook's vision is blurred, speech slurred. Even though he sees double, his gaze is still fixed on you and Namjoon, following you wherever you go: the photo booth, the bar, the dance floor. Namjoon’s hands haven’t left you, whether holding your hand or soft touches on the small of your back.

It should be him, he thinks, but he’s been turned down before. He couldn't imagine being rejected twice.

He leans on a high-top table, rhythmically tapping his fingers against it. A few of your friends drag you off to the photo booth for the umpteenth time tonight, and Namjoon is left waiting for you.

Jungkook waits and observes Namjoon, wondering why you’d choose Namjoon over him. He thinks he could take the guy in the boxing ring. He’s too big and sluggish to move as fast as Jungkook. Indeed, he could knock Namjoon out with his right hook. But if it’s not a physical thing you’re looking for, then it’s an intellectual thing.

He shakes off the self-deprecating thoughts. Why doesn’t he go over and chat the guy up? Get to know him. It won’t hurt to find out what kind of guy he is.

There's a queue of friends waiting to take individual shots with you, and you look over to check whether Namjoon is all right. You notice Jungkook approaching and breathe a sigh of comfort, knowing he'll keep Namjoon company.

Jungkook stands up tall when he’s beside Namjoon. “Lavish party, huh?”

Namjoon turns to him and chuckles. “Yeah, she went all out for her 30th.” He cracks his neck and adjusts his bright pink blazer.

“Since you’ll be around, you should get used to it. ___ throws parties like this all the time.”

“She does?” Namjoon’s eyes widened with concern.

Jungkook pouts and nods. “You think this is bad? Last year, she rented a private island, and everyone who attended had to buy a plane ticket to her party.”

Namjoon gulps.

“Man–and now that you guys are together. I'm wishing nothing but the best for you," Jungkook shakes his head. "The last guy was going through it.”

“Last guy? What happened to the last guy?”

Jungkook glances in your direction, then back to Namjoon. “Oh, you guys haven’t had that conversation yet?”

“What conversation?”

“Let’s just say there was a restraining order involved.”

There’s a look of relief on Namjoon’s face. “Man, that guy must’ve been a psycho.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Oh no, no, no. The restraining order was against her!”

Namjoon shifts his position, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Trust me, you don’t want to get on her bad side. Once, she took a bat to a neighbor’s car, thinking it was her boyfriend’s. Mind you, she was pretty drunk—and it was dark, but when she has an idea that you’re cheating on her, all hell breaks loose,” Jungkook tuts.

“Oh.”

Jungkook chuckles. “And don’t even get me started on her obsession with that one K-pop group, Seventeen. She practically has a shrine in her bedroom. Mingyu’s face is plastered on every square inch of her walls, and when they finally came on tour, she drained so much of her savings flying everywhere to see them—front row, I might add.”

Namjoon clears his throat. “I think I need a drink,” he says.

“But don’t worry, man, you’ll be fine!” Jungkook shouts as Namjoon walks away.

He lowers his head and rubs his face. He blames the alcohol for his stupidity. His string of lies is why you would never want to be with him.

Although Jungkook has spewed many lies to Namjoon, it doesn’t scare him off. The two of you are like two peas in a pod. And when he sees Namjoon jet off somewhere, Jungkook swoops in, hoping he’ll have a chance to talk to you before it’s too late.

“Hey!” Jungkook says out of breath. “Going home?”

“Yeah,” you beam a warm smile. “I’m pretty wiped.”

“I can take you home, and then maybe we can talk?”

You nod. “Mm, that sounds like a plan.”

You’ve always found it easy to talk to Jungkook. Even though he claims not to be good at chitchatting, he knows how to make you smile and laugh.

“Did you see Hoseok and Jenn trying to undress each other?” Jungkook chuckles.

“Jenn claims she thought Hoseok was a Ken doll,” you giggle. “I don’t know why they keep skirting around each other. They should date already.”

You two arrive outside your apartment. You unlock the keypad, leaving the door open. Turning back, you see Jungkook standing there. “Are you gonna come in or talk to me from out there?” you ask, shaking your head.

Jungkook walks through the door, closing it behind himself. He smooths down his pants and fixes the collar of his jacket. His gaze darts around the room as he prepares to say what’s on his mind.

“Can I change, and then we’ll talk?”

Jungkook nods, and you run off to your room.

With a heavy sigh, he takes a seat on the couch. He keeps shifting his weight, but nothing feels right. The sweat on his hands increases as the seconds pass by. He's never done it before, confessed his feelings.

Jungkook had rehearsed like he was up for a big audition but felt he’d stumble over his words and blurt out bleh-bleh-blahs.

You resurface a few seconds later, wearing an oversized t-shirt and what appears to be nothing underneath, but when you sit down, he catches a peek at your shorts.

“You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah, about us.”

You cocked your head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Us?”

A knock on the door interrupts you. Your eyebrows knitted together, wondering who it could be this late at night. When you open it, you find Namjoon.

“Hey! You left your phone at the restaurant,” he says. He acknowledges Jungkook as he steps in.

“Oh, thank you! Ah–don’t leave yet! I have something to give to you, too.” You dash to your room, leaving Jungkook and Namjoon.

There’s a moment before Jungkook breaks the silence. He turns to Namjoon. “That shirt she’s wearing is from her ex-boyfriend. She sleeps in it every night because she misses him.”

Namjoon’s lips thin, and he nods.

“Trust me–you should run while you can,” Jungkook says, shaking his head.

He points to the small Seventeen merch collection sitting on a shelf in your living room. “See. It’s cute and innocent until it’s not.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Namjoon says reluctantly as he turns away, trying to focus on other things until you return.

You leave your room with a bag, handing it to Namjoon. “I washed your shirt and bought you a new one too.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” he reaches for the shirt, taking it out.

“I know, but I felt bad about ruining it.”

Namjoon chuckles. "I like how you're giving me a gift on your birthday."

You wave off his comment. "It's nothing. Thanks for returning my phone,” you say, walking him to the door. “I’ll see you later?”

He flashes a grin; his dimples etched deeply into those cheeks. You pull him down to kiss him on the cheek, barely catching the corner of his lips. You let it linger for a second longer, ensuring Jungkook can see it.

“Bye,” you whisper, closing the door behind him.

You stand with your back facing Jungkook. Clenching your jaw and your fists, you huff a breath. Turning around, you stare at the one person you thought was your friend.

“This is my ex-boyfriend’s shirt, and I sleep in it because I miss him?” you deadpan, folding your arms across your chest.

Your glare silences Jeon Jungkook, and his deer-in-the-headlights appearance implies guilt.

You scoff and shake your head in disbelief. “Have you been sabotaging all my relationships? Tell me the truth.”

You remember Jimin and Theo and how conveniently Jungkook had been there after each breakup.

There’s still no word from Jungkook. He’s playing with the invisible hair on his chin before he stands. “Yeah, but it’s only because—”

“Because what!” you exclaim. Never in a million years did you think you’d be yelling at a good friend. “Because you want to marry me? Why didn’t you just ask me out, Kook?”

The nickname causes his heart to ache. His eyes darted to the floor, then at you. “Because...”

You lean forward, waiting for his excuse, but he doesn’t give you one. You’re only met with silence.

“Because you’re the kind of guy who lies and manipulates to get what he wants? Didn’t really think you were that kind of person.”

“I’m not—”

“You are! If you cared about me, you wouldn’t go around spreading lies. And to think I was going to marry you? God–you must think I’m fucking stupid.”

"No, I don't think that at all—" he counters, taking a step toward you, and you take a step back.

Licking your lips, you play with your bottom lip. "I—I don't even know who you are anymore."

"I'm the same person you met two years ago," he says. Jungkook steps toward you again, reaching out for you.

"Don't touch me," you warn. "Don't you ever talk to me again," you say, avoiding his gaze. "You should go, Kook."

Jungkook walks past you. He makes his way to the door—and when it shuts, you flinch.

Approaching your 30s, you figured you’d be crying because you’re likely to have a mid-life crisis and not because one of your good friends has lied to you for the last couple of years.

Jungkook has misled you throughout the week. You don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore.

Your heart aches from the pain. Why did this hurt more than a breakup? You trusted him, even considered marrying him and spending the rest of your life with him. How could you be so naive? Maybe it was your distorted perception of love and relationships, and that’s how you ended up in this situation.

Maybe it's your fault and no one else's.

sunday.

It’s early. Too early for Jungkook’s taste.

He’s been tossing and turning all night. Wishing he could redo the last two years. Wishing he could’ve been honest from the beginning. Wishing you didn’t hate him right now.

Picking up his phone, he grumbles after seeing the time—six in the morning. There’s no way you’re up, he thinks. And there’s no way you��ll pick up his call either.

He assumes you’ve blocked him—wants nothing to do with him and doesn’t blame you.

The expression on your face is ingrained in his memory, and the lies he told are on a continuous loop. How would he win you back—if you’d let him, that is.

It’s that point in the romantic movie where the love interest finds the courage to go for it. Jungkook has nothing else to lose at this point. It’s now or never.

With your favorite iced coffee and pastry in hand, he’s ready to beg for your forgiveness. Beg for another chance to make things right.

Three knocks strike your door. No answer.

He gives it another moment before doing it again.

And nothing.

He pulls out his phone, searching for your contact. It rings several times and goes to voicemail. At least you didn’t block him, he thinks.

Should he wait here all day? In hopes you’ll leave your apartment?

Unless Namjoon has seen you or knows your whereabouts.

Jungkook figures, why not? What does he have to lose? He’s already lost his dignity.

Another three knocks, only this time it’s on Namjoon’s door. A few moments later, the lock unlatches, and the door opens.

Namjoon’s eyes widened at the sight of Jungkook. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

“Hey. Have you seen or heard from ___?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, man. I haven’t.”

The corners of Jungkook’s lips turn down, and he nods. “Fuck,” he mumbles, lowering his head. He turns on his heel, ready to leave.

“Hey, Jungkook?”

He turns back and hums.

“If you like her, be honest with her,” Namjoon says.

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck. “Did ___ tell you?”

Namjoon chuckles and shakes his head no. “I figured you were lying when you said she made everyone fly to a private island. She mentioned that she’s never flown before. So I put two and two together, and it was hard to ignore all the glares you gave me at the party.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, lowering his head. “I’m so sorry about all the lies I told you. None of them were true—except maybe the Mingyu thing. She does have an obsession with that guy.”

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry about coming between you two. But it’s no wonder she likes you. You have your head on straight, unlike me.”

A grin sweeps across Namjoon’s face. “It’s okay. I get it, man. I’ve been there before—not the lying, but I’ve been head over heels for someone. ___ is cool, and you seem like a good guy. Just…don’t give up on her, okay?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What about you guys?”

“Huh? Me and ___?” Jungkook hums. “We’ve been out on one date, and you’ve known her for…?

“Two years.”

“You have more history with her than I do.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell lies.”

Namjoon steps forward, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “You’d be a fool to give up now. Trust me, you don’t want to live with the what ifs and what could have been.”

“Um, here,” Jungkook says, handing Namjoon the iced coffee and pastry bag. “I don’t want it to go to waste.”

He bids Namjoon goodbye, and as he’s driving home, he stares off into space, pondering Namjoon’s words.

What if you never want to talk to him again? What if he loses you?

He only wanted his chance with you; whenever he gathered the courage to do so, someone always came into the picture before him. He’s realized how much his lies caused more harm than good. He was cheating his way into your heart, which is unfair to you and him.

You peek out when the elevator doors open, ensuring the coast is clear. You've seen the missed calls and texts but needed more time to be ready to face Jeon Jungkook. That's why you've been hiding out at Jenn's all day. But alas, you had to go home and face your fears.

Your door accidentally slams when you go in. Shit.

It’s not like Jungkook’s been waiting around for you, right? Though, you didn’t want to make it known that you were home.

Not even ten minutes after you’ve arrived, there’s a knock on your door. Peering through your viewfinder, you check if the coast is clear and unlock your door. You grab Namjoon's hand, pulling him into the apartment.

"Whoa–miss me that much?" he jokes, setting down the iced coffee and pastry bag.

"What's that?"

"Jungkook dropped it off this morning, but you weren't here. Have you been hiding?"

You lower your head. "Yes."

Namjoon licks his lips. “He’s in love with you, you know?”

You ignore the coffee and pastry bag and sit on the couch. “It’s a weird way to show that you like someone by lying and sabotage.”

“I think it’s cute,” Namjoon chuckles, sitting beside you.

Disbelief is written all over your face: eyes wide, brows lifted, jaw open, which only makes him laugh harder.

“You gotta give the guy some credit. He went out of his way to make sure you’d say single so he could finally have his chance with you. That sounds like dedication to me.”

“Is this a weird ‘guy code?’ Am I missing something?”

He shakes his head. “I get where he’s coming from. Does it suck that he lied instead of saying what he wanted? Yeah, but maybe he didn’t know how to say it because he feared he’d say nonsense in front of you. I know the feeling–where you like someone so much, you’re afraid of looking dumb.”

You ponder Namjoon’s words, sipping on your iced coffee. “You seem chatty. Does that mean you don’t go dumb around me?” you ask dryly.

Namjoon laughs. “I get butterflies and excitement every time I walk out my door, hoping I’d bump into you.”

“But?”

“But you should figure things out with Jungkook, and then we’ll go from there.”

It’s silly—the glow-in-the-dark stars that are plastered on your ceiling. Half of them threaten to fall, and the other half are stuck on so tight it’ll take off the paint.

“You’ve never had glow-in-the-dark stars before?” Jungkook asks. “Let’s get some.”

The only reason why they’re up there in the first place is because of him. Jungkook was comforting you after your breakup with Jimin.

You throw your duvet over your head, screaming into it. How could you have been so blind? So stupid? How are you supposed to face him again with your friend group? Or alone?

This past week was perfect—at least, you thought it was. But you’re second-guessing every interaction, every conversation, every laugh, every touch.

If you hadn’t met Namjoon, could you have fallen in love with Jungkook?

The more you thought about it, the more you hated that you were falling for him. Maybe Namjoon was just an excuse not to explore a relationship with Jungkook. Maybe you didn’t want to ruin your friendship, but then again, what did it matter because it’s been sabotaged by Jungkook himself?

How would you get out of this mess?

monday.

A notification ding shows up on your phone.

[ Tattoo appointment - 6 PM ]

Shit. You completely forgot about your tattoo.

You go through your text messages, finding the Instagram profile of Kai, who’s supposed to tattoo you. You frown when you see a cancellation fee and that the cancellation should’ve been done two days before the appointment. Now, you have to mentally prepare yourself for getting your first tattoo.

The recommendations on your YouTube only show videos of ‘how much does getting a tattoo hurt.’ You know the pain that goes into a needle puncturing your skin. The question was, how high was your pain threshold?

When you walk into the shop, a bell chimes. It’s in pristine condition, as one would expect from a tattoo parlor. You’re greeted by a girl dressed in a black latex v-neck top. A sunray heart tattoo sits right on her chest.

“Hi, I have an appointment with Kai.”

She clicks through her computer and beams a warm smile. “For ___?” You nod. “Is Jungkook coming too?” she asks.

“Oh no. I don’t think so.” Was he planning on getting something, too? You didn’t think he’d show after everything went down.

“Kai is finishing up with a client, and he’ll come get you when he’s ready.”

You flash a small smile, taking a seat in their lounge. You’re picking at your nail beds and bouncing your leg. You’re trying to focus on anything other than what will happen soon.

A light noise of whirring fills the room. You close your eyes, concentrating on your breathing. It’s a small tattoo. There’s nothing to be afraid of, you think.

A part of you wishes Jungkook was here to hold your hand like he said he would. It's dumb even to want him to be here. But after spending so much time with him this past week, you admit you miss him.

"I’m ready for you,” Kai says.

You take a deep breath and follow him to his workspace.

“Nervous?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s my first tattoo.”

“You’ll do great. I know it,” Kai smiles, sitting at his desk. He grabs his iPad. “Okay, what are we getting today?” Kai asks.

“Um, I turned 30 yesterday, so I wanted to get the birth flower for September,” you say, showing him the inspiration photos.

“Ah, Happy Birthday,” Kai grins. “Birth flowers are a great choice. Any idea where you want it and the size?”

"On the back of my neck, I don't want anything too big. Two to three inches."

"Oh–a woman who knows what she wants. There was no hesitation," Kai teases. "Cool–so, I'll sketch out a few options, and then we'll go from there. Sound good?"

You press your lips together and nod. As Kai's working on your sketch, you stroll around his workspace, looking at the illustrations hung up. There's traditional and fine line art, and you recognize a drawing of a snake—it looks like the one Jungkook has on his arm.

“See anything else you like?”

“I, um, recognize some of your work. You’ve tattooed my friend, Jungkook,” you note, turning back to look through more of Kai’s sketches.

Somehow, your nerves have finally calmed down. The whirring noise from the tattoo gun is like white noise to you, drowning everything out. You’re lost in the intricate detailing of the drawings. Tattooing is true art, you think. But instead of a traditional canvas or paper, it’s forever inked on someone’s skin.

“Okay, let me know what you think of these.” Kai shows you the iPad with a few flowers drawn out.

“You’re so quick,” you comment as you review your options. “Let’s go with this one.” You love how delicate and dainty the tattoo looks.

“If you need a break at any time, just let me know,” Kai gives a warm smile. “I apologize for the weird positioning, but I’ll need you to lay on your stomach, and your head will hang off the table.”

Your lips thin when you catch his gaze. You remove your zip-up hoodie and place it on a chair with your bag. Kai prints the design on transfer paper, putting the placement on the back of your neck. He hands you a mirror, ensuring it’s in the correct spot.

“Alright, let’s do this,” he says.

Once you’re on the table, the once-soothing noise of the tattoo gun flips a switch, and sweat builds up in the palms of your hands. The blood rushes to your head as your head is hanging off the table. You can see Kai’s feet as he steps on the foot pedal, ensuring his equipment works correctly.

You take a deep breath, trying to exhale fear and anxiety, but nothing works. The tattoo gun sounds closer, and the needle inches away from you. Your fists clench up, and you close your eyes, hoping it’ll be over quickly.

You can feel the latex glove on your back as Kai’s ready to outline the design. You can do this, you think.

With eyes still closed, fists clenched—you’re ready.

The shop's bell chimes again, but you’re too focused on this needle about to prick your skin. You can feel another presence. Their warmth is radiating on you. You figure it’s just the girl from the front, so you don’t bother to open your eyes.

Your fist unclenches, and not because of your own doing. It’s whoever is beside you. Opening your eyes, you see a pair of black motorcycle denim tucked into leather stomper boots.

“Hey—my man,” Kai stops and acknowledges. “Good to see you, Jungkook.”

“Hey,” Jungkook replies. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Nah, you’re right on time. We just started. I’m sure ___ appreciates you being here,” Kai notes, returning to tattooing you.

You didn’t want to admit it, but having Jungkook’s presence was comforting. A part of you wanted to be stubborn and pull your arm away, but considering that a needle was piercing your skin—it wasn’t a good idea.

Jungkook laces his hand with yours; his thumb lightly grazes over your skin. He leans forward, whispering, “Hi.”

You’re unsure if the shiver running through your spine is because of the needle or Jungkook.

While lying on this tattoo table, you’re at war with yourself. An angel on one shoulder tells you to stay strong and not give in because he’s holding your hand. The devil, on the other hand, is telling you you’re a simp and can’t resist when a man is fawning over you.

You hate that the devil is right, and you’re even considering Namjoon’s words, ‘You gotta give the guy some credit. He went out of his way to make sure you’d stay single so he could finally have his chance with you. That sounds like dedication to me.’

Was it dedication or delusion?

You won’t lie. You’ve done questionable things when it came to love, too, so you couldn’t blame Jungkook. Maybe you should hear him out and see what he says for himself.

You’re silent, letting Kai do his thing. He and Jungkook chit-chat about life and future tattoos. The buzzing mechanical hum from the tattoo gun is constant and annoying—you’re growing numb to it like you’re growing numb to the pain.

But Jungkook’s touch? It makes you tingle. You’re keenly aware of how his thumb strokes against your knuckle—the constant squeezes, reassuring your anxiety when the pain shoots down your spine.

Through the years, that’s what Jungkook’s always been—he soothes your pain.

Maybe he’s responsible for your current pain - the shattered relationships and this tattoo you’re getting, but he always has a back-up plan: himself. He’s the shoulder to cry on, the hand to hold—the constant, consistent one who shows up repeatedly.

He’s confusing but calming, and you’re annoyed at how much you don’t mind his touch. Your breathing slows, and your shoulders relax as you sink into the cushioned table.

“Almost done,” Kai notes.

That was fast. Fifteen minutes–tops.

Kai finishes cleaning the tattoo, and after you stand up from your awkward position, you’re face to face with Jungkook. Once again, Jungkook resorted back to his favorite color: black. He’s in an oversized long-sleeve shirt and jeans, and there’s a silver chain adorning his neck.

His doe eyes twinkle and the corners of his mouth curve up. “The tattoo looks good on you,” he says softly. “Do you wanna see?”

Even with a mirror, the placement makes it hard to see the finished product. You grab your phone, open the camera app, and hand it over to Jungkook. You turn around, facing the mirror, holding up your hair. You catch Jungkook’s gaze and look away. His hand gently touches the nape of your neck, removing a stray hair. He snaps a few photos, handing your phone back.

“It looks beautiful on you.”

You mumble a word of thanks, grabbing your things, attempting to flee from his presence.

Pulling out your wallet to pay for your tattoo, you head to the front, but the girl stops you.

“Jungkook already paid,” she says.

The nape of your neck warms up, and your nostrils flare. You nod at the girl. Bumping into Jungkook on the way out, you stuff your wallet back into your bag, and Jungkook follows you, catching up.

“Why did you do that?” you ask, glaring at Jungkook.

"Because it's your birthday present. I couldn't let you pay for it."

You narrow your eyes, giving him the once over. “Why? So you can tell the next guy I date how we have matching tattoos and scare him off?” you retort, brushing past him.

Jungkook cards his hand through his hair. “Come on, that’s not fair,” he shouts, running after you again.

He calls out to you, making you stop in your tracks. Turning around, you breathe a heavy sigh. “You’re right. It's not fair,” you give him a wry smile. “But doesn’t it sound like something you’d say? Mr. Liar Liar Pants on Fire.”

The third time must be the charm because he’s chasing after you again.

“Hey, can we talk, please?” he implores as his eyes scan your face.

You zig-zag around him.

He repeats by running and standing in front of you. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

“Watch me,” you retort, attempting to flee again.

Jungkook holds his hand up. “Just hear me out, and if you never want to talk to me again after that, then so be it."

You huff. “Only if you drop me off at home,” you say, crossing your arms. You don’t feel like taking the subway; it’s the least he could do.

With hands in your lap, you’re waiting for Jungkook to say something, but he’s as quiet as a mouse. He’s missed two exits and been driving in circles, going past your apartment complex for the fourth time. You wouldn’t be surprised if a police car starts following you, considering how suspicious the two of you look.

You can’t take it anymore—the endless dancing around this conversation. “I thought you wanted to talk?” you ask as your eyes flick in his direction for a moment.

He straightens his posture, gripping the steering wheel and focusing on the road. "I'm, uh, I’m sorry for telling all those lies. It was stupid of me. I should’ve been honest with you from the beginning.”

You bury your face in your hands before turning to him. “If you liked me, why didn’t you tell me?”

You had come up with many scenarios in your head and thought back to your conversations and interactions with him. Jungkook had so many chances to say something, but he never did.

Jungkook shrugs and looks at you briefly before returning to the road.

“It’s easy being your friend, but to be your boyfriend? That scares me.”

You get it. Opening your heart, being vulnerable, and giving your everything to one person is terrifying. Sometimes, it feels like days, months, and years are wasted with one person when it doesn’t work out.

“Scared you’d screw it up?” you ask, turning to him.

Jungkook hums as he pulls up to your apartment complex.

With a sigh, you admit, “You were on your way to being a pretty good boyfriend.”

You hate that you found him so sweet and cute, even after everything that’s happened.

“I was?” he questions with widened eyes and turns off the ignition. He shifts to face you.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. Your hand lingers on the door handle. “Walk me up?”

The two of you are on opposite sides of the elevator. Jungkook’s leaning on the metal bar behind himself with his legs crossed in front of him.

He hangs his head before looking up at you. "What if I had been truthful from the beginning? Do you think we would’ve been together?”

You press your lips together and shake your head. “I don’t know, Kook. I guess we’ll never know.”

When the elevator arrives at your floor, it chimes, and you exit, and Jungkook follows. You stop outside your door, watching as Jungkook leans his shoulder against the wall, facing you.

You can tell when something is brewing in Jungkook’s mind. You’ve been friends long enough for you to notice some tendencies.

With an eyebrow lifted and his tongue poking through the inside of his cheek, he’s ready to lay something on you. He licks his lips, eyes flick to yours.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same way,” he says.

You can feel your stomach somersaulting when he doesn’t break eye contact. Your heart rate rises as you work harder to pump more blood than usual.

There were small, fleeting moments where you could picture yourself with him: weekend mornings with breakfast in bed and late-night cuddles on the couch.

“I’m trying my hardest not to feel something,” you confess. As much as he was scared to screw it up, so were you. You’ve never dated a friend. You’ve met all your ex-boyfriends through mutual friends. You’ve built fantasies of what a perfect boyfriend and relationship should look like, and Jungkook wasn't perfect–but neither were you.

Jungkook moves closer. “So you like me too?” His eyes dart from your parted lips to your eyes.

“I don’t not like you,” you say softly, stepping forward as you play with his silver chain.

"So where does this leave us?" He’s searching your face for an answer.

As always, your heart is at war with your head. The sensible thing to do is to stay friends. The foolish thing is to see how this could pan out. What if you could get your happily ever after?

"What would you do if I was yours?" you ask.

"If you were mine?"

You hum.

"If you were mine, I'd spend every waking minute with you. Asking anything and everything that comes to mind. I want to know what makes you happy and sad. I want to know what you love and hate. I want to know everything your heart desires." Jungkook eliminates the distance. "I'd pepper you with kisses all day–on your neck, cheeks, forehead, lips–everywhere,” he says softly as his eyes never leave yours. "If you were mine, I'd never lie to you again. I'd love you with every breath and never let you go." He’s eye to eye with you, hands cupping your face. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you. I was an idiot for not saying anything sooner. But if this is the only time I could be with you, I'll take it."

You gulp. Jungkook’s saying all the right things, everything a girl could want. You hate it. You hate that you’re a sucker for heartfelt moments and love confessions. Neverending cartwheels occupy your stomach. The little gymnast in there is going for the gold–doing back flips and leaps; there’s no way to stop them. Your heart beats faster for him than for anyone else–even more than Namjoon.

All it took was a silly agreement and a few lies to make you realize you didn’t want a perfect boyfriend or relationship. Forget getting married by a certain age. Forget the expectations of you instilled by society. This boy was a bit messy, a bit ruined, but a beautiful disaster.

Whatever it looked like, you wanted him.

You take another second to look at him because what you want to say next will change your friendship.

“Kiss me,” you say softly, your gaze dropping to his lips.

“Are you sure you want me to kiss you?”

You nod.

If there’s one more thing to add to Jungkook’s list of fears—it’s ruining your friendship.

“I won’t be able to stop if I do,” he whispers.

Restless is how you would describe Jungkook. Restless when it came to telling your exes lies. Restless in his ability to sit still. Restless as he chews on his bottom lip–it could be how he incessantly licks his lips or just lacks hydration. You’ve never noticed before how badly he needs chapstick.

But Jungkook’s within touching distance of your lips, and all you can think about is how much he needs chapstick. Your sweet peach one, you think.

Maybe you should offer him some.

“Then don’t.”

It’s slow and gentle when he kisses you. He’s taking his time. There’s no urgency. No tongue, no hands beneath your shirt, or roaming your body. Nothing like that.

It’s like he’s been waiting so long to do this. It’s like he’s forgotten any other mouth existed but yours. You’ll forget your name or where you are when you finally break away from his lips.

He consumes every thought you have, and this is what you were afraid of–that you’ll become addicted to his kisses. You’re unsure how long you can stand before he has to carry you to bed.

His breath is warm and sweet. You love him breathing life into you and taking it away over and over. Your hands curl into his shirt, tugging him as close as possible. Tilting your head, you open your mouth to catch more air before kissing him again. Lips upon lips are discovering each other.

Jungkook pulls away, his nose nudging yours. He kisses the corner of your mouth and your cheek. He’s on his tippy toes, kissing your eyelids, then your forehead.

“Okay–don’t stop,” you say, breathless, reaching for another kiss. “It’s for scientific reasons.”

He chuckles. “Are you researching how long someone can go without breathing?”

“Mmhm.” You reach again, but he pulls back, making you pout.

“You didn’t answer my question from earlier, ‘Where does this leave us?’ he asks.

You realize he won’t kiss you until you answer him. You cock your head to the side. “I like you, but it will take a minute for me to trust you again.”

Jungkook nods. “Mm, I get that. So…?”

“So–we should take this slow and see where it goes.”

He sucks in his lips, trying to suppress a smile. “What about Namjoon?”

The two of you hear someone clearing their throat, and you look in their direction as they appear from the hallway. It’s Namjoon, giving you a quick wave.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says as he walks to his door. “I saw you guys when I turned the corner, but then I ducked back into the hallway, waiting for you to…finish.” Namjoon presses his lips together into a smile.

You turn to Jungkook. “I’ll be one second.”

With a sprint in your step, you head toward Namjoon. “I’m so sorry you saw that.”

Namjoon laughs. “Why are you sorry? I knew I didn’t have a chance against Jungkook. I was waiting for you to realize you wanted to be with him.”

Your eyes widened. “You knew?”

His eyebrows raise, and he nods. “Mmhm.” He leans forward. “We had fun, but look at the guy.” Namjoon glances at Jungkook. “I would’ve felt like the back-up until you two got your shit together. You don’t have to worry about me. Go–he’s waiting for you.”

“Thanks Namjoon.” A sense of relief rushes over you, and you’re thankful he understands.

Returning to Jungkook, you’re no longer looking at your back-up plan. He’s the one you want to wake up next to, the one you want to laugh with, smile with–he’s become your first choice.

He extends his hand for yours. “So, should I get my tux pressed?”

You deadpan.

“We’re practically engaged now, right?” he jokes before leaning in for a kiss.

You press your finger into his taut chest, pushing him away. “Be fucking for real, Jungkook. We’re going inside and watching my favorite rom-com–While You Were Sleeping, so you can see the consequences of how lying gets you in trouble.”

“Oh, I love that one! It's the one where she pretends to be engaged to the guy in a coma, but she falls for the brother?”

You slowly turn to him, mouth agape. “You really have seen a lot of rom-coms, haven’t you?”

“I may have learned a thing or two from them.”

“Yeah–lying!” You scold him as you enter the apartment. The two of you continue bickering back and forth.

Who knew you’d be living in a romantic film of your own?

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook #jeon jungkook

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s-vtoru · 11 months ago

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where's my reward? | wriothesley x reader

ᡴꪫ summary: wriothesley comes to you, his biggest cheerleader, after winning his 5th boxing match this week. he expects a reward for his hard work and who are you to deny him? pairing: boxer!wriothesley x fem!reader warnings: smut, praise kink (wrio), pet names (angel, baby, pretty girl), p in v, porn with plot, breeding kink, implied pregnancy

wriothesley was in the ring, throwing punches to the face and gut of his opponent, almost rarely receiving them from the other end. one uppercut and left jab from the duke left his combatant on the floor gasping for air, covered in bruises and a bloody nose. cheers and clapping erupted from the crowd around the arena as wriothesley was deemed the winner, or champion rather, which happened almost every time. as he held the belt given to him, showing off his well-earned prize off to the crowd, he spotted you just a few feet away from the rink screaming his name and cheering for him. seeing you apart of the crowd, his number one fan, it was his sole reason to keep on going in his boxing career. you are his motivation.

a few interviews and photograph signing later, he was completely spent. all he wanted was to hold you in his arms and head on home. so once he saw you waiting for him in his personal dressing room, he immediately wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head in the crook of your neck. you smiled warmly, "hi mr. champion," you spoke, turning your head to press a kiss onto his cheek. man was he happy to hear your sweet voice. "mm. hey," he pressed soft kisses against your neck, fingers messing with the bottom of your shirt. "you did great out there, wrio," you caressed his forearm with the pad of your thumb, the both of you swaying side to side. "thanks baby, couldn't have done it without you," and it was true, if he didn't have you, he wouldn't have made it this far. he wouldn't have been one of the top 3 best boxers in the world.

having you in his arms never got old. he loved feeling your body against his big, bulky frame. remember how spent he was earlier? well, not so much anymore. with you in front of him, looking all pretty in those tight leggings and compression long sleeve shirt with his name on the back that hugged your figure oh so nicely, you can feel his growing bulge against your ass. "i figured you'd be tired after such a long match, but i suppose not?" he chuckled against your shoulder, looking at you through the vanity mirror in front of you both. "well, i was. but then i thought about how i won and.." you raised your eyebrow, not really knowing where he was going with this. "and what?" you could feel him smirk against your skin, his deep gaze on your body and your pretty lips.

"where's my reward?"

".. reward?" you repeated, still confused for a moment before realizing what he meant by 'reward'. "shouldn't i be rewarded for winning today's match and for all my hard work?" a laugh left your lips, turning your body to look at him fully. "oh why yes, of course," you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, a grin spread across your lips. "what would be a good enough reward for you, hm?" wriothesley hummed, ocean blue hues glued to your lips as he came up with an idea. "well, i think this pretty girl in front of me would make a pretty good reward. don't you think?" your cheeks flushed a bright shade of red, getting a bit embarrassed by his words but you pull him closer, your lips just a mere centimeters apart. "then you can have this reward you speak of in any way you want. how's that sound?" your tone was gentle, alluring. a deep chuckle left his lips, his smirk only widening, "sounds perfect," his lips crashed against yours eagerly, hands already finding purchase on your ass.

his leg found its way in between your legs, knee pressing right up against your clothed cunt. you could feel him smiling against your lips, a whimper being pulled out of you from the friction his knee gave you. your panties were already ruined, your slick creating a wet patch on them as well as your leggings. "w—wrio.." you mumbled in the kiss, his tongue finding the opportunity to flood your mouth, dancing against yours in a coinciding rhythm. he tugged on your bottom lip, a fervorous growl leaving his lips. "fuck, you're already so wet for me.. and i barely did anything to you," his eyes bore into yours with an intensity you've never seen before. he wanted to bed you over and fuck you right then and there with no hesitation, but he needed to hold back. just for a while longer.

his head dipped down to your neck, his lips sucking light red marks onto your soft skin that would soon darken in due time. his canines spent no time in leaving their own mark on you, biting down with ease, but not hard enough to cause you any pain but a slight sting. the duke's hips rutted against the fat of your ass, his painfully hardened cock grinding against you with a kind of desperation you knew very well. however, you gathered his attention by cupping his cheeks with your small palms, letting out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "wait.. let me," you retracted your hands, slowly lowering down to your knees, face to face with the bulge portruding through his shorts, "reward you."

wriothesley's cheeks flushed a bright shade of crimson that stretched to the tips of his ears, watching you get down on your knees for him. he licked his lips at the sight of you, his expression contorted with lust and need. "by all means, please," a little grin spread comfortably across your lips, pulling down his shorts and underwear in one swift motion, watching his cock spring out excitedly. a content sigh left your boyfriends lips, finally feeling relieved from the confines of his clothing. you wrapped your hand around his shaft, stroking at a teasingly slow pace that made him grunt. you took your time with him, wanting him to savor every small motion you made as you kept eye contact with him the whole time. after a few slow strokes, you sank your mouth down onto him, absolutely reveling in the way the all time champion shakily groaned.

"oh— fuuck— , that's it.." he placed his hand on top of your head, biting his lower lip at the feeling of your warm mouth around his girth. you swirled your tongue around his cock skillfully, tracing the thick vein all the way down to the base, the dark hairs of his happy trail tickling your nose. he admired how talented you were at sucking his dick, and that tongue of yours — the way it prodded at his slit before taking him back into your mouth with hallowed cheeks — it drove him crazy beyond words. those lewd noises of you choking on his cock was almost enough to bring him to the brink of release, tasting the pre that leaked from his tip as you held onto his thighs for support.

his dick twitched against your tongue, letting you know he was getting close. "baby, mph— i'm close.. gonna cum in your pretty mouth, okay?" you nodded your head in response, your movements picking up pace as you sucking his cock faster, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat. you were growing needy yourself, one of your hands reaching down to rub your cunt through your leggings. your muffled moans sent vibrations against his shaft, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from how deep he was in your throat. at this rate he was panting like an animal in heat, desperate for release so he can hurry up and fill your pussy with his seed next. he placed his other hand on your head, using both of his hands to eagerly fuck his cock into your throat. tears fell down your cheeks from his tip reaching the depths of your mouth. "feels so good baby, shit.. i—i'm gonna—"

one, two, and three more thrusts had him leaning his head back with a drawn out moan, shooting his cum down your throat just like he said he would. you gripped onto his thigh tighter, not letting a single drop of his release go to waste. you swallowed every last bit of his cum, ignoring the salty and bitter aftertaste. "that's a good girl," he stroked your hair with a proud grin on his face, taking his still very much hard shaft out of your mouth. you stood up on your feet, wriothelsey immediately turning you around and bending you over the vanity while he tucked his face in the crook of your neck. "need to be inside you, please.. i need to fuck you, baby," you let out a giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his lips with a alluring smile, "go ahead, wrio.. this is your reward after all, right?" your voice was sweet like honey, yet had a hint of spice to it that sent your black haired boyfriend over the edge.

he spent no time in pulling your leggings and panties down to your ankles and disregarding them completely, just aching to be inside you already. he turned your face towards him by your chin, kissing you hungrily as two of his fingers rubbed circles around your clit. your moans were music to his ears, sending blood streaming straight to his throbbing cock. he gave his shaft a few strokes before pressing his tip against your hole that clenched around nothing, dying to be filled up by your champion of a lover. "gonna put in inside you now, okay?" you hummed, feeling his fat tip ease itself inside of you, sending a stinging sensation through your body. wriothesley was by no means small; he was quite literally big. so as he pushed his massive girth entirely inside you, you gasped at the sudden stretch, beginning to adjust to it.

"you alright, angel? did it hurt?" you loved how sweet he was, how much he wanted to make sure you were okay. that was just how he is, not wanting to hurt you at all. you shook your head, "i—i'm okay, wrio.. just hurry up..," you could hear him scoff, sliding out of you and bottoming out again into your cunt, ripping a moan out of you. "someones impatient, huh?" you nudged him softly leaning your head back on his shoulder as he slowly began to move his hips. "you're— mmf.. s—shit.. one to talk," your voice was shaky, covering your mouth to repress any further noises from reaching anywhere out of the room you both were in. "yeah, i suppose you're right," wriothesley's thrusts became more frequent, biting your lip at the pleasure of his cock in your greedy cunt.

he pressed soft kisses over the marks he left on you earlier, balls deep inside you with his pace quickening with each passing second. it felt like heaven inside of you, feeling your pussy grip onto his thick cock as he took hold of your jaw, turning your attention to the mirror in front of you. "want you to watch me fuck you, watch me earn this pretty reward," he bullied his length into your dripping cunt, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head. the pleasure took over your body completely, your vision going white as his tip repeatedly kissed that sweet spongey spot that made you see stars. you uncovered your mouth, drool sneaking passed the corners of your mouth and dripping down your chin.

you loved the way wriothesley fucked you, it was filled with love and lust even if it was rough at the same time. you can tell his movements were sturdy and skilled with the way his hips thrusted his cock deep within your womb, heat rising throughout your whole body. "you did so g—good today wrio, 'm so proud of you!" and you really were, you were so so proud of him. and even though you meant that in a totally innocent way, it set something off inside of the man fucking you from behind. he cursed under his breath, his dick somehow getting bigger inside of you. "w—wrio? you—"

"say it again. tell me how proud you are of me."

you didn't think he'd be the type of person so be into being praised, let alone get aroused by it. but you didn't mind at all, because you truly were extremely proud of him. you know how hard he worked to get where he is now. "i—i'm so so proud of you wrio, y—you did so good out there!" he chuckled to himself, his thrusts becoming more erratic and his heavy breaths turning into feral growls. he loved when you praised him, told him how good he did during his matches. he was an all-time winner, all because of you. and because of his hard work, but mainly you. "ngh.. f—fuck baby, it's all 'cause of you," his thrusts remotely became erratic, unable to stop the reckless pace of his hips slapping against your ass.

your back arched dangerously, allowing your boxing champion to sink his cock deeper within your walls, abusing your cervix in a way that had your legs trembling. wriothesley caught sight of your wavering legs, an idea forming inside that mischievous head of his. without warning, he lifted you up by your thighs, holding them with a fierce grip in his large hands. he fucked up into your pussy harshly, a gravelly groan leaving him as he did so. you could see his cock slip in and out of you through the mirror, watching him split you open with his girthy shaft. "w—wrio! too d—deep!" your moans only got louder, almost positive people from outside the room could hear what you both were up to. "shit, princess, look at you..," he latched his teeth onto your shoulder, wanting to mark you up as much as possible.

"fuck.. i'm gonna cum soon," his thrusts had gotten sloppy, pace faltering too, feeling his cock twitch eagerly against your gummy insides. "i—inside.. c—cum inside wrio.." your expression was all fucked out; mouth agape, tongue lolled out, practically begging him to empty his load into your womb. those words had only turned him on even more, a chuckle leaving him, "well shit, baby, gladly," his pace picked up instantly, his grip on your thighs now deadly as he pounded into you from below. you leaned your head back onto his shoulder, feeling that heat build up in the pit of your stomach. "c—cumming! i'm cumming—!" it didn't take long for that coil to unravel, squirting all over his cock, your juices coating the mirror in front of you. wriothesley was on the verge of cumming too once feeling your pussy pulse around him, sending blood rushing throughout his body.

a few more thrusts against your g-spot had him spilling his warm cum inside of you, a deep, shaky moan erupting from your boyfriend. you both took a minute to catch your breaths, you clearly losing all feeling in your lower body. he set you down on the vanity, grabbing your panties from the ground and slipping them up halfway. "wrio..?" you looked at him, only to be met with his scheming gaze. he watched as his cum seeped out of your gaping hole, using two digits to scoop his seed back up and push it inside of you. until then, that's when he slipped your panties up all the way. a wave of heat coated your cheeks letting out a content scoff. "can't let it go to waste now, can we?" you rolled your eyes at his comment, unable to stop yourself from smiling. "hmm, i guess not."

after getting you all dressed, himself included — him only having to zip up his pants and whatnot — he leaned closely into your ear, placing his hand over your tummy, giving it slow rubs. "after all, i don't mind having another cheerleader to cheer me on," he pressed his lips against yours, kissing you slow and passionately before continuing, "that would be a pretty amazing reward, no?"

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut

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burrowlvrr · 10 months ago

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— ANXIOUS VICTORY, joe burrow.

PAIRING: Joe Burrow 𝔁 Black!Wife!Reader

GENRE: Husband & Dad Joe

SUMMARY: In which — Y/N has her mind set on attending Joe's game with their three year old twins, Hudson and Elijah, but Joe has his worries due to her blossoming pregnancy.

NOTE: Fair warning, this is kind of long because I enjoy reading long stories/imagines. Feedback is appreciated as well as your support. I apologize for any spelling errors or mistakes. Feel free to send me more ideas and suggestions, enjoy!

UNIVERSE: Tenderhearts & Touchdowns!

The Burrow home was warm, dimly lit, and smelled of tomato sauce. Joe and Y/N's three year old twins, Hudson and Elijah, were sprawled out on their living room rug, scribbling away in their new Paw Patrol coloring books. Y/N was washing a few more dishes as she waited for the garlic bread in the oven, and Joe was setting the table as he usually did to help his wife. He had just placed the twins' booster seats on their plush dining chairs as the oven began to beep — indicating that it was time for him to rush to the kitchen, so he could get the bread out of the oven before Y/N. He entered the kitchen just in time, seeing his wife bent over sliding an oven mitt on her hand.

"No, ma'am." He spoke, placing his right hand on the small of her back. "I'll do it."

Y/N straightened her back, smiling at the blonde man as she slid the oven mitt off of her hand. "I'm perfectly capable of grabbing a pan of breadsticks, honey." She said, earning a small chuckle from her husband.

"I know, mama." He took the oven mitt from her, moving it onto his much larger hand. "I just wanna make sure you don't strain yourself too much." The volume of his voice descended as he bent over, and quickly opened the oven before removing the fresh breadsticks from it. Y/N couldn't help but blush from how considerate her husband was, how he always had been. He was the exact same level of protective when she was pregnant with Hudson and Elijah, only he was much more anxious because they were the first pregnancy.

"I'll fix all of our plates." He placed the pan on the counter, throwing the oven mitt to the side. "You go grab the monsters. The food'll be on the table when you get back." He finished, placing a quick kiss to her forehead before she turned and exited the kitchen.

Waddling into the dimly lit living room, she slowly crouched down to her children's level. "Hi, mama." Hudson chirped. "Hey, mommy!" Elijah cheesed, both of them looking up from their coloring books for the first time in over ten minutes.

"Hey, champs." She ran a hand over their unruly blonde curls, "Are you guys hungry? Daddy is getting your favorite ready."

Their little blue eyes immediately widened in excitement, lifting up from their stomachs to their feet. "Sketti?" He showed his bright teeth as he looked at his mother, Elijah put a hand on his head, looking up at the ceiling with a groan.

"Ugh! We always have sketti, guys!" Y/N giggled at Hudson's excitement and Elijah's annoyance before nodding her head. "Yeah. Sorry, buddy. Sketti is really good and easy for mommy to make." Elijah crossed his arms over his chest with a smirk, giving his mother a knowing look.

"We have to clean up our mess before we eat, though. Okay?" Y/N said, her boys seemingly standing at attention now.

They nodded their heads. "Yes, ma'am!" They chirped, plopping down to their knees. Hudson grabbed their coloring books and neatly stacked them on the table, while Elijah quickly threw their crayons into a large pencil box. He closed the lid before Hudson threw their coloring books on top, grabbing it and sliding it on the table next to their long couch. "All done!" Y/N smiled brightly at her boys, feeling her heart swell with joy knowing how well her and Joe had been raising their boys.

She took her time to rise to her feet, being mindful of her big belly. Once she stood up straight, her boys reached out for her hand and began leading her into the dining room. Joe's face lit up seeing his favorite people, the twins released their mother's hand before running to their father's side instead. "Hey, dudes!" Joe smiled, placing the final plate down on the table and engulfing his sons into a tight hug. "You guys ready to eat?"

Y/N smiled as the boys vigorously nodded their heads. Joe placed them in their booster seats one at a time, where they immediately picked up their small forks and shoveled noodles into their mouths. Joe pulled his wife's chair out as usual, rubbing her shoulder gently once she sat down. "Thank you." She said, placing her napkin on her thigh.

The dining room was consumed by the quiet. The only noise being the scraping of forks on the plates, and the exaggerated slurping sound from the twins eating their dinner. Dinner always went this way, the first few minutes are quiet, then once Y/N starts slowly becoming full she breaks the silence. She finished chewing her garlic bread, wiping her mouth with her napkin before placing it down on the table. Her eyes sparked with enthusiasm, "Guess what, honey? The boys and I were thinking of coming to your game this weekend!"

Joe with a mouthful of spaghetti noodles, glanced over at their lively toddlers, and couldn't help but feel a wave of concern. "You sure about that, babe? The game can get pretty chaotic, especially with the boys being so energetic, and, well, you being pregnant." He said, his tone laced with concern as he spoke.

His wife only smiled, her eyes reflecting her determination. "I know it might be a lot, but they love watching you play, and I want them to experience that excitement. Plus, the baby can hear the crowd cheering, right?" She suggested. She was right, if they went, it would be her and the twins' first game in a while due to her pregnancy's waves of sickness. She had been feeling great all week, and had been itching to see Joe in action on the field.

Joe sighed as he placed his fork down, torn between wanting his family there and worrying about their well-being. "I just don't want it to be too much for you." He looked at his wife, "The stadium can get pretty loud, and the boys are two big bundles of energy."

Look, Y/N was pregnant, almost a week past her five month mark. Her belly wasn't huge, but it most definitely wasn't little either. She had been sick for most of the pregnancy so far, and sometimes between the pain it was fairly easy for her to become aggravated. Joe was very understanding in those times, and was always sweet to her no matter her attitude. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I appreciate your concern, Joe, but we can handle it."

Hudson, completely oblivious to the conversation, was busy playing with his food. While Elijah was occasionally mimicking the cheers of a football crowd. As the dinner conversation continued, Joe could sense Y/N's irritation slowly rising even though she was doing pretty well at containing it. "I don't know, babe. Can I just think about it a bit more?" He asked genuinely, looking toward his wife with brooding eyes.

She forced a small smile as she huffed out her nose, "Yeah, sure." She replied, standing from her seat and gathering her plate and silverware. "I think I'm gonna take a bubble bath. Can you put the boys to bed?"

Joe nodded, eyeing his wife's body language as she walked into the kitchen to put her dishes away. She came back into the dining room, placing a kiss on Hudson and Elijah's tomato splattered cheeks before making her way up the stairs. She didn't look at Joe again, letting him know that she truly was irritated with him now and he would have to smooth things over before bed.

He looked toward his twins with a smile, "You full?"

★

Y/N took her time in the bathtub. She felt guilty about leaving dinner abruptly, but she knew Joe would come around, even if it took just a little bit of time. Although she didn't feel up for a conversation right now, she wished Joe would come upstairs already because she hated being upset with him. That was really the only downside of her pregnancy, she was always so emotional and found herself getting irritated with her husband much easier. She finally decided to step out of the bathtub, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her body.

Joe figured Y/N wanted to be alone for a bit longer, so once he had the boys sound asleep in their race car shaped beds, he went back downstairs and cleaned up the mess left behind by dinner. Y/N had just slipped out of the bathroom, when Joe quietly shut the door to their shared bedroom. He almost winced as he watched his wife walk right past him, grabbing some clothes before going back into their bathroom.

He sat down at the foot of their bed, thinking about how he should approach his wife on the soft topic. Once he had an idea, he untucked their sheets, set his alarms and turned on their bedside lamp. Trading his sweater and jeans for a pair of sweatpants, he made his way over to the bathroom door. He hesitated for a moment, before lifting his hand to softly knock on the door. "Y/N, can I come in, please?"

He heard a faint response, slowly opening the door to find his wife standing at the sink, applying a lotion to her under eyes. He took a moment to examine her features, a look of frustration and hurt was on her face. "I didn't mean to upset you and I'm sorry if it came across in the wrong way." Joe began, his voice filled with remorse. "I just worry about you guys at the game."

Y/N turned to face Joe, seeing the look of guilt and worry on his face. "I know, I just feel like you don't want us there or something." She tried to hush the last part of her sentence, but Joe heard her loud and clear. He could tell by the way her bottom lip began to puff out, she was slowly getting closer to a breakdown. He instantly brought his hands to her cheeks, running his thumbs over her under eyes. "I thought we were supposed to share these moments as a f—family." She stuttered, and her vision blurred from the tears that began to burn her eyes. Her pregnancy was effecting her emotions more than ever right now, and that alone was irritating her more than Joe.

"That's the last thing that I want." Joe said, "I'm just really worried, that's all." Y/N nodded her head, feeling a wave of defeat wash over her body. She nodded her head slowly, as she reached up to remove Joe's hands from her face. "Okay, honey."

Joe felt so guilty, hesitated before he decided to speak up again. He reached Y/N's hand before she could grab the door knob, "Hold up, you gotta let me finish." He said, causing his wife to look up at him with tired eyes. "Maybe it's just my nerves talking. I want you and the boys there more than anything. You just gotta promise me you'll take it easy, okay? Don't go all wifey-bear if I get sacked and scream so loud you lose your voice." Her eyes instantly lit up, she stood up straight to adjust her slouching shoulders.

"You know I can't promise that, Joey." She joked, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I won't do too much screaming, I don't wanna scare my boys just yet." Joe could see how her mood had already changed, a warm smile of his own forming on his face.

"I'll bring them some ear protection, and I'll even keep your parents on speed dial if I need anything." She reassured his worries, a wave of relief washing over his features as he swept a few stray curls from her forehead. He rested his hand on her cheek, looking into her eyes lovingly. "Okay, mama." He whispered, licking his lips as his eyes grazed over her whole face.

Y/N noticed the way he wet his bottom lip, "Just gonna keep starin' at me, or are you gonna kiss me?" She teased, looking up at her much taller husband. Joe didn't think twice before placing a soft kiss to his wife's lips, pulling away much quicker than she wanted him to. He peeled back with a smirk, leaning over her shoulder to open to bathroom door. "Let's get some sleep."

He helped her into their large bed, throwing the blankets over her, she instantly pulled them up to her chin. Joe made his way to his respective side of the bed, sliding in the sheets beside his wife, who mindlessly scooted closer to him and laid her head on his chest. "I'm sorry for blowing that whole thing out of proportion." She apologized, tracing shapes onto her husband's chest.

Joe shook his head, rubbing circles on her shoulder. "You have nothing to apologize for, Y/N. Just because you're pregnant, doesn't mean you can't make your own decisions. I failed to recognize that. I'm sorry, baby." Joe apologized right back, causing his wife to look up at him with a remorseful expression on her face.

"It's alright, Joey. I get that you were just worried." She responded, moving her ring clad hand to his cheek, rubbing the stubble that he knew she loved so much. "I promise you, Hudson and Elijah are gonna have so much fun, it'll all be so worth it." Joe smiled warmly, thinking of the smile that will never leave their faces once they're at the game. It's not like it would be their first game, it'll just be their first one since their mom found out she was pregnant with their younger sibling.

"I know." Joe replied, watching as his wife's eyes clearly began to get heavier to hold open. He grabbed her hand from his cheek, moving it to his lips before kissing her palm. "Goodnight, mama. I love you."

"Goodnight, Joey. I love you more."

★

The stadium buzzed with anticipation as the Bengals star quarterback prepared for the upcoming game. A subtle layer of worry masked his usual game-day focus, even after the conversations he'd had with his wife a few nights before. His five month pregnant wife, Y/N, and their wildly energetic three year old boys, Hudson and Elijah, were attending the game tonight.

Joe paced nervously around the locker room, glancing at his phone for any updates. The last time Y/N had texted him was the let him know they were getting snacks first, seeing as she didn't want to be up and around much during the game. He couldn't shake the concern about any potential challenges of having his family amidst the excitement of a football game.

"Everything okay, Joe?" Tee Higgins inquired, noticing the furrowed brow. He chewed a piece of bubblegum harshly, cocking his head to the side to look at his quarterback.

"Yeah, just a bit worried. Y/N's pregnant and the boys can be quite the handful. I want them to enjoy the game, but it's chaotic out there." Joe admitted.

His teammate, understanding the delicate balance between family and the intensity of the game, offered a reassuring nod. "They'll be fine. Your family is strong, just like you, man."

Just then, their coach gathered all their attention and Joe quickly thanked Tee for his understanding before grabbing his helmet.

As game time approached, Joe couldn't help but steal glances at the stands. When he spotted Y/N, her baby bump noticeable, with Hudson and Elijah, wide-eyed with excitement, a mix of anxiety and joy flooded their emotions. They both wore some ear protection that looked like it could weigh their head down if they leaned to one side, he smiled seeing his wife's hand raise in the air to give him an excited wave.

Y/N watched the whole game on the edge of her seat, occasionally standing up despite her best efforts to stay seated — trying her best to follow Joe's safety requests. Hudson's smile never fell, he was screaming louder than anyone in their section for his father. Elijah clapped in excitement, looking over at his mother and pointing to his father every three or so minutes. They had been to a few games before, but they were a little older and had a better understanding of the sport. They were already talking about playing it once they started school next year.

Y/N clapped her hands loudly as halftime finally approached, she knew Joe would be over there soon. Not even ten minutes later, her blue eyed husband was standing in front of them on the sidelines. "Hey, you guys okay?" he greeted, a touch of concern in his eyes.

"We're doing great, honey. And so are you." Y/N smiled, reaching her hand down to touch Joe's. Joe smiled widely, relieved to know that his family was enjoying themselves. Hudson and Elijah, both bouncing with enthusiasm, chimed in, "Daddy, did you see us? We waved at you!"

Joe's worry melted into a grin. "I saw, guys!" He reached up high to touch both of his son's heads. "That's awesome. Just make sure you're having fun, okay? And both of you be good for mama!"

Due to his coach's demands, Joe had to jog to the locker room after their interaction. Y/N, Hudson and Elijah waved him goodbye and took their seats until the second half.

As the game progressed, Joe felt a newfound motivation fueled by the presence of his family. Y/N, attuned to his emotions, whispered words of encouragement, both calming and inspiring. Meanwhile, Hudson and Elijah's cheers echoed through the stadium, each one a source of pride for his quarterback father. The Bengals came out on top, the game ending with a touchdown made by a pass from Joe. After the game, Y/N grabbed all of their belongings and both of her sons hands, being careful as they went up and down steps. They stood outside the locker room as she'd done since her and Joe began dating in college, both her and her boys bouncing with anticipation for the man to come out to them.

Once he emerged from the locker room, he swung his bag to his back, took Hudson onto his hip and hugged his wife with one arm around her neck. Y/N held Elijah on her hip as well. "You guys made this win even sweeter. Thanks for being here." he said, genuine gratitude in his eyes.

Y/N hugged him tightly, "We wouldn't miss it for the world. We're your biggest fans, no matter the chaos." She raised a hand to rank through his blonde hair, tears prickling in her eyes. They weren't tears of sadness or fear, just tears of pure happiness.

As they left the stadium, the Burrow family walked hand in hand, the worries of the game day transformed into a cherished memory. In that moment, Joe realized that having his wife and sons by his side added a layer of joy and support that went beyond the triumphs on the field. They were a team, weathering the excitement and challenges together, creating a bond that extended far beyond the football game.

#joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow angst #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #dad!joe burrow #joe burrow x black reader #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fic #joe burrow blurb #nfl imagine

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2aceofspades · 7 months ago

Text

TW: Blood/Injury, Implied Death

_______________________________________________

With you

Lil one-shot I guess...??

_______________________________________________

After the dust cleared, it was dead silent. The air was thick with moisture from the dark clouds looming above them all. Someone, probably Raphael, yelled out something Two didn't quite process, his ears still ringing as his vision slowly cleared.

A faint blue glow flickered in the near distance, not too far from where Two was slumped on the ground. More muffled shouts rang out as Two attempted to collect himself, staggering to his feet and trudging over to the source of-

No.

Just the image alone was enough to bring Two collapsing back to his knees. Stupid, he thought.

"H-hey..." One's weak voice just barely got through to Two, snapping him right out of his thoughts.

He stared down at the dimming blue glow, watching it flicker and fade in and out. How the hell are you still here, breathing?

His thoughts became flooded in his head, even more so as he felt his arms cradle his brother's near-lifeless body.

"Did we win?"

Two felt his jaw clench at One's question, feeling frighteningly close to grinding his teeth until they were flat.

Did we win?

The question echoed in Two’s head, as if that would better help him process this moment. In any other instance, he would have deflected and scoffed at such an empty, meaningless question. Did it matter? he thought as he titled his head up, looking around briefly at the wasteland that surrounded them. It was over, that much was apparent.

"Yes,” he huffed, looking down at his brother in his arms as he continued, “Now, shut it and save your strength. Your heart-"

"I know," One croaked out in between a few sputtering breaths, interrupting Two in more ways than one. Two tried to ignore the cast-off of blood coming from his brother's mouth, despising the sickening feeling settling in his stomach as it hit his chin. One smiled weakly up at his brother, his eyes dull and unfocused.

How dare you, Two thought to himself.

His eyes flickered from One's exposed heart, bleeding out and hardly beating, and back to his brother’s face. His brother looked beaten, bloody...broken. It wasn't a look he saw from him often, if at all. It was that damn smile that he watched waver as One's heart beat softer and softer. What cruel irony, Two couldn't help but think, a metaphorical expression brought to life by his stupid, thoughtless, idiotic brother.

Two could still fix this. Even as he held his brother tighter against his own plastron and felt his shirt get soaked by the horrid mix of blood and empyrean; he thought to himself how he'd be the one to fix this.

There was no other choice left.

“Good…” One let out the softest of chuckles, “…we…we can s-start over.”

Something in Two’s own chest faltered, even just briefly. It was enough to shut out the feeling of One’s pathetic coughs and wheezes against him. He watched how One's eyes dulled further, his gaze wandering away from Two's face.

Starting over? That wasn’t ever an option, not one that Two had ever weighed in his mind. He wasn’t sure if that was even an option now. After everything he had done, everything he sacrificed, worked for…his brother still wanted to burn it, bury everything down and out of Two’s reach. One wanted this win, he wanted the impossible.

“Impossible…” Two muttered under his breath.

He heard yet another faint chuckle. And then the dense silence that followed.

_______________________________________________

~bonus doodles~

(':

#emd fanart #acey doodles #i was in a mood #still in that mood #i'm just a goon with my angsty ideas..#letting that angst just simmer for now #oof #also i am not a writer so i'm cringing right along with y'all 🫣#i just wanted to draw and write something for this amazing au that inspires me endlessly ♥️#i'm at a loss for words at just how greatly this au inspires me seriously the story and the lore and the art just move me so much #i am a sad sap but i am free 🥲#also #i'm sorry for hurting your boy somni 😳 even if it's just a one-shot *bu-dum tsk*#*skitters away*#Spotify #:)

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euhla · 8 months ago

Text

i said, “do u think u’ll kill for me one day?” (yes, of course i will, my darling)

dottore x gn!reader. lyric from national anthem (demo). mentions of killing or murder / possessiveness / mentions of dottore’s real name / pet names / cursing / slight ?? yandere / ooc ( kinda soft dottore ). english is not my first language !

You know that Dottore, or your boss is a mad man who does as he pleases—at least that's what people think. But he always acts a little differently to you, which clearly shows favoritism. An act of favoritism that is certainly not left to some other people.

Other people try to take advantage, by asking you to make dottore do something. The most common thing that happens is when they ask you to beg dottore to release their newest prisoner (?) that became the subject of Dottore's experiments who is either their family or friend or partner.

And of course, you’re not happy with it.

You are not a tool to fulfill their wishes. And they were merely just strangers who suddenly came to ask for help, without repaying.

You are pissed.

But also scared at the same time.

Just now you came out of the room called the ‘sacred’ dottore's office. But a stranger who you guess is a new worker just by looking at his impolite behavior, suddenly grabs your arm and takes you somewhere.

“What the heck?!” You yelp. Ignoring the fact that the stranger's hands were shaking violently.

The stranger is now facing you. While his hand was still gripping yours tightly, to the point where you were in pain. "P- please help me!"

You let out a harsh sigh. "No, i won't help you. Thanks to your very impolite behavior.”

“W- w- wait! What do you mean?! This is urgent, and you must help me!” The audacity, you curse him in your mind.

“I said no!” Those three words managed to make him angry instantly.

“You—you should know your place! Is it because you managed to tempt The Doctor with your body and face means you can do whatever you want?!” You winced at his words, it felt like you were being stabbed by a knife, even though you know that it's all not true.

“If you will not tell that crazy man to free my friend—I will cut off your head, and present it to him.” You just looked at him in disgust thinking that he was a strange man. A disgusting strange man.

“Fuck off!” You yell at him.

Long story short, you managed to release his grip. But you couldn't help but notice the bruise on your wrist. You are increasingly annoyed and decide to end all this in an ‘inelegant’ way; using your heels, you stomp on his feet full of revenge. It should hurt a lot, you think.

And when you saw his reaction of pain and screaming, you immediately ran as fast as you could. Your body feels like it's on autopilot when you subconsciously search for someone you know too well— A tall and pale skin man, with light blue and slightly wavy hair, which makes anyone know his identity. And makes anyone afraid and even begs for mercy.

And there he was, standing straight with his hands behind his back like always.

“—tore,” Your breath hitches but tries to reach for his name.

“Dottore!” The man— Dottore looked at you quickly, as if he had been looking for you all along. He opened his arms, making room for you to fall into his embrace again. And you (will) happily return to his arms.

“Zandik!” You call his name once again, as if it were a spell that could make you happy for eternity. “Yes, dear?”

He lifted your chin, making you look up at him. His hand moved to wipe away a few tears that had fallen. Ah, since when have i cried? Why did i cry?

“What happened?” His calm voice made you shudder. You tightened your grip on his white lab jacket. And you know it won't cause him any pain.

You shake your head. "Nothing happened."

“Something happened,” His other hand, covered in a glove made especially for him, is now cupping your cheek. And his other hand, stroking your hair. “Am i right?”

The words are reluctant to come out and get stuck in your throat. You were too afraid to answer, too afraid to imagine what would happen to that stranger.

Silence enveloped the room. You only feel warmth, whether because of the heater in the room or because of Dottore's touch.

Knowing there would be no answer from you, dottore sighed. He placed you to sit on his desk. The desk was a little messy because of the papers, but there was still a place for you to sit.

Dottore's head lifted so he could see your face and what expression you were wearing right now— scared, with traces of tears.

His hand again rose to cup your cheek, then traced every curve on your face that he thought was beautiful. The touch felt strangely soft. Knowing that it was a touch from The Doctor— someone who had killed many people in order to achieve perfect experimental results.

And when he was about to hold your hand, he noticed something. A bruise on your wrist, a fucking bruise. That somewhat pissed him off.

“Who did this to you?” You can easily tell that he is angry, by the way he talks and the questions he asks.

“It’s— it’s just a random bruise i got—” “Stop lying.”

You were silenced quickly.

“You’re always been patient when other people try to take advantage of you,” Dottore's calm voice was whispery. If he knew about it all along, why did he continue to comply with your request?

Dottore closed his eyes for a moment, trying to connect the dots. “Someone asked you for help again? And you refuse, then they gets angry?” You nod.

“Is it a new employee?” You nod again.

“Tell me about them.” You told him straight away.

Dottore nodded. He noted it in his mind.

Out of sudden, you cupped Dottore's face. Cold, is the first thing that comes to your mind. Everything about him was cold, and so was his skin. You saw his pale face, but you couldn't guess what expression he had behind his mask.

As if he could read your mind, he took off the mask that covered part of his face. He put the mask right next to you.

“You’re not angry?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“Why?”

“Because i touch you– i touch your face.”

“Foolish question. Absolutely no.”

Dottore's hand covered yours that was touching his face. Maybe dottore can see your cheeks are a little red right now. Maybe now that stranger is scared right now that you managed run away.

You kissed Dottore's forehead as a thank you.

“I'll take care of it quickly.” And you can't imagine what experiments Dottore would do to the stranger.

#konstelasiv fanfic #dottore x reader #dottore fluff #genshin dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore x y/n #dottore x female reader #il dottore x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin dottore #genshin hcs

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evilminji · 1 year ago

Text

You know what? I just had A Thought(tm)~☆

Danny. Our bby boy. MINDING HIS BUSINESS. Maybe visiting one of his buddies in the Realms after he graduates. When he just?? Get full on tackled from the sky.

And like?

Huh.

THIS hasn't happened in a bit. Not since he's become king. Legit, no one dares. He's honestly kinda missed it. Alright, square up... Mr. Uuuuuh.... Who are you?

And it's this barely formed New Ghost. Still in that glitch-y goopy blob phase and everything. Is Baby. Why... why does this infant Want To Fight God? I mean. He Respects It(tm), no lie, but? Not exactly usual for him?

And it turns out? This dude is some rando hero. He basicly JUST died. By all rights SHOULD be resting and gathering his strength to Form Right. But he's so worried for his team mates and everyone else he CAN'T. Recognized a fellow Hero's Costume even at a distance.

Please. PLEASE! You have to help him! We have to WARN everybody!

And Danny is just? Oh no. This Actual Infant Baby is gonna Anxiety himself to Actual Second Death at this rate. Yes! Sure! Just CALM DOWN! Anything you need buddy! BREATHE.

And this dude? Who died? Is legit a minor player who got WAY too deep but refused to abandoned People In Need(tm). It happens. It HURTS. But he saved a LOT of lives before he went down. Him and his team were just some Minor Heros from Belarus. How they ended up in deep space? Even THEY couldn't tell you.

They couldn't even bring him home.

He forgives them.

He could NEVER blame his friends. Not for this. The planet is in danger. Some... some THING. An invasion. The League has to be made aware. He DIED helping a planet try to evacuate all that they could. He... at least he...

He can't remember if the Eggs got out. They... they're like babies. A whole room full of toddlers who couldn't run. They had to de-connect from the main building to lift it out. He can't... can't...

He saved them... right? Held on.. long enough? Why can't he.. he...

Danny has to make him focus be for the kid spirals. Don't think of your last moments. Purpose. You NEED to do something right now, right?

Right! The League! We gotta warn them! And... okay. Danny can totally do that. (What LEAGUE??!) He DEFINITELY knows who you are talking about and will tell them Right Away. YOU however are gonna rest up.

So he leaves the kiddo with Lunch Lady. Mother and Frightening Matriarch Extraordinaire. Lunch Box promises to SIT on him if he tries to sneak off. Good kid. Now eat your soup before you BECOME soup.

Time to bully the eyeballs. Whoms't the F*ck is this "league"? And where does he find it? Talk. He has sand and he's not afraid to use it. Don't MAKE him get out the pepper grinder! Yeah. That's what he THOUGHT.

After much, prolonged and unnecessary, whining and dramatic threatening... he gets a printed out map. Cheapskates even used flimsy paper. He gets there. Jaunt is even kinda nice. He says hi to a few folks he hasn't seen in a while.

Opens a portal.

Steps out.

Gets punched in the face. RUDE! He punches the flying blue man back. Dents their wall. Not even a LITTLE sorry about that now! See if HE does you a favor aga-... is that his Ex? John?

John! Constantine you B@STARD. YOU OWE ME 20 BUCKS. *Ten different hands slap a twenty on the table at his feet, including Constantine. Who is refusing to look at anybody.* Well, okay then. Debt payed. Gonna buy himself a shake or something, after this.

ANYWAY~ Good News Or Bad News?

He is met with silence. It's like they've never seen an ethereal, giant, glowing man with a suit that looks like a cut out of the night sky, step out of an eye searing rip in reality before. Man they're lives must be boring. But frankly? Danny can wait. It's not HIS reality that's gonna get messed up. He can take care of it if the wanna be Wah Babies. Good News or Bad News??? Pick one.

He sits back in the air and waits.

@stealingyourbones @cyrwrites

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #Message From Beyond AU #danny totally showed up mid-meeting #yes superman is mildly concussed #to be fair though #Kryptonians get the spookies around ghosts Super Easy #he panicked OKAY #Constantine gets around #this is actually the most amicable Ex hes run into in a while #wanna hook up in a closet?#john no they say #john YES he informs them

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hiramaris · 7 months ago

Text

Kiss it Off Me

CHAPTER 6

Chapter Summary:

"You were avoiding me." Haley finally said, and she commended her voice from not shaking. "You don't want to dance with me." "I..." You seemed taken aback by Haley's observation. "I wasn't..."

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer: I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: none i think?

Notes:

The most awaited Flower Festival. Buckle up, simps.

Spring 24

Four days.

Four freaking days since you had abruptly decided to avoid her.

And yes, she's definitely counting it.

What she didn't get is why? Why the sudden aversion?

Haley had tried to rack her brain for any reason, just anything but she couldn't find any. She tried to recall the events that night.

Haley took you home from the saloon because your ass was so drunk you couldn't even stand on your own feet without tripping.

And then there's... that.

With a heavy sigh, Haley placed her white dress for the flower dance on her bed.

She should have been excitedly preparing for the upcoming dance, but the stupid farmer had been occupying her mind today.

Even yesterday.

And even the day before that, and the day after that.

After your sudden declaration of 'feelings?' (yes, she's questioning because what the hell does that mean?), Haley had found herself speechless for the umpteenth time that night.

She couldn't find her voice, or rather, she didn't know how to respond to that. Fortunately, before she could, you shook your head as if you had said something silly.

Your moment of soberness dissipated completely as you slumped back to Haley. You had been a bit cooperative after that as both of you were able to go to your farm without any further hitch.

Haley was all but familiar with your farm. She had occasionally taken her pictures here when Old Railey was alive. She was fond of him.

He was kind and he kind of reminded her of her grandma. When he died, there was a large part of Haley that still grieves for him until now. Which is maybe why she was a bit apprehensive at you when she first came. At Haley's little time at Pelican town, she knew how much Old Railey sacrificed for the farm, to see it run down like that and be given to a complete stranger— a city girl no less, never mind you're his granddaughter.

But as she stood at the entrance of the farm, with the same farmer she loathed beside her, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as she saw the state of the farm for the first time since you moved here.

The once-overgrown grass and unruly weeds that had taken over the farm were now perfectly tamed. A neatly constructed wooden path led towards what Haley assumed was your cabin.

Despite the darkness surrounding her, she could spot a variety of spring crops flourishing in the distance. Blue jazz, cauliflower, green beans, parsnips, and many others were thriving under your care. While there were still renovations to be done, Haley couldn't help but be impressed by how well you were doing. As if you're really meant for farming.

The cabin looks freshly renovated, too. Last time she heard it was a bit crusty and on the verge of collapsing.

As Haley stepped into your home, she was greeted by a small ginger cat. The feline locked eyes with her for a moment, assessing her presence before realizing she meant no harm and had come with her owner.

Sensing Haley's intention, the cat let out a loud meow, leading her towards a closed door on the right, which she assumed to be your room.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Haley had managed to settle you on the bed and was ready to head home herself. However, it appeared that you had other plans.

You suddenly sat up straight and grabbed her hand as if sensing Haley was about to leave.

Haley looked at you, waiting expectantly.

And then it happened.

There's vomit.

It was everywhere—on Haley's pajamas, the blankets, and even your own shirt.

Haley wanted to scream in frustration, but worry had won over her disgust as she heard you have a coughing fit. She gently shook your shoulders, trying to get your attention.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern lacing her words.

"I'm..." you coughed, voice strained, "my head hurts..."

And that's the sole reason Haley has to borrow some set of clothes from the farmer's wardrobe, change the bed sheets and blankets—

And...

Change your clothes.

The memory made Haley's cheeks burn with embarrassment, but she had no other choice. There was no way she could sleep beside you with vomit-stained sheets, and you smelling like that.

Haley's face flushed with embarrassment as a sudden realization hit her like a ton of Emily's hippie rocks.

Oh...

There's also one bed. You and her slept on the same bed.

So, it kinda makes sense now.

Why in Yoba's name has she just realized this now?

No wonder Emily had given her a funny look earlier when she had returned that morning wearing obviously your varsity shirt.

Haley had also completely missed the bright, bold letters spelling out "L/N" stitched on the back of the shirt, which is also why Penny couldn't look at her in the eyes when they crossed paths that morning when the redhead decided to visit you at the farm to check on you.

Yoba.

They must have thought that you and her had slept together.

And maybe you thought that, too as well.

The thought made Haley cringe and she facepalmed at the awkwardness of the situation.

It certainly didn't help that you couldn't remember anything from that night after your eighth bottle.

And to add to the mix-up, you had to wake up with a hangover and everything and seeing Haley casually cooking breakfast in your house while wearing your shirt.

It was practically a neon signboard pointing at her as if saying "hey, last night was an absolute blast, why don't I make you some breakfast while I'm here?"

Just great.

This is an absolute disaster.

****

"Is she joining the dance?" Haley wondered aloud, her eyes fixed on you who was engaged in a conversation with Penny, Maru, and Harvey.

"Hmm?" Alex paused in his fidgeting, adjusting his suit that had somehow grown on him. He followed Haley's gaze and spotted you amidst the group. "Oh, you mean Old Mac? I don't think so."

Haley turned to him with furrowed eyebrows," Old Mac? What's with you and all these people calling her all sorts of names? Why can't you just call her Y/n and stick with it?"

"Whoa, slow down, cowgirl." Alex barked out a laugh at her sudden outburst. "What's got your panties in a twist?"

"Nothing!" Haley replied, trying to brush off her frustration. Deep down, though, the different names people used for you bothered her more than she cared to admit.

And the worst of it all is she doesn't know why she's pissed.

She turned away as she began pacing back and forth in the middle of the performance area.

She needs to practice her moves. Despite being crowned the flower queen for five consecutive years and having the dance steps etched into her muscle memory, she didn't want to be so full of herself.

But in reality, she was just trying her absolute best to not let her eyes settle on someone who wasn't even looking her way.

Which she have found to be a challenge.

You looked dashing, if Haley would dare admit that aloud.

Your hair is down too in its slick, natural wave, which you usually tied up in a messy ponytail.

You looked pretty similar to the way you looked when you first arrived in the town though you forgo the black slacks in exchange of a more brighter blue one, the same shade of the ridiculous suits the men wore for the dance which have made her assume you'll be dancing as well.

But with whom?

Usually, there are already designated partners for the dance and it would be quite impossible for you to learn the steps in just a month.

Maybe Penny? Leah? Or that weirdo that dyes her head blue all the time? She assumed you were close with her when you dominated all the eggs Abigail was after which earned the kids to win during the egg festival.

Whatever.

Why would she care anyway? You weren't even looking in her direction. Not even noticing that Haley did her hair differently or that she had chosen to apply a more natural make-up because you told her she's pretty enough without them.

"Ah!"

The sound of cry from Alex had made her dash towards his place in alarm.

Sam was immediate to his side, along with the other townspeople. "What happened?" she asked in urgent.

"Sorry, pal. I may have thrown it a bit too far." Sam scratched his neck in shame.

"Samson!" Jodi angrily admonished her son. "Look just what you did!"

"Ow..." Alex grunted as he tried to reach for his foot. "I think I broke my ankle."

"Can you stand?" You questioned as you helped him up. "Why'd you even bring your grid ball here?"

"H-hah. I can but I don't think I can walk it off. Hey, gramps. Mind if I borrow your wheels?" He tried to joke it off.

"Alexander!" Evelyn wasn't pleased with ay all with his humor.

"Heh, I'll give you this if I could go back home and watch TV."

"George! Don't even encourage him."

"Ehem," Mayor Lewis cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the crowd. "The festival is about to begin in five minutes. Will you be able to dance, young man?"

"I don't think so." Alex immediately answered, causing Haley to snap her head towards him in disbelief.

"What do you mean you can't?" she exclaimed, her eyes widening. "How am I supposed to dance without a partner?"

She knew it was a selfish question but how can he be so stupid bringing his ball with him?!

A mischievous grin spread across Alex's lips as he pulled you closer, resting his hand on your shoulders. "Old Mac here can replace me. I already taught her the moves."

"What?" you choked, eyebrows raising so far it hid behind your bangs. "I don't..."

"You got this. There's no need to worry. In fact," he shrugged off his coat and handed it over to your shaking hands. "It doesn't fit me anymore. It'll probably suit you better."

"B-but..."

"Wouldn't it be better if Sam takes your place since he's already familiar with the dance?" Penny tentatively suggested as she eyed Haley. "I know how much winning the crown means to you, Haley. It might be best for Sam to step in for Alex, considering it was his fault too." She glanced apologetically at Sam. "Sorry, Sam. I can dance with Y/n/n instead."

"Um, no," Alex dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "Haley feels more comfortable dancing with Old Mac. That's more important."

"W-wait a second," Haley finally found her voice, her gaze still avoiding the person standing beside her. She could feel your eyes on her, and Haley wasn't ready just yet to see the look of refusal from your eyes. "Can't we get a say in this?!"

"Nope!" Alex chirped.

"Very well, then," Mayor Lewis interjected, clapping his hands together. "Let the festival begin!"

****

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Haley whispered, her hands trembling slightly as they held onto your neck. Her palms had grown clammy, and her racing heart seemed to drown out the lively rhythm of the music.

"Huh?"

Your voice held a hint of confusion, drawing Haley's gaze away from the ground to meet a pair of captivating gray eyes. The faintest tinge of pink colored your cheeks and your eyes struggled to hold steady.

You looked... bashful.

It also did not miss her how the hands securely wrapped around her waist were shaking as well.

"You were avoiding me." Haley finally said, and she commended her voice for not squeaking. "You don't want to dance with me."

"I..." You seemed taken aback by Haley's observation. "I wasn't..."

"Could've fooled me," Haley muttered under her breath as you gracefully twirled her around and pulled her back into your arms.

Despite the thick tension between you two, it looked like you really did actually perfected your moves and were able to dance in sync with Haley's.

"You wanted to dance with Penny, don't you?" She almost sounded accusatory.

"I don't." Your answer was swift. "I don't want to dance with anyone but you. And I wasn't avoiding you."

Haley avoided your gaze. "Where were you then? I haven't seen you in days. You haven't visited us for breakfast." Her grip on your coat tightened as she looked up from the taller woman. "If it was because of what happened that day, nothing happened, okay?"

As you twirled her once more, your bodies drew closer, so close that she could also see bits of hazel from your gray eyes.

Your cheeks burned once more as you muttered, "It's not that."

"Tell me," Haley demanded.

"I was out mining." You admitted sheepishly. "And maybe I was kind of avoiding you..." Your eyes started cringing at the glare Haley was giving you. "I was embarrassed that I puked on you. Alex told me it was your self-care day and... I know I ruined it for you. And now I ruined your dance."

Haley's gaze softened drastically. "Idiot," she mutters, her arms finally relaxing against your shoulder. "You haven't ruined anything." She told you simply.

"Yet," you added, chuckling.

As the tension dissipates, you grow a little bolder as your hands relaxed around her waist, pulling Haley a little tighter against you. The warmth radiating from your palms gave Haley a profound sense of security, one she haven't felt for a long, long time.

"You know," Haley whispered against your neck, relaxing against your embrace. She didn't care if this wasn't part of the choreography. "You smell good today."

She felt you smiled against her hair, "Had to smell my best for my queen, right?"

****

Notes:

Spring's finally over! Summer here we come! Question though. Is my pacing fast or slow?

#stardew fanfic #stardew valley #stardew farmer #stardew haley #haley x farmer #haley x reader #stardew alex #stardew sam #stardew penny #stardew valley fanfic

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biteofcherry · 1 month ago

Note

Professor Rogers would like a word. 😏

A deep study masterlist

professor!Steve Rogers x female reader

You eyed him with amusement; giggle almost bubbling out on your lips as you watched Steve fidget in his seat.

He was looking for the most comfortable position for the next hour of the discussion panel you were guests at, but you couldn't help teasing what only appeared to be nervousness.

There was never any nervousness in Steve. He held control and composure in any circumstances.

You leaned closer, making sure his ear was the only one that your words would reach.

"Nervous, professor Rogers? Or is your cock too big and needs extra arrangements?"

Steve's eyes shot up to you in an instant.

You knew that gaze, knew it meant you just landed yourself in trouble. Just like you knew his cock truly was on the impressive side.

Though there was no hiding of the dark glint in his eyes, Steve's face remained relaxed. His lips curved in a smile; a charming, polite one that would suggest to the audience gathering in the auditorium that you were merely colleagues sharing some light conversation before the panel started.

Guests sitting on your right were oblivious, as well. Some chatting with each other, two were still missing. There was no rush, over fifteen minutes left until the discussion part of the conference was supposed to start.

But for you Steve's smile was farthest from comforting.

He reached for a bottle of water placed on the table, then leaned your way while opening it.

"Speaking of arrangements," he started almost casually, but the dip in his voice was the one he used when commanding you to get on your knees.

"You have that little pink box in your handbag, right?" He knew you had it, as you always brought whatever he asked you to.

For the afterparty kind of play.

"Yes." You nodded, licking your lips.

You were waiting for that dark, sinful poetry of what he was going to do to you later in retaliation.

"Use the restroom before the panel starts, there's still time." Steve ordered, his gaze ensnaring yours. "Take off your panties. And put on the contents of the pink box."

"Now? Here?" Your breath hitched.

Your gaze shifted away from Steve and toward the almost full auditorium.

In other circumstances, Steve would grip your chin, forcing your eyes back to him. But he never crossed that line in public, respectful of both of your reputations and privacy.

He didn't need to use touch, however. His voice was a leash enough to tug your attention back to him in a snap.

"Now." He hissed. "Since you can't help yourself being a needy slut thinking of my cock even in a professional setting."

"Be thankful I picked only the pink box. But hesitate a minute longer and I will add the blue one to it."

Heat flooded your body instantly, your thighs clenched. Contents of the pink box were risky enough of exposing you to the audience, but if he made you use the blue one, too, you'd be completely ruined.

You jumped to your feet and scurried away, your handbag clutched to your side.

The blue box contained a vibrating egg. Though you were spared wearing it in public now, it would be used to torment you later. And you had a feeling Steve wouldn't wait for the return to your suite, but rather the dinner party for professors attending the conference.

The pink box was somewhat safer.

But not really.

A set of shiny nipple clamps fell into your hand when you opened it.

Your blouse had a gentle waterfall neckline, with soft rolls of fabric covering your cleavage. The clamps shouldn't be visible through them.

However, if your arousal spiked, your nipples would pebble further and strain against the fabric. Risking outlining the clamps as well.

It wouldn't be so obvious. Not even from the first rows that stood quite a distance from the stage where the panelists were seated. But some may notice, some may wonder and battle their own suspicions.

Most of all, you would be the one who knows. You would be humiliated and turned on at the same time.

You and Steve would be the only ones aware that you wore them because he ordered it. Because you were his good girl, his naughty cumslut.

#navybrat817 #professor!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers imagine #a deep study

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starboye · 2 months ago

Text

starring: lando norris x male reader

request: Top!reader where lando norris has been a brat all day cause he's horny and wants reader to fuck him so hard he gets pregnant but readers busy looking over car blue prints (cause readers is chief technical engineer for mclaren) and basically sticks lando on his dick and tells him to fuck himself, he does so but readers to invested in his work to actually cum and by the time his finished with his work lando has cum several times already, reader then just goes on to fuck lando so hard he's pregnant a few weeks later.

warnings: smut, cockwarming, top!male reader, bottom!lando norris, cursing, brat!lando, pregnant!lando, breeding kink, pet names, use of daddy

lando was aching for you, wanting to be filled with you cum asap, so much so that he decided to wake up and be a brat the whole day, begging you to fuck him and pawing at your clothes when out in public just to turn around and ignore you when you ask him what he wants for lunch. but what could you do, just take him to the nearest room and fuck him till he was a whiny mess? no you had a job to do right now so you had to focus then you'd handle the brat that was lando.

but none the less he still persisted well into the afternoon when you were looking over some blueprints for the new mclaren car that was supposed to be made but the only thing on landos mind was the thought of you fucking him till he was completely filled with your kids and he was pregnant like the bitch he wanted to be, and who's to say he couldn't try to get you to help him with that "y/n... y/nnnnn" he pesters pulling at your shirt as you were locked in to the computer.

"yes darling" you say, your soft words trying to calm him down "please could we do something else i need you" lando whines stopping his feet "as much as i would love to do that lando, i can't there's a deadline coming up and i can't be behind on this" you say still not looking up to face him "b-but i promise i'll be really quick" lando tries to convince you and that was a lie, any time this man got you distracted enough from work to fuck him somehow day would turn to night in the blink of an eye and you wouldn't know how.

but you couldn't let his desperateness stop his work "y'know what how about this" you say bringing him in between your legs and slipping down your pants to bring out your dick, it was hard from all landos' vulgar words he's tried to get you with throughout the day and you slowly lower him onto your cock, sitting him nice and pretty on your lap "now everyone wins, you get me and i get to work" you smile kissing his cheek before going back to working and aha you were falling right into landos trap, first get him on your cock then he could do whatever.

he slowly ruts his ass against your lap, trying to get you distracted enough but your eyes never waver so he begins plopping up and down on your dick, drawing satisfied moans from him but little grunts from you so if lando couldn't distract you into fucking him he was at least gonna get something out of this so he begins just fucking himself on your cock,going up and down over and over till he came once but that wasn't gonna stop him from milking you till he was filled to the brim with your warm cum, now starting his movements again this time a little weaker than before, pulling your shirt up to run his through your torso, wanting more and more of you than he was getting, that little slut.

"please y/n... just a little touch" he begs tugging at your shirt to grab your attention "c'mon lando let me get my work done and i'll give you whatever you want" you reassure leaning down to give him a little kiss, he chased after your lips wanting to taste more of you but failed so instead he lazily took of your shirt with the help of you lifting your arms, bringing the piece of fabric to his nose to sniff the manly scent from you as he layed flush against your chest, you didn't bat an eye to what he was doing since you were so engulfed in your work and only wanting to kill two birds with one stone.

next thing lando knew he was cumming all over himself again with a whiny moan, his hand moving to grip your thigh for support, he looked up to you from his dazed vision "mmmm y/nnn" he whimpered "almost done baby, almost done" you kiss his head sweetly, lando wasn't gonna give up though he was gonna ride you till he drained you, but load after load lando spewed out weakly you didn't move a single muscle to his words or sexual actions and only giving him an occasional kiss and by the time lando came for the fifth time he was a mess, covered in his own arousal and weakly kissing your neck while whining your name.

by the time you finished working lando was still trying to fuck a load out of you, weakly rutting his ass against you "oh my baby" you playfully pout turning his face to kiss him, it was the face of defeat plastered across his "please y/n" he moans feeling you bring his legs up and pressing them against his chest, glancing at the mess he's made below the desk "such a naughty boy for daddy" you say kissing his forehead before fucking up into him roughly "ah ngh fuckkk" lando brokenly moaned out gripping the arms of the chair while your nails dug into his skin leaving marks to be seen in the later days.

"you want daddy to give you a baby, hm, make you nice and plump with our kid while i care for you" you hum kissing down his neck as he moans out a sloppy "yes daddy" so you give him what he wants, filling him up with all your cum and painting his walls white "good boy, can't wait for you to be all big" you coo rubbing his stomach while regaining your breath "th-thank you" lando shudder before falling asleep in your arms, you carry his cute sleeping figure back to your car and drive home, waking up the next morning to lando excitedly holding a positive pregnancy test with a huge smile on his face.

now what would be the harm in giving him triplets

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft

#lando norris #lando norris x male reader #x male reader #gay smut #x male smut #x male y/n #x male #gay #male reader #top male reader #bottom male character #x male reader smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n

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watchmegetobsessed · 1 year ago

Text

FRUITY

A/N: here i am, writing yet another concept that origins from @harrysblackcoat i just couldn't stop thinking about it and had to write it

WORD COUNT: 677

SUMMARY: Italy, Harry, pregnancy cravings and an ice-cream crisis solved by your wonderful husband.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“Grazie mille.”

Harry nods at the man behind the counter after dropping three times more money into the man’s hand than what the two ice-creams actually cost.

“Grazie!” the man breathes out with a happy smile, waving after the two of you as you walk out of the tiny ice-cream shop.

It’s a hot day in Italy, your baby blue sundress delicately hugs on your frame, the fabric softly flows over your growing bump. A fan you bought at a souvenir shop the other day hangs from your wrist. You asked for pistachio and vanilla, the melting ice-cream is slowly dripping down the cone in your hand as you keep on walking down the cobbled street. You lick into the vanilla and it instantly pulls a frown from you.

Why did you even ask for pistachio and vanilla? You’d much rather eat something fruity and refreshing.

Glancing over at Harry you catch him licking into his own ice-cream, he asked for strawberry and lemon, your mouth waters at the sight of the colorful scoops. The hormones are playing you so badly, have been for the past months, especially since you’ve reached the second trimester. Your emotions tend to be all over the place and practically anything could get you to cry.

Your lips start to wobble as you look back at your ice-cream.

“How is it, babe?” Harry asks, oblivious to what just went down in you. Stopping in your tracks, you try to regulate your breathing and stop yourself from crying. Harry notices that you’ve stilled and when he looks at you he instantly realizes that something is wrong. “Hey, what’s wrong? Does something hurt?”

Stepping closer he tries to find what could be wrong, his eyes frantically running up and down your body as his free hand cups your bump.

“No, nothing hurts,” you breathe out, your voice shaking from the tears that are already dwelling in your eyes.

“Then why are you crying, baby?”

“I just… I’m so stupid,” you look at him pouting.

“Why would you say that?”

“I don’t want it,” you finally admit, looking at the melting ice-cream in your hand. “I wish I got something fruity, like you did.”

Harry blinks at you for a short second and then gently takes the cone from your hand, replacing it with his and your heart skips a beat.

“But it’s yours!” you protest, but Harry just shrugs, his free hand taking yours as he pulls you over to a bench. You’ve been walking around for quite some time, he knows your feet must feel sore by now. He’s right.

“It’s yours now.”

“Are you sure?” you ask with puppy eyes.

“Yeah,” he nods and leaning closer he kisses your lips shortly before licking into his new ice-cream.

You watch for a second, so thankful for having him, he is always so thoughtful, he just wants you to be happy and he cares about you, putting you above everything all the time. He is such a good man and you know he’ll be the best father.

You sit on the bench, enjoying the break from the walking as you finish the ice-creams and when yours (Harry’s) is gone, you let out a sigh. One single sigh.

Harry stands up and heads back in the direction you came from.

“Where are you going?” you call after him. Stopping, he looks back at you.

“You want more, right?”

“I, uh…” you trail off, ashamed to admit that you do in fact want more.

“Y/N, I know you,” he smiles at you. “Same flavors?”

“Yes please,” you smile at him shyly.

You watch him walk back up the hill and disappear in the tiny ice-cream shop and a few minutes later he emerges with another cone of icy happiness. Arriving back to you he hands you the ice-cream and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you, you’re the best, H!” you let out a pleased sigh.

“Anything for my girls,” he smirks and watches you eat your second ice-cream with a bright, proud smile.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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eliciana · 8 months ago

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Reverse SAGAU: The Weird Door At My Café

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2(here) | Chapter 3 | ...

Masterlist

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Tw: Reverse!Isekai!Sagau, Normal Au, Café Au, a bit of cussing like this bit 🤏.

Reader: Gn!Reader, Adult!Reader, Café Owner!Reader

Characters: Reader, Paimon, Traveler

Note: Restaurant to Another World animanga inspired au. You can slide into my dms if you ever want to be tagged in my works just tell me what series you want to be tagged in or all of them. thank you <3. Also, I may say that the characters other than the reader may be a bit OOC cause it's been a long time since I played genshin and I'm just finishing all of my works with my knowledge left from playing the game. So sorry about it 🙏🙏.

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You stood, motionless, your eyes fixed in disbelief upon the distant scene before you. As the wind cut through the air, a shiver ran down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The purity of the air surrounded you, carrying with it an intoxicating scent that smelled pure. The warm touch of the sun's rays caressing your skin affirmed that this experience couldn't possibly be a figment of your imagination. A fleeting thought of doubt crept in, but you quickly dismissed it; after all, you had never dabbled in any kind of drugs. This moment, as unbelievable as it seems, had to be undeniably real.

With careful fingers, you gently retrieved your fallen shoe/heel/slipper from the bed of plush, emerald-green grass. As you slipped it back onto your foot, your eyes instinctively wandered upward, transfixed by the expansive stretch of blue sky above you. It was quite unlike the very bright pixelated one you see on your screen. Everything that you see within the door was real and not a nightmare.

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After composing yourself, you went inside your cafe, close the door, drag a chair nearest to the door, took a seat on the chair you placed infront of the door, and contemplated life. A deep heavy sigh got out your mouth as you continue looking the the strange thing infront of you. "What now? What do I do? Should I just lock it?" you asked yourself and looked at the door. Welp, well, there goes your master plan. Suprise suprise there's no keyhole and having a key would not make any difference. "Ugh."

You sat up and opened the door again, only to be baffled to see a different scenery other than the distant City of Mondstadt. The door was now currently in the Liyue Harbor. You closed the door and opened it again, you were now in Inazuma. Close, open, and now in Sumeru. Once again, you are now in Fontaine.

"Yeah bye." you closed the door again and returned the chair from where it once was. Contemplating what you should do next, your feet carried you around the whole café. You went to the counter and decided to make yourself something to help with calming yourself first in order to think clearly. It was a good thing that you had brought all of the materials and ingredients you needed in the café because you had thought of opening the café tomorrow. But with how things are now, you don't know what to do.

Teyvat is filled with many dangerous beings such as hilichurls, slimes, etc. You are but a normal human being with no experience in fighting and fighting your baby cousins was not enough of an experience to be able to fight toe to toe with monsters you have only seen through a screen. Yes, a gun would probably best to use but you don't have a permit for that and you don't want to be in jail when you have just barely open your dream café. But nobody had to know, right? What if-

A deep sigh fell from your lips once again. The stress is really getting in to you, huh? The bitter/sweet aroma of (coffee/tea/juice) filled your sense of smell. You were making your favorite, (your choice of coffee/tea/juice). After some time of finishing your drink, you took it along with a (pastry of your choice) that you had in your car, in which you had thought of eating to celebrate the opening, and sat in a chair facing the door. Taking your time in eating/drinking, many thoughts come and go in your head to solve the predicament you are in now. You had even thought of postponing the opening of the café until you had thought of a way on what to do with the door.

Of course you read the fanfics circulating all around the genshin fandom and one of the those that you have read was SAGAU where you might be the imposter or the creator of teyvat or you become a villain or anything in between. The most common of them was being an imposter. What if you were to become the said imposter if one day a person will open the door to your café? What if they kill you? What if-

*creak......*

Your rambling came to a stop as you looked at the door horrified. Oh no no no no no no NO NO NO! YOU JINXED YOURSELF DIDN'T YOU?! THIS DAMNED FATE-

'Oh dear God, Buddha, Allah, Deities, whoever higher being there is, pls help me...' you thought as you clasp your hands, praying to higher beings. Before you could even feel it, tears cascaded down you face to the table. "I'm nOt ReAdy tO dIE yeT... Ughhhhhhhh" you sobbed into your hands loudly like a child lost in a mall.

"Hello?" a person peaked from behind the door.

Fuck.

____________________________________

The Traveler, along with Paimon, was doing their daily quests until they saw something shining in the far distance. Their curiousity made them want to investigate it.

"Hm. Why is a door in the middle of the forest with no support or whatsoever?" Paimon mumbled as the door came into their view. The Traveler also had the same thought.

"Is it perhaps a magic door of some kind? I think w-"

*creak*

The Traveler stopped speaking as the door opened but from where they are right now, they couldn't see who opened the door and couldn't get to ask since the door closed with a loud bang when they were going to get closer.

"Well... that was something..." Paimon looked at the Traveler. "Traveler? What's wrong? BREATHE! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE AT THIS RATE!" Paimon brought tons of fried egg out of the Traveler's bag and smacked it into the Traveler's mouth and forced them to chew the egg.

After confirming the Traveler is back into top condition, Paimon asked them what the hell happened to them.

"I-I don't know. I suddenly felt something when whoever opened that door and the air around me became heavy that it became hard to breathe..." The Traveler shooked their head gently and sighed. "I also felt something strange. The energy of whoever is beyond that door, excluded an aura that is very familiar to me, but I don't know who or what it is."

"Hm. Paimon thinks that we should open that door and see whoever that and see if they truly are familiar to you or maybe perhaps this connection that you feel is related to your sibling!" Paimon twirled around the air, exaggerating her words with her actions.

For once, Traveler thought it was a good idea at first but there is also a flaw in that idea. A flaw that might cause their life if whoever is beyond that door is hostile and will kill them. It is better to be cautious then to be 6ft underground before finding their sibling.

_________________________________________

Taglist:

@udretlnea

#genshin impact #genshin impact traveler #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau genshin #self aware genshin #genshin reverse sagau #genshin reverse isekai #cafe owner! reader au #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #sagau x reader #genshin x reader #•works[🍡]•#genshin series

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 4)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 3, Part 5

summary: You get your laptop fixed... eventually.

warnings: smut!! (finally lmfao) masturbation, mutual masturbation, tiny bit of voyeurism, recreational drug use, dry humping, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: caught up to where the og oneshot ends so i wanted to switch it up!!

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 6.8k (still in shock i wrote all this lmfao, i'm strictly a <4k words kinda gal)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lips black and blue and gold.

You're frustrated. Bouncing off the walls, head spinning; and it's for a couple of reasons.

First off: you haven't managed to find a laptop. Money you've worked damn hard for, and you can't really afford a new one. With moving around, you've burnt through quite a bit of your emergency fund. Enough to convince yourself you'll be just fine with a pen and paper in class, and the Google docs on your phone when desperate. It might actually force you to go to the library instead of half assing assignments the night before, you think.

And there's your lab book, which you were smart enough to back up on your computer, but guess what? That's fucked; probably taken apart and sold for scraps by Miguel's mysterious friend , who you've conveniently never even heard of and–

"Just ask for an extension." He says, feet up on the sofa. Oddly enough, you've been doing that more often; spending time together. He's not holed up in his room as much, and spends time studying on the dining table, or pretending not to watch the soaps you've got on TV.

"You're overthinking it. Explain the situation, chula, and it'll be fine." He doesn't even look up, just throws the statement in your direction like the lazy pass of a ball.

You scoff, because he's right, and go back to overthinking. You think you can copy out the ruined half of your labbook by hand, and if you beg your OChem teacher for an extra credit project then–

"If I let you use my laptop, will you stop doing that?"

"Doing what?" You frown as he walks over, and reaches to gently pull your hands apart. He turns your palms over, pointing at the raw edges of your fingernails.

" That. " Mindlessly, you'd been picking at your fingernails, without even noticing. Looking up at him, he rolls his eyes.

"...is that a yes?" You nod, hesitant, and catch the hint of a smile as he pads off to his room.

When he returns, open laptop in hand, he thrusts it into your arms - and sits himself back onto the sofa. This time, he splays out facing you, avocado socks resting on your knee. You fight the urge to push him off, a small price to pay in return for his moment of kindness. He's been doing that more often now, slightly more touchy and maybe even… comfortable around you. Eyes flickering up towards him, you catch his. His brows knead together, and you return your attention to the screen just as quickly.

You're going through the motions, more or less, logging into your college's portal and drafting up quick emails to send to your lecturers. But it's when you open up a new tab, that you see something at the top of the screen and pause. Mouse hovering over an incognito tab, hidden in a nest of referencing websites and scientific journals; it's there. Bold letters, in all caps: WOMAN POUNDED BY BIG BEEFY–

You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. Once again, you look up at Miguel, and he couldn't care less; tapping away at his phone, only stopping to look at the TV. Nevertheless, you shift to hide the laptop screen from him. But you're not going to look, or anything. You know better than to take a look at your roommates porn habits, the stuff he drools over whilst he fucks his fist; a big, dextrous palm wrapped around his shaft.

You've done it. Clicked on the tab and nothing's exploded, as of yet. You turn down the brightness, with some shame, as if to make the paused video less explicit. But the image stays, a woman folded under the weight of the man above – in the middle of bullying his fat cock into her pussy. It's amateur; hot and sweaty and sticky, with only the woman fully visible. You suppose your curiosity's been sated, but you can't help but think…

…the woman. She looks like you.

Tilting your head, you can't help but see the resemblance. Not the exact same of course - but her hair is similar, body type, skin tone, eyes. It's not close enough to be weird, you guess, but it's enough that that thought stays - burrows into you like an earthworm into an apple. Scrolling down, you see other videos, with the same woman, other women that look like you - the telltale red bar of watched videos. Evidence, but not really, and it makes you heat up. Your mouth goes dry, and you look over to him: only able to concentrate on the hand he's got spread out at his belly, the brown flesh peeking out - and how it looks just like the one on the base of the woman's stomach in the video.

"...everything ok?" He's looking at you, suddenly; and you attempt to click over to your original tab, discreetly.

He doesn't seem to notice, padding over to your side and leaning into your shoulder.

"Yeah, no, I just…" All you can manage is a nervous smile. "The screen froze, so…"

"Oh." He gives the track pad a swipe. "Seems fine to m–"

He freezes up slightly, and you watch as his eyes flick up the screen. The laptop is eased out of your hands, and he gives a few quick clicks. By the time it's back in your lap, the offending tab is gone. Imperceptible, his jaw shifts.

"...Should be okay now."

You hum, a little amused at the display. He's seemingly unfazed, his little slip up notwithstanding, and leans back to lie up against you. Obnoxious, he splays onto the sofa cushions, his weight practically smothering you as you fight to push him off. You think he likes it – it's the only possible explanation – and gets off from watching you squirm. He seems desperate for a reaction, a child pushing boundaries and pressing buttons to see what exactly makes you tick.

And that's the second thing: it works . He's more touchy, and just as insufferable – jumping at any excuse to be near you, it seems. Miguel has a tendency to hover, follow you around the apartment as you talk aimlessly, and you do the same. You sit by against the doorway to the kitchen whilst he makes dinner; he floats around the door to your room when you try to study. In fact, you've spoken to your roommate more in the past week than you have in the past month; about anything and everything. Sometimes, he actually tells you where he goes during the day; off to lectures of his own, another tutoring session or his basically-an-unpaid-job of an internship. In your words, it seems like with the shit they make him do at Alchemex, he may as well be a full employee: with way fewer perks and a distinct paycut. It's almost as if they're paying for my degree, he says with an eye roll, practically hanging off your door frame.

He does that a lot, now: arms drawn upwards to lean from the oak trim. Especially during lazy mornings in - he'll hang on the frame, and move to tug at your heel, waking you up despite fervent protest. Ultimately, it's a kindness and you don't know how to tell him how much you appreciate it; as he wakes you up on time to get to the library in good stead. You're still waiting on that laptop, debating whether or not to bite the bullet; but for now Miguel obliges, letting you borrow his now and then.

He's not nice, you think his tongue is much too sharp for that; but he is kind, giving you some grace you're not too sure you deserve. It's more than what you've been given in a relationship of 4 years, and you don't know how to feel about it.

Well, you do. Your talk on the living room floor not so long ago flipped a switch and all of a sudden you're paying attention to your roommate; really, really looking at him. He is very, very pretty; with a tendency for lingering touches disguised as something else. And you're out of practice: horny, frustrated, stressed. With the way he touches you; a hand on your back to greet you, a squeeze of your shoulder to tease, bare legs across yours on the sofa; it's a lethal combo.

And here you are, headphones on, prepping to take a dildo. Incredibly self-indulgent, but you need it . You don't quite have the emotional stability for a one night stand (you think if someone touches you just right, you'll fall in love), but this dry spell has taken its toll.

It wasn't just after the break up, either. Mismatched libidos had felt like a steady death knoll. Realistically, you knew Jaime was always too tired after a placement, but it didn't make you feel wanted. You just want to be desirable and fucked within an inch of your life – was that too much to ask?

As a result, your toy drawer had grown: vibrators and dildos, clit-suckers and g-spot strokers; crude once said aloud, but all in search of something. With the stress of school and Miguel, Schrodinger's slut ; it's a wonder you haven't cracked it open earlier.

You're on the floor, its purple base suctioned to the hardwood and towels to cushion your knees. Lower half completely exposed, it's an art , porn on your phone to complete the visage. The screen is smaller than that of the laptop you're used to, only providing some stimulation. And so, as you sink down on its silicone length, you can't help but think back to the sofa - and the videos squirrelled away on an incognito tab. Miguel, hunched over and fisting his cock to someone that looks like you; maybe even thinking of you – although the jury's still out, on that one.

But you keep it close to your chest, rub your clit to the thought of it: you're his type, and maybe he'd fuck into you like the man on your screen. Broad, gorgeous shoulders and you wonder how pretty he'd look with scratches littered down his back, or hickeys sucked into skin: lips plump and messy and swollen.

"Oh, fuck," You say it under your breath, knowing that whilst Miguel is out of the house, it still feels odd to put your lips around the pleasure that thinking of him gives.

You speed up, the slap of thighs ringing out into your bedroom. The dildo is around 6 inches, sizeable; but you can't help but wonder how it compares to Miguel's. He might even be bigger; thicker, most definitely; and you bet his cock is just as pretty as he is. Oh fuck, and he'd tease; press into your hole just to snatch it away at the last second, rubbing persistent circles at your clit. You hear his voice in your head, the low grunts and groans you've memorised from all those nights he's spent with other girls.

"Miguel," You're moaning shamelessly now. "...f-fuck, please–"

There must be something electric in the way he fucks: with the litany of girls in and out of his bedroom, what keeps them coming back? He must talk them through it, whispering filth with his plush lips against their ear, and you wonder what he'd say to you. God , you'd give anything to hear it him say, just once, how beautiful he thinks you are; for him to wrap his hand around your neck and pull you close. You want him to fuck you; hard and deep and desperate.

With that, your pace quickens and you gush around the toy. A spasm of limbs, and you're clamping down on the silicone – an orgasm that leaves you breathless and heaving. You convince yourself it's the taboo of it: fucking yourself to the thought of your roommate, after listening to his grunts and groans for the past couple weeks. He started it … thin walls, and all that.

You ignore the want that lays stubborn at the pit of your stomach, riding through stuttering spasms as your orgasm winds down. You're touch starved, that's all, and Miguel's the closest warm body to latch onto. Nothing more, nothing less. Groaning, you shift, picking up your hips to gear up for another round. Just once more, so you know for sure.

Thin walls. The sound leaks into your roommate's bedroom. But with your headphones on, you can't hear the sounds that echo back: Miguel O'Hara, back home early, with an ear pressed to the wall and desperately pumping his cock.

~~~

"I'm not completely convinced, to be honest." You're in Miguel's car, tongue sticking out as you fiddle around with the dials.

His gaze flicks over, and bats your paws off the dashboard. Flopping into your seat, you watch as he turns up the AC and switches the radio, as if reading your mind.

"You really think I'd go through all this trouble?" He scoffs. "Bundle your ass out of the house and drive all the way here to…. do what exactly?"

"Assert dominance in our shared ecosystem." You say it with finality, and he scrunches up his face in confusion.

"...what does that even mean?"

"Like in that nature doc you were watching the other day."

"Well, the point was that spiders aren't hierarchical in the traditional sense. They form colonies that are… quasi-social, if anything, and–" He pauses. "Wait. You were paying attention?"

You shrug. "I thought it was interesting."

"Seriously?"

"...no, not really."

You laugh as he pulls over to park, in a space next to what looks like an apartment complex. It looks way nicer than your place, with sandy brick and hedges that look well kept. Your laughter peters off. Miguel looks decidedly not amused.

He opens the car door and clambers out as you scramble for the seatbelt. To your surprise, he opens the door for you; stretching out a hand for stability as you get out. When you both walk over to the intercom, your palm burns with his touch, and flexes with the memory of it. It's becoming a problem, his hands. You push down the beginnings of a hazy daydream. He presses a panel, waiting for the buzz.

"Lyla? Could you let us up?"

He waves demurely to the camera, and the receiver clicks. A cheery voice rings back.

"...Us? Who's us, Miggy? Did you finally find a girl that puts up with your shit?" Her voice is singsong, teasing. With a smile, you watch as Miguel bristles, speaking into the slick panel.

"My roommate, Jesus, Ly–" He says the next bit a little rushed, turning away slightly as if you still can't hear her loud and clear. "I thought we went through this, you can't keep trying to embarassmeeverytimeI–"

She talks over him towards the end, rapid-fire banter that you can barely make out.

"You never come and visit, except when it's 2am and you need to break into–"

"Once! It was one time! Déjate, ya está bueno ya–"

[Let it go, that's enough now–]

"Let it go? No, no, absolutely not… what is it that you always say? It's the principle –"

"Can you just fucking open the–"

"What's the magic word?"

He sighs, mouthing an apology to you. "Lyla–"

"Magic. Word."

He mumbles. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please could you open the fucking door."

There's a pause, and rustling over the intercom. The door buzzes open.

In the elevator up, you keep quiet, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. Miguel is visibly brooding; arms crossed and brow furrowed.

"Don't." He says, with a pout you almost think is cute. Almost.

"I'm trying really, really hard not to." You put your hands up, as if to surrender. "... Miggy."

"Fuck off." And then, a little softer.

"...I told you I have friends."

~~~

You leave it at that until you're in Lyla'a apartment, when she opens and ushers you in. She looks exactly the way she sounds: pretty, mousy features, with her hair in short, choppy layers. She's bundled up into a plush white robe; heart-shaped sunglasses sliding down the tip of her nose.

Miguel breezes past her, towards the murmuring voices you can just about make out in the front room.

"Lovely to see you too, Miguel." It's under her breath, but when she turns towards you there's a twinkle in her eye.

You introduce yourself, and she pulls you into a tight hug.

"I know," She says. It's ominous, but her voice is light and airy. When you separate, she flashes a wide smile. "Lyla. It's nice to put a face to a name."

"Uhh, sorry. What?" She ushers you further into her apartment as you speak, confused.

"Oh, Miggy talks about you all the time. Complaining , mostly, but in that way he gets when he's trying really, really hard to pretend he doesn't care. Like, he texted me yesterday and–"

"Thaaat's enough." You feel hands on your shoulders, and all of a sudden, Miguel is steering you away from her grip. You stumble into her living room, so bright and airy your eyes have to adjust to the light that floods in. Looking around, her apartment is gorgeous; a spacious open plan, floor-to-ceiling windows with a prime view, and lush furniture. Everything about it screams expensive – especially in comparison to your paltry place. Maybe the shock is visible on your face, but you're in awe. She can't be much older than Miguel, right? She looks about the same age, mid-twenties, not too far-removed from college… and it isn't quite adding up.

"How can she afford this? That's what you're thinking." There's a voice on the sofa that makes you blink. A young man with messy brown hair, a set jaw and 5 o'clock shadow calls out to you in between mouthfuls of pizza. "Lyla's… mmhgh… suuper fuckin' rich… mmfgh… that's how."

It's then that you notice there are other people here, sprawled out on the sofa set; boxes of takeout on the side tables next to them. Of course Lyla's rich: only 20-somethings with money to spare have matching sofas.

She's like Beetlejuice, or the Candyman, and pops up next to you when her name's said.

"I work in tech! With a cute little job on Wall Street, and a part-time one white hat hacking." She clarifies. " Ethical hacking."

She giggles like she's told a joke somewhere, and you nod – still not quite understanding.

"...and some side gigs that aren't as ethical." A blond haired man next to Mouthful-Of-Pizza pipes up. "When are you going to introduce us, Miguel?"

He's grumbling in the kitchen area, digging through the shelves for something. He returns with a bag of chips and dip in a container, flopping onto the zebra print throw pillows. Distracted, he waves a hand around the group noncommittally.

"Uhh, Peter, Ben, Lyla." He gestures to you, saying your name, and then to himself; tearing open the bag at the same time. "-and Miguel. All done"

"My turn for questions, now," Miguel says, pointing at Lyla, looking at the boys to his side. "Is she…?"

"...super high? Most definitely." Lyla giggles at Ben's words, for good measure.

"...right. Peter Parker, nice to meet you." He throws a thumb to the back of the sofa, where you notice a little mop of red curls peeking out. "And this is my little Mayday."

Peals of laughter erupt from behind him, and you notice grubby hands with a death grip to the cushion rest. Miguel leaps up, rushing to her side to help her up its back.

"Ayyy dios mio." He scoops her up carefully, "Buenas, Arañita."

Mayday is on his lap now, a little toddler of about 1 or 2, snaking herself around to hug Miguel's chest. She is certifiably the cutest thing you've ever seen: gap-toothed and giggly, with a smatter of freckles like someone's flicked a paintbrush across her nose. And with the way Miguel melts, you can die happy, knowing that you've seen the impossible: Miguel O'Hara, cooing and fussing over the little girl.

"Arañita?" You ask, to no one in particular.

"Itsy-bitsy spider." . ..is the sing-song, choral response from everyone but Miguel. They're mimicking his tone of voice, and he raises his head from May, looking around.

"I don't sound- "

"You do, dude." Peter sighs, tickling the little red head on the tummy; smiling as she collapses into bright laughter. "I don't have a nickname, and I've known you waaay longer than she has."

Miguel covers her tiny little ears, and says, "Eres un pendejo, Parker . "

[you're a dipshit, Parker]

The scraggly man sticks his tongue out in response, and May pulls at his hair for good measure. He yelps, and Miguel passes her over to her Dad. The scene is funny, for sure, but you feel it's warmth more than anything. God, you can tell they've loved and laughed with each other for years; the kind of friendship you'd kill to have.

"We just need whatever's left of her laptop, Lyla," He's blunt, batting away long forgotten chips and dip. "...and then we'll get going. Wish I could stay longer, Arañita, but I've got some work to finish off."

May makes grabby hands at him, and you melt. Who knows how Miguel can stay strong in the face of her big, round eyes.

He gets up to stand next to you, arms crossed. The height difference is stark: his tall, solid frame towering over everyone else. It seems like an intimidation tactic, but you know him just well enough to tell: he's trying not to be swayed by puppy eyes and promises of food.

"You just got here, Miggy." Lyla sighs. "We're going over prep for Jess', and we'll be two minutes, I swear."

"Oh?" His eyebrows light up. "I knew it! You were being evasive on the group chat, and Pete wasn't returning my calls…"

Huffing, he clasps his hand around yours, ready to storm out. "This is an ambush. A goddamn setup!"

"Wait, Miguel, I need my-"

"I'll pick it up later for you, okay?" It's said like an aside, so soft only you can hear it. With his hand around yours, it certainly feels more intimate than it should. And it seems like he realises a little too late, dropping your hand as your faces are mere inches away.

"Um, we should… we should go."

You look past him to the faces blinking at you guys, on the sofa. A pause, and then you're gulping down stubborn feelings to ask a question.

"Jess' ? Is there a party, or something?"

Lyla nods. "Yeah, and Miguel's meant to be picking up cake."

The man in question pinches his nose. "I can pick up the cake just fine. It's the whole… going to a party bit I'm not too keen on."

"Come onnn, you know Jess would love it."

"She'd love to blackmail me with some dumb shit I did drunk, that's for sure."

"It's her birthday, hardass ." Peter whispers that last bit, covering little May's ears like before. "She can have a little blackmail, as a treat."

"You're gonna say no to a surprise party ?" Ben echoes, shaking his head dramatically.

"A surprise birthday?" You light up. "Miguel, you have to go."

His stony demeanor cracks, for a moment. You latch onto it, hellbent on wearing him down. He's always got his laptop out doing work, or cracking open a little notebook to prep a lab. When he's not at home, he's at that internship, or tutoring, or planning a tutoring session. Work, work, work; and you'll be dammed if you let him rot away in a little cage of his own machinations.

"Come on, Miggy." You watch him bristle, prying at that little crack in the surface. This has to be done with finesse: present a challenge, and watch him scramble to prove you wrong. "You're telling me a couple of hours at a party's too much for you? That's it? "

"That's not–"

"S'what it sounds like to me." You shrug, a little smile on your face. The aim is to look as smug as possible; and it seems to be working.

His jaw shifts, annoyed. Lyla catches on, giving you a crazed smile.

"Even your roommate's gonna come." She says, an arm linked in yours.

"I am?" She gives you a little dig, and you're spluttering. "Y-Yeah, I am!"

You can see him fight with his own ego; but it's a one-sided affair.

"Fine. " He strains. "Two hours, max. And then I'm gone."

Lyla gives you a squeeze, and then wraps you both up in a hug he desperately tries to fight off. Ben slots around you guys, and Peter's last to join, with Mayday squealing on his shoulders.

Eventually, you get what's left of your laptop: a little thumb drive with as much as Lyla could save. You'd thanked her profusely, of course; trying to slither out of her vice grip of a hug, as best you could. She's absolutely batshit, the good kind; cryptic, and strange, but with a lot of heart. She makes you wonder, and they all do; just how did they become friends with Miguel? How do they fit?

The man himself seems a little different, as if reinvigorated by being around friends. In fact, you catch him smiling to himself on the drive home. It's sweet; to see a different side of him around people he's clearly comfortable with. If only for a little while, he sheds the heavy weight he seems to carry around.

Around the house, you notice he seems lighter – humming to himself whilst cooking dinner. That very day, you watch the little sway of hips as he stirs a pot; headphones in, singing under his breath. He can't sing for shit, of course, and he'd kill you if you ever uttered a word; but it's a sight you commit to memory, not knowing when next he'll be in such a good mood.

There's still the question of a new laptop in the air, but you feel more settled by the events of the day. You're a little less fucked school-wise, you've got a party to look forward to, and potentially a drunk Miguel to make fun of. He goes to bed early; and you can hear the quiet drone of a podcast from the other side of the wall. He drifts off to the sweet, dulcet tones of Top Ten Genetic Precursors for Early Onset Dementia; one of his favourites, you've determined.

All is well, for now. A tentative truce, and maybe, just maybe: you're finally friends with your roommate.

~~~

There's something about dramatic irony that seems to smack you across the face, every time.

You've come to somewhat of a understanding with your prickly roommate, and the stream of women in his bed seem to slow down, for a bit. He's hot, he's a whore; but he's sweet, with an eye for detail. He can read you with a scary amount of accuracy. Antsy and hungry from a long day? He leaves you scratching your head at his clairvoyance when you come home, chucking you a hot water bottle and a warm meal. You go to bed with a full belly, cramps abated.

He's still a prick, of course. Sarcastic comments, and a massive grump – but you've learnt to deal with that. Just a couple of days after a seemingly settled week; what you can't wrap your head around is the pounding music from next door, at fuck-off-o'clock . He shouldn't be awake, let alone interrupting your late night study session.

You're pissed, leaping from your desk to pound at his door. You're thudding towards his room, ready to deliver a well-deserved verbal lashing, and the door just… swings open. Empty; there's a window ajar and music pumping from speakers. Bachata and cheesy 90s R&B; which sounds suspiciously like his sex playlist.

Yes, he has a sex playlist. And it really has no business to sound as good as it does.

Nevertheless, you're resolute. If he's managed to sneak someone, at this hour, you decide he's going to get more than a stern talking to.

There's clattering in the kitchen, and you whip around; half-expecting the giggle of another girl. When you walk in, it's just Miguel, rummaging through cupboards: a half-naked thief in the night.

"Miguel?"

He pops his head up from a cabinet, with a half-eaten piece of bread in his mouth. Caught red-handed, you suppose; and he gives you a little smile.

"S'everyfin' – mmmfggh –" He scarfs the rest of it down. "Everything okay?"

You squint. "No. Not really."

He chuckles, a slight rasp at the edges of his voice. Dickhead – what exactly is so funny?

"You can't have your music so fucking loud, not when I'm studying. It's the middle of the night and–"

Dressed in nothing but a pair of gray sweats, he's busying himself with a sandwich on the counter; clattering around noisily like he doesn't have full control of his limbs. Which is…. weird, admittedly. You'd trust Miguel to slice a grape with a machete – his dexterity is usually unmatched. Not that you'd made a habit of staring at his hands, or anything.

"Are you even listening to me?"

He nods, attempting to keep a straight face, but the faux solemnity does nothing to hide that droop of eyelids and slump of his shoulders. You get closer, pushing him to face you properly.

"Oh, fuck," His eyes are a little red, hair messy and windswept. "Are you… high? "

Miguel O'Hara? High? You'd never thought you'd live to see the day, honestly. His eyes go wide, dropping his sandwich dramatically. And then he's got a big hand at your shoulder, pulling you closer with a finger pressed to his lips.

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering your name like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone."

With the way he says your name it makes you light-headed. It's slow and careful, as if he's testing the way it feels spilling from his lips. And maybe, with the way he smiles, it feels good; tastes sweet wrapped around his tongue.

"I won't." You breathe, and then you're both giggling.

There's something about the way he looks at you, peering under heavy lashes; basically eye-fucking you in the space of your tiny kitchen. You feel bare in a little t-shirt and sleep shorts; suddenly exposed.

"You should…" He starts, cocking his head ever so slightly. "Join me, chula. "

It's soft; sinful, even; said as he coaxes you between his body and the kitchen counter.

You don't trust your voice enough to answer, legs already shaky, so you nod. Slight, at first; and then with a little more gusto as the idea of him and you on his sheets – intimate, alone – creeps in. He stretches out a hand, and you take it; led to his bedroom like a scene you've seen before. All those girls before you; led to the dragon's lair like damsels in a fairytale. Except in this one, you suppose, you're not waiting for a knight in shining armour to save you.

He sits you down on the bed, passing you a freshly rolled blunt. Passing it to your lips , more specifically; hand on your chin as he brings the lighter up to its end. Even prettier up close, all you can do is watch the press of plump lips, and pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates. As he leans in, there's a hand on your bare thigh. You inhale, deeply, and he hums with content.

"Good girl," He purrs, prying it from your lips to take a slow drag.

"You're a bad influence." You murmur, watching as his eyes flutter shut.

"You need to relax," He leans back, arm drawn lazily upwards. "This is helping."

"That's not–" Oh. You feel it now, a steady haze rolling over limbs.

Miguel quirks up an eyebrow, amused.

You repeat, slowly, "You're a bad influence ."

"Does it feel good?" You pause, trying to ignore his low tone; and the steady blaze that it ignites within you. Dragging your eyes to meet his, you see it: want, lust, something heavy that swirls behind them.

You nod, itching for another pull. As if psychic, he gestures for you to come closer; and your lips almost slot against his. He exhales, and you inhale; in the closest thing you've come to a kiss in months. It makes you ache for just a little more contact, for those pretty hands to slot between your thighs and–

"Is this all I need to do for some quiet around here?" He asks, lilting. If only he'd stop talking; interrupting your fantasy with that stupid grin of his.

You're shaking your head, laughing at the sheer gall .

"You're fucking someone new every week, O'Hara. Loud. Who was it the other day? Cathy, Kayla –"

"Sita, actually." He has a strange expression on his face. "And we didn't fuck. Just going over lecture notes."

"Sorry . Must have gotten mixed up with the half-dozen other girls in and out of here. Our apartment's not a brothel , Miggy."

He rolls his eyes, handing you the remnants of the blunt.

"...s'not my fault there isn't anyone fucking you right."

You scoff. "How would you know?"

"Thin walls. " It's cryptic. What the fuck does that mean?

You take a careful drag, and hand the blunt back – trying your hardest not to strangle him. It must show on your face as you tussle with the thought, because Miguel is staring; unabashedly, unashamedly. When you notice, it throws you off.

"... what?" Ready to defend yourself, you huff.

He shrugs. His expression is soft, reminding you of that night, not long ago.

"You look like a painting."

You practically short circuit. You've been complimented before, of course. Hot, by men trying to get into your pants. Pretty, sometimes. Beautiful, the other times. Whether it's been sincere, you don't know – but you're smart enough to not overthink it. It's hard enough to live a life, as it is; and you'd rather not be bogged down by what others think, how you look whilst doing it. And yet, you feel your body betray you; a steady bloom of heat at your heart, like you've been stabbed. So deep, it spreads like blood on the front of a blouse. Like a painting, he says. And you like the way he says it; how it sounds spilling from his lips.

Its implication sits heavy. Like a painting : hand-crafted, silken, soft –

He blinks, the crack of a smile on his face. And it ends in a fit of giggling, if you can even call it that.

"Stop fucking with me." You grumble, and he thinks the way your face scrunches up with disdain is cute. There's probably an implication there he should unpack in therapy – how he likes it when you shout and put him in his place – but he's much too high to care.

"M'not-" He quiets down, flattens his face into something resembling sobriety and gravitas. He gets a little closer, so close you can feel the heat of his body and flutter of lashes. With wide, dilated pupils, he stills - and it really doesn't help that he looks so pretty.

"Can't stop thinking about you, hermosa." His voice is low, slurred with the weight of the blunt he's taken careful drags of. Every word makes you feel hazy, drawn in by his lips. " Fuck, all the time."

"Hear your laugh in my dreams, sometimes." He circles your bare thigh carefully, without breaking eye contact. With a thumb on your chin, he brings you closer, and closer still. Gently, you close your eyes, expecting the press of his lips against yours…

…instead, you get a puff of smoke for your troubles. Reeling, you push him away. He collapses on the bed in a laughing fit.

"... now I'm fucking with you." Rumbling laughter, and you've got the wherewithal to be embarrassed – hand still resting on his bare chest.

A little cruelly, you push down, giving him an elbow to the ribs for good measure and he splutters with surprise – laughing all the same.

"Asshole." You slur, and he grabs your arm to pull you onto the covers with him. You paw at him wildly, wrestling amongst the table of sheets. It's not a fair fight, not really; the wide expanse of his bare chest feels solid, and he's probably got more muscle in his pinky toe than you do in your whole body. Miguel is strong , but plays along regardless, pinning you to the bed with his hands around your wrists - but lets you turn him over just as quick. You're both laughing, the blunt long forgotten but its haze blurring the lines. You straddle his middle, hips flush against his and he keens; head back and cheeks flushed.

"Fuck," It's quiet, said as he writhes below you and you try to pin his hands above his head. Maybe it's the weed, but he lets you: eyes low, breath steady. And you stay like that, for a moment; bodies laid against one another.

You don't know who starts it: the slow roll of hips, the swell of his cock bucking up against your heat. Regardless, you welcome it, letting the heat build up with the pressure at your clit. Your hips sway and all Miguel can do is watch.

Lips parted, head back; and you set a steady rhythm that washes over you both.

Humping against one another, you get more desperate and drag your hands to his chest for purchase. Underneath you, Miguel practically purrs – one hand on your waist and the other clutching yours at his chest.

"So, so pretty…" He sighs into it, wide palm pawing at your ass, shamelessly grabbing handfuls. By now, he's rock hard; and you feel him throb through the thin material of his sweats.

"Fuck, I can't–" You moan, ragged, the roll of your hips gaining speed.

Miguel coos, bringing a hand to your chin to pull you closer to the crook of his neck.

"Too fast, hermosa. S-Slow it down for me." He grips your waist, forcing the pace to slow. Your hips stutter against his, delicious pressure making you cry out. And, God, you're close; pleasure building up at your gut.

"Ohhh, fuck. Just like that, just like–" It's soft, whispered between the press of bodies like a prayer: reverent, intimate, a slew of garbled English and Spanish into the shell of your ear that goes straight to your pussy.

"A-Ahi, ahi–"

[t-there, there–]

Plush lips brush against your cheek, and you try so hard to not float away - with only his words to keep you tethered.

"... no pares lo que sea que estes haciendo–ohh-fuck–"

[don't stop what you're doing, oh fuck–]

The coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you arch into his touch as he does the same. Miguel spills into his sweats, heaving with the effort. He can feel the clench of your pussy above, and he chases it in the aftermath; craning his neck to finally get a kiss. Limbs heavy, you still manage to swerve so his kisses land at your jaw. He's grateful for the contact anyway it comes and sucks careful hickies into the skin: at your neck, your collarbone, and anywhere else he can reach.

You sink into it, curl up on his chest like a housecat; his hands wandering the gentle slope of your back under your shirt.

Limbs heavy, you pry yourself from his hands ever so slightly. He strains to follow you up, snapping back into the sheets like an elastic band. Still, he kneads at your flesh - bare thighs spilling from your shorts.

" Miguel," You whisper, hand travelling past his neck to cradle his jaw. "Need more…"

You punctuate that last word with a roll of your hips. Wanton, conflicted; he groans .

"It's late, chula. " He says it slowly, hesitant – like he can't believe the words are coming out of his mouth. He's still high, lost in the whispy remnants of that blunt. You've never known weed to make someone more responsible, and you flop to his side, a little childishly.

Miguel makes sure to keep a hand wrapped around your waist, dragging his other knuckles up your exposed tummy so that it rides up to the swell of your tits.

"And you've got that 9am."

You cover your face with the span of your hands, grumbling. From between the gaps in your fingers, you repeat,

" ...and I've got that 9am ."

He traces lazy circles in your flesh. Maybe it's the blunt, or the afterglow of an orgasm; but you make him laugh, a gentle ache replacing the creak and shudder of gears.

"Idiot." He says, kissing it into your skin. And he burns from the touch, fleeting; like the warm flame from paper lanterns, or the flicker of a lighter against cool night air.

Miguel taglist (1): @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #kat_writes😼#rigor mortis 😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv x reader #atsv fic

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daenysthedreamersblog · 5 months ago

Text

KNUCKLE VELVET

Nothing in my heart is hoping you'll come back

Too cold to know what I don't have without you

summary: your main goal in life was to take care of your family, and you had been... until a new peacekeeper comes to your district leaving death and pain wherever he stepped

pairings: peacekeeper!coryo x reader

warnings: MDNI! violence, death, blood, coercion/ manipulation, swearing, power imbalance, hitting, choking, dub-con, oral sex, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, guns.

notes: omggg so this actually was supposed to be a completely different story when i started, but it took a side turn and ended here. its not nearly as dark (so sorry) as i originally intended but hoping where i lacked in darkness i made up for in heartbreak so hope u all still enjoy :)

Death had been your shadow since you could remember, or at least it had felt that way since you were a young child. You saw it for the first time when you nearly drowned in the lake with you sister, it stared at you while you choked on your own short life. It had taken your mother, infected your father, it loomed over you incessantly like a cruel god. You tried hard to keep it at bay, to run from it, make it lose your scent, but it was obsessive, possessive of you. It would come for you some day.

And in a crowded, too-loud, scorching room you saw your death in his beautiful face.

With delicately furrowed brows you shoved the heel of your hand into the dough the ache ever present in your left wrist. You ignored it, focusing on kneading the dough.

Your father was a baker, or at least he had been before he had fallen ill. It wasn't anything special, mostly selling what he could out of your childhood home or trading it for supplies. You got by, your family got by, better than most he always reminded you. It was fine, an easy job, a distracting mundane task that sometimes supplied leftovers you couldn't complain about. So here you were, kneading bread when he no longer could.

You placed the towel over the bowl and wiped your hands off on your apron as footsteps creaked from behind.

"Started without me?" Your sister yawned walking into the kitchen eyeing the three bowls of rising dough.

"Couldn't sleep." You untied your apron and placed it on the counter as she tucked her chin into your shoulder.

She sighed, "You worry too much."

You did, someone had to, but you bite your tongue. "You can clean then." You chuckled walking away from her.

"We should do something tonight." She is already moving the dishes around and wiping off the counters as you look over your shoulder at her, your hand on the wall. "Would be nice to get out of here for a few hours."

You smile, "Sure." And then you disappear down the hallway to your father's room. He's in bed, half asleep when you sit down near his feet making sure he was breathing. "Are you hungry?" You roll your wrist in your hand as you ask him.

His head turns to take you in, "No."

"Did you take your medicine?"

"Yes." His eyes dart to the left and you know he's lying. You sigh as you walk forward pulling open the drawer to find it empty.

You can't look away from it. "I'll get more."

"She is right, you worry too much." He taps his foot against your thigh, "How's my bread?" He ask you to distract you from the tiredness in his voice, from the pale color in his skin, from the fact that he was dying. All you wished then was to take his illness onto yourself so he nor your sister had to suffer.

Once all the bread is made and prepared to be sold, your sister and you leave in the night. You slip on a blue dress and small grey cardigan taking off down the gravel road towards town. Fresh summer air clears the flour from your lungs as you walk next to her arms linked at the elbow a lightness in your step as you try to forget the woes at home.

"Does that band still play?" You asked as the building comes into sight various individuals moving in and out if it.

"Yeah." Her voice is solemn. "They're good but..." It wasn't the same since they lost their singer. She had died in the games, or at least that's what everyone said but you didn't remember, you didn't watch the games if you could help it. Then everyone had moved on like they always did.

You and your sister entered the warm room littered with people from your district and off duty peacekeepers. Most of them were friendly, and the ones that weren't rarely came here on their nights off so you let your shoulders relax. You watched the band perform a few songs with mason jars filled with clear alcohol, even indulging your sister in a couple dances when a familiar face caught your eye, one that had helped you far too often than you deserved. "Last drink?" You nodded your head to the bar. "Don't go too far."

She waved you off still swaying to the tune of the guitar as you disappeared through the crowd. You kept your head down clutching the empty jars as you walked. He was talking as he walked in a perpendicular direction perfectly lining up with where you needed to hit him. You threw a glance over your shoulder the same time your body collided with his, glass jars falling to the floor with a violent crack. "I'm so-Oh." His eyes meet yours as you bend at the knees to try and pick up the broken pieces.

"Medicine." You whisper out when it's just the two of you near the floor. "My father. I need...Please."

He rubs a hand over his face, "I'll try, but...I'll try."

You look at his face knowing he sees the desperation there, "Thank you."

"Need any help?"

Your eyes shoot up quickly staring at a beautiful death.

You've never seen him before, you would know with his clear blue eyes and white blonde hair shining out above the crowd like a beacon. He's standing across from the mess staring down at you, "It was an accident-!"

"You're bleeding." He says drawing your attention to the sudden stinging pain across your palm, the red liquid bubbling up from the fresh cut.

You shake your head, "It's fine."

"We should get that cleaned up." You open your mouth to protest, but he only slips his hand under your arm helping you up. "I insist." You glance back at your friend, Gavin, who often did help you with various needs your father had in exchanged for baked goods, and then you looked back at the other peacekeeper dragging you away.

He leads you towards the back as the band continues to play a loud song. "Sit." He points to an empty barrel, "I'll be right back." And then he disappears back out into the crowd. You glance around the empty room filled with supplies and unused musical equipment. Tentatively, you climb onto the barrel to sit admiring the gash along your hand, the bleeding was slowing, but it did look rather nasty. "They didn't have much," Your eyes shoot up, following him until he stands in front of you with a wet rag and a few bandages. "But it's better than nothing."

"You're new." You observe as he takes your bleeding hand.

He presses the rag to the wound the wince slipping out, "Got in yesterday."

He starts to try and clean it. "Do you like it here?" He scoffs to himself causing the corners of your mouth to turn up. "Dumb question." He glances up at you face close enough your can see the shades of blue in his eyes.

"It has it's charms." He dries off your hand before finding the large gauze pad to tape around it.

"Where were you from?" You regret it as you ask, as a sudden darkness comes over him throwing the room into silence the music a distant thrumming from beyond. You watch him tape up your hand with cheap supplies until it covers the cut neatly. "Thank you."

He doesn't drop your hand, "Are you always clumsy?" He traces the small scar on your pinky.

"Occupational hazard." You watch his face as he looks at you once more the question in his pretty eyes. "I bake, had a few run in with knives."

His mouth quirks up, "I hope you don't often run into knives or off duty peacekeepers."

You take your hand back, "I don't make a habit of it."

"You could...Make a habit of it." He stares down at you his thigh suddenly warm against your knee. "At least certain ones."

You take a sharp breath, "We both know that's not a good idea." You slide off the barrel, chest forced against his as you move and then your sliding past him. "Thank you, again. I should go find my sister."

"See you around clumsy girl."

The blush bites at your cheeks and you hope he can't see it in this light, but you suspect he does as something flashes across his face. You don't stick around to find out as you head back into the crowd. You find your sister talking with another peacekeeper, "I'm gunna head home." You show her your hand.

"Be safe." She smiles going back to her brown haired friend. You glance over you shoulder finding that man who helped you watching you, you should tear your eyes away from him, but he should as well, but here he was, staring brazenly at you something burns under your skin.

You blink shaking your head and turn to leave, tugging the cardigan tighter around your shoulders as you walk home alone. You often did, you never encountered any trouble, but something felt off. The hair on your neck stood up the whole way home like something-someone was watching you.

You turned to look, but nothing was there.

The sun drenches the kitchen in an orange glow as you carefully measure out flour failing to keep it balanced with only one good hand. You scowl down at your bandaged palm as you dump the contents into the bowl. You should just wait for your sister and make her do it, but you opted to let her sleep in to throw yourself into a distraction.

What if he wasn't able to get anymore medicine?

Were you supposed to watch as your father withered away and let death come into your home once more?

You're so lost in thought you don't even hear the front door open until it shuts.

He's standing there in front of the closed door taking up every space he wanted to, and doing it beautifully. You struggle to form the question, to string together a sentence to convey your confusion. He answers anyways, "I wanted to check on you." He motioned with a finger to your hand.

You glance behind him, "How did you kn-!"

He steps further inside before you can finish, taking in the sight of your kitchen/makeshift bakery. "Do you need any help while I'm here?" You know your expression must exhibit the shock still running through your veins as he stands in your home because he smiles softly and rolls up his sleeves, "I'm sure it would be easier than kneading with only one hand."

You submit and take a step back, "Sure uh..." You motion to the bowl, "It needs two more cups of flour." You watch him walk forward, too clean for the room despite the grim coating the tips of his fingers. "You can wash your hands in there." You point to the sink.

"How is your hand?" He asked as he runs his long fingers through cool water.

You glance down at the now tarnished bandage across your palm. "Only stings sometimes." You look back up at him, "My left one gives me more trouble."

He turns off the sink and uses a rag to dry his hands off. "Why's that?"

You watch him with careful eyes move around your kitchen to collect the supplies he made you abandon. "Just years of abusing it." He eyes your left wrist and then scoops out flour. You have to show him how to measure it out properly but he gets it for the most part. You feel yourself relax watching him add it all to the bowl and mixing it.

"Now what?" He asked over his shoulder.

"We let it rise." You walk over to throw a clean rag over the bowl.

"How long?"

You can't help the smile. "A minimum of five hours."

He put his fist against his hips, "Well what do you do while you wait?"

"Make more dough."

So you do. You stand next to him this time walking him through each ingredient helping by throwing in the teaspoon of salt for him. You find yourself laughing as the time slips away, as you sprinkle out the flour for him to knead the dough into. You enjoy the way his body feels near yours, how his arm accidentally brushes against you. He isn't the best, but you had a feeling he never did something like this before, and he was helping.

He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, "How are you not more buff?"

You flex your right arm, "I think I'm quite scary."

He smirks down at you bringing his hand up to wrap around your bicep, "Terrifying." His hand burns your skin as you stare up at him, as blue eyes drink up your face like cool water on this horrid summer day. He's too close, he's too warm and you watch the droplet of sweat slide down his temple.

Your mouth waters. You blink and step back, "I usually don't make this much in one day."

"So you're using me?" He jokes as you slide the tin to cook the bread in.

"Something like that." Your cheeks are flushed and you gently take the loaf from him to place in the tin. "My sister can do the rest. You probably should head back before you get in trouble."

He nodded, "I brought you something." You open your mouth to protest not wanting to push your luck with all his generosity, but he digs into his pocket anyway pulling out fresh medical grade bandages no doubt from his peacekeeper base.

"Oh I can't." You whisper.

"I insist." He takes your hand anyways your body moving forward slightly. "I feel awful about being the reason you got cut up."

You glance up at him as he takes the old wrap off. "You didn't..."

He only smiles to himself as he cleans off the cut because maybe he was. You remembered hitting Gavin on purpose, remembered picking up shattered glass over hushed conversation, and then he was standing over you fresh blood leaking from your hand. It didn't matter, not truly, at least not to you. It would heal and fade and barely be a memory.

His thumb slides over the freshly clean bandage across your hand, "If you need anything..." Your eyes meet as he holds onto your hand, you want to tell him theres no need. Well there was but he couldn't know that, it would get everyone involved killed.

"You've been kind enough."

"Hmm." His other hand comes up, fingers brushing away flour coated hair from your face. "I don't mind."

You nearly sigh as his fingers trail down your face, "Thank you." You whisper out his fingers holding your chin between them.

"Clumsy girl." Something darkens in his eyes as his body lets off too much heat leaning down towards you.

Your breath catches feeling the warmth of his own against your face. You're not supposed to do this, he's not supposed to do this, but you can't seem to care as a slickness forms between your legs. Your lips part and he's quick to press his thumb into your bottom one the tip poking into your mouth antiseptic and flour leaking onto your tongue.

The floorboards down the hallway creak, and he drops your hand the same time you step away from him. With a blazing blush you try to kindly smile at him to avoid the feelings crawling up your spine, to avoid whatever awkwardness might arise.

He dips his head in farewell and leaves before anyone sees him in your kitchen.

Your sister muses beside you as you move around the small stand tidying it up to busy your hands. The frayed edges of the bandages were a good indication that the wound was healing but you kept it wrapped tight while you had something decent covering it. You trace the line of dust colored tape remembering the feel of his warm palm pressed underneath and you hate the skip in your chest.

You glance up eyes meeting Gavin and all pulse inducing thoughts vanish. He frowns as he shakes his head, your heart plummets realizing he won't be able to get your father any medicine. He's gone the next second as your thoughts pound down on you with every worse case scenario flying through it. You go to look at your sister, but she's speaking with someone.

The peacekeeper she had been with the other night is handing your sister money a tender smile in his lips as he pushes too much into her hand. "My Ma will love these." He points to the loaves he wants. "She misses district cooking, says the flour in the Capitol doesn't taste the same." His eyes find your surprised ones and he only motions to the loaf, "Your sister told me all about your famous sourdough, so I had to come try it out."

"Sejanus." She tells you.

"Thank you." You nod studying him, "Your mother is in the Capitol?"

Sejanus's eyes grow distant. "Yeah." He doesn't continue and you know better than to push.

"Sejanus." You look towards the familiar voice your new blonde acquaintance walking up to his side. "Is he bothering you?" He jokes.

"Quite the opposite." It's your sister that responds an innocent pink tint in her cheeks.

The blonde smirks at you, "I'll wrap these up for you so you both can be on your way." You pulled the loaf back and turned around to wrap it up for him.

"How long have you known Gavin?" You tried not to straighten up even though you felt your body locking up at the mention of him.

"Who?" It sounded so stupid coming out of your mouth, too high pitched as your fingers fumbled with the tie on the bread. You never called him by his name, it was easier to pretend you didn't know him at all.

"Gavin." You turned cradling the loaf in your arms. Your eyes scanned the market, you saw your sister and Sejanus conversing off to the side leaving you alone in interrogation.

You chuckled awkwardly handing over the bread. "I don't know who that is."

But his hand came around yours as you held it out for him, long fingers trapping yours a shock going up your bones wherever skin met skin. "Hmm. Must have been a mistake then."

You offered him a smile, "Do you want anything?" You needed to changed the subject, if he saw you with Gavin somehow besides when you ran into him, if he knew... "Don't you want a little taste of all your hard work?"

"I didn't bring any money." He slipped the bread into his hands.

But you were being rash as you sliced a piece for him, "Here, free sample." You watched him take it, "Don't tell anyone I let you have one."

He popped it into his mouth, "It'll be our little secret clumsy girl."

You turned away to hide your blush as your sister returned, "We should go out again tonight." She tried to phrase it as a question, but her voice was too loud and you had a feeling her and that boy planned it all.

You glanced back at them, at those pretty blue eyes, and your worries seemed to be a little bit smaller. She nudged your leg but you didn't need much convincing wanting to let her have as much joy while she still could, "Fine."

She lets you borrow another dress, a dark green one that falls above your knees flowers knitted along the bodice. You hate that your stomach is in knots as you walk with her, you hate that you're interested in what you will find, interested in him. You knew it was wrong but you couldn't help being intrigued how he made your heart race.

She slides through the crowd with you holding your hand with a rough grip to drag you with purpose. She knew where she was going. "Sejanus!" She beams dropping you hand and rushing towards him.

"I got you guys drinks already." He says holding out two mason jars of clear liquor.

You take it graciously and peer around the room suddenly feeling like you were intruding on whatever your sister was planning for her night. So you push around them and climb onto one of the empty barrel chairs and sip on your drink watching the couples spinning around the dance floor.

"I think Sejanus has a little crush on your sister." You feel his chest against your back first as his words float down to you both of you watching the pair laughing together in serene oblivion. You fight the urge to lean back into him.

You take another drink to calm your nerves as his fingers splay along the table near you. "Is he nice?"

His mouth in near your ear now, lips pressed to the shell of it. "Nicer than me."

You swallow turning your head slightly to take in his face so close to your own, "Are you nice?"

"I'm gentle when I want to be." His eyes take in your lips and then float back up again. You tug at your bottom lip the room suddenly beginning to feel too warm, too small. "Dance with me." He pulls back straightening up.

"Oh that's not-!"

But he has your hand in his, and he's helping you to your feet leading you away to the dance floor moving you around until his other hand lands on your hip pulling you in close. The song is slow, but you barely hear it as your breaths come in too loud with his chest pressed against yours. You let him lead watching the small smirk spread across pretty pink lips as your feet move in tandem with his, "Look at that." He chuckles, "My clumsy girl knows how to dance."

My clumsy girl.

It makes your stomach flutter and you know you should stomp out whatever was growing there, but you let him come closer, let his thumb trail across your left wrist to feel your quickened pulse. "Does it always hurt?" He asked.

"No." You can't look away from him even as his eyes are trained on your weak wrist. "Only when I use it too much."

"Hmm." He stills. Then he's slowly bringing your left wrist towards his mouth to plant a single kiss to the veins running underneath it.

Your face burns, your skin burns, you're overwhelmed by the heat.

Someone shouted and your head whipped around as bodies slammed into one another a fight breaking out in the middle of the room. You took a step forward to find your sister but the hand wrapped around your left wrist is dragging you back, yanking too hard where he shouldn't. He was pulling you from the crowd away from the brawl and people shouting, you looked over your shoulder seeing Sejanus sheltering your sister away as well. The side door flew open and slammed shut making you jump by the sudden loudness as the noise of The Hob became distantly quiet.

You turn towards him in the dark alley and can only get a single breath in before he's moving towards you, backing you up against the brick wall, caging you in.

"What are-!"

He swallows your words with a punishing kiss. You're mind goes blank. You feel his hands under your jaw cradling your face, his tongue grazes your bottom lip begging, baiting for you to open but the shock seals you shut. You taste the moonshine on his mouth, the stale flavor of minty military toothpaste and your hands finally go to his chest to push yourself away from him.

"We can't."

He only digs himself further into you smashing your mouths together once more. This time its his teeth that sink into your bottom lip roughly, sharply, until the taste of rust takes over everything else. You gasp in pain as he uses that to shove his tongue into your mouth. He tilts your face up more melding your mouths together and for a moment you do get lost in it, in the blind overwhelming passion, but theres something else there you don't turn your head towards as he grips you too tightly, like he doesn't want you to slip away into the night.

You kiss him back, you even tangle your fingers in his clothes savoring the way he consumed you.

His hand goes to your waist inching up your ribs with every devilish swipe of his tongue. Your eyes fly open as his thumb slides across the underside of your breast. Your hand goes to his wrist to still him, but he grabs it to pin it to the wall above your head.

"Ouch," You whisper out as he bends the joint too far. "You're hurting me."

His lips ghost down your neck, "Sorry," Your eyes flutter close as his teeth graze your carotid. "Can't seem to help myself."

"We-we should stop." You try to get your hand back but he's holding it too tight. "Someone could see us."

He goes still, finally pulling his head up to stare down at you. "Like who." It isn't a question and your brows furrow, "Are you worried your little boyfriend Gavin will see?"

"Wh-What?" You almost laugh. "I don't even-!"

His hand wraps around your throat, not hard, but enough to shut you up. "You're lying. I know theres something going on between you two, I saw the way he looked at you that night, and again at the market, all forlorn and devastated."

"He's nobody." It hurt you to say that after his kindness all these years.

"At least we agree on that." He yanks your jaw forward to sneer down at you, "I don't like sharing clumsy girl." He drops your hand and lets go of your face letting you roll the weak joint around.

You glance up at him, "Why are you being like this?"

He doesn't look at you just watches as he shifts his foot around, "I'll walk you home." He grabs you by the bicep pulling you from the alley and leading you home.

The walk home is silent as you trudge slightly a step behind him suddenly aware of how naive you had been to become tangled with him. He was a peacekeeper, a pawn for the Capitol, why did you ever think he could be something else too? Yet, you still felt something fluttering as your eyes took in his tall frame, remembering running hands along his muscled chest as he kissed you.

"Thank you." You tell him as he deposits you at your door. He did make sure you got out safely during the fight, and walked you home when he didn't need to. You met his blue eyes, maybe there was more to him than rough edges.

He doesn't respond only takes your face in his hands and kisses you roughly sucking on the throbbing wound along your lip until you groan out in pain again, and even then he keeps kissing you, keeps biting you until he finally steps back. His eyes look you up and down before he turns around and heads back into the darkness.

You watch his figure disappear, you stand there for a moment staring at the space he had occupied tracing the bruising lip he had given you still tasting the sweat, and spit, and blood.

You turn your face to the sun letting the early rays drench your skin. It was quiet out here, away from the district, only the birds and bugs to keep you company while the rest of the world slid away from existence.

You let the grass sway against your feet as you curled your legs underneath you staring down at your freshly uncovered hand. It had healed, but the small pinkish scar ran along your palm. You traced it with a sigh unsure where to place everything you were feeling regarding the man who has now given you two wounds.

As if on queue the ground is being crushed by boots and you whip your head to the side watching him approach you. He stops a few feet away a bunch of dying dandelions in his hand, "Your sister told me you might be out here." You hug your legs to your chest as you watch him step forward more. "I wanted to come apologize. I don't know what came over me. I think I had too much to drink and got angry about something stupid." He stops in front of you, blocking the sun holding out the bundle of yellow weeds. "These are for you."

You study his face, sunlight leaking out around his head like a halo casting his shadow over your body, and then you hold out your hand for him to place them in.

"Angry about what?"

He takes it as a sign and sits down next to you. You glance down at the dandelions. "I would have rather given you roses," He reaches out tucking hair behind your ear making you look at him; you know that wasn't what he had been upset about. His hand trails down your face brushing softly along your bottom lip. You wince slightly, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"We're not supposed..." You trail off the words seeming ridiculous in your head, but you weren't supposed to be together.

He inches closer to you until his leg is touching yours, "I know."

It didn't seem like it would stop either of you as you feel yourself leaning into his touch, "Just don't do it again." You find yourself saying taking his excuses and letting him cup your face to lean in towards you. Your breath hitches as his whole hand slides along your jaw, body heat radiates off him like the oven in your kitchen after a day worth of baking and you melt into it. You let him turn your body, let him lay it down on the bed of grass.

His bottom lip brushes yours and you close your eyes. You're aware of everywhere his hands are touching you, your hip, your jaw, aware of his thigh against the front of yours. His tongue licks upward hitting your top teeth and you sigh into his mouth as fingers dig into flesh, as your hands come up to his chest, as he kisses you slipping his tongue into your mouth, slowly, exploring the texture and groove of your mouth. Your hands twist into clothing, his grip hardening as you kiss him back gently, tentatively, like you know you shouldn't but you can't help it.

His hand covers your breast, kneading flesh through your clothes and you find your fingers around his wrist, the protest climbing in your throat, but it struggles to come out as his thumb passes over your nipples. It's overwhelming and raw and wrong. None of it makes sense, not as his mouth kisses across your jaw, down your neck, sucking the sensitive flesh as he rolls your nipple through fabric.

You feel his smile against your neck as you moan dragging his fingers down your body to slip under the hem of your dress. Your hand flies to his wrist again as he climbs up your thigh, he lets you wrap your fingers around his arm, "Shh..." He mutters into your skin. "Let me." He kisses down the column of your throat. "Let me make you feel good." He kisses you collarbone and slowly your fingers are slipping off of him. "Good girl." He traces the fabric of your underwear, sliding his fingers under the side as your toes curl into grass.

With another soft kiss he pushes two fingers inside of you. You close your eyes turning your head as you take a deep breath feeling him curling inside of you, feeling him push in deeper.

"Look at me." He whispers as his hand begins to move in and out of you at a gentle pace. You slowly turn your head, the heat staining your cheeks red as you take in his face. "Do you like this?" You bite your lip nodding your head as he strokes a sweet spot inside of you. "Tell me." He mumbles onto your lips.

Your mouth parts in a gasp as his palm presses down onto your clit and he's swallowing your pleasure. "It feels good."

"What feels good?" He's moving faster, his hand thrusting harder into you. He licks into your mouth caressing the moan out of you, "What feels good clumsy girl?"

"You!" You pant into his open mouth sweat glistening off your pounding chest.

He pulls back to stare down at you, "You gunna cum for me?" You squeeze your eyes shut, back arching into him the pressure building in your stomach as his hand shifts to press his thumb down on your clit to move in tandem with his hand. You feel your legs shaking beneath him, "You are. You must." He sighs contently and it's enough to throw you over the edge, heels digging into the ground, hands gripping his shirt as you clamp down around his hand. You have your eyes squeezed so tight the sun blinds you when you finally open them, as the orgasm blows over you like the breeze pushing the blades of grass.

You don't even realize he pulled his hand out until he's standing over you feet planted on either side of your spread thighs.

"What are-!"

His soaked hand is running along his cock, stroking himself over you. "Just lie there." He tells you with his tongue between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he fucks his fist to your exposed body. You want to look away, not stare, not pay attention to the lewd sounds his hand was making as it slid up and down his hard length.

But you can't help it. Not as he pants out curses, not as he drinks in your body, your face like a man starved for water. You meet his eyes, dark and focused on you and find yourself mesmerized by him.

"Take them off." He grunts out motioning to your drenched panties. "Now." You're still shaking from the orgasm, at least you think, as you slide them down your legs. "Show me." He moves his hand faster as your brows furrow slightly. He presses down on your thigh with a hard boot and you bite your cheek to cover the whine of pain, "Show me."

You let your head relax onto the grass as you part your legs for him to stare at your bare cunt. You watch clouds go by in the blue sky listening to him groan as he fucks his hand to the sight of your naked girlhood. You fist the bottom of your dress chewing on your swollen bottom lip.

Suddenly hot ropes of cum splatter across your bare chest and dress as he slowly keeps pumping his fist letting every drop leak onto you.

The world is darker as he blocks the sun once more, like a fallen angel losing its light as his cum dries on your sweaty skin. He tucks himself away before kneeling down across your torso. He runs two fingers through the clumps of white along to tops of your breast, stares at it, then stares at you. "Open." Your lips part slowly and he's pushing his fingers into your mouth shoving cum onto the back of your tongue. "Lick it off." Something strange creeps up your spine, something you are not sure you like, as your tongue swirls around his fingers taking the salty substance down your throat. "My clumsy girl." He flattens his fingers out, pressing your tongue down and then he pulls them out. He runs his hand along your chest once more smearing everything across bare skin, watching it shine in sunlight along your naked chest, slipping it under the top of your dress to coat it along your breast. He takes his hand back, admiring his work, and wipes his hand off on your clothes.

He picks your underwear off the ground and tucks them away. Then he's walking past you, leaving you lying there.

The sun feels colder as it hits your body, as you trace the boot shaped indent he had left in your leg.

A week passes by and you never see him. You find yourself searching for him involuntarily wherever you go. You glance out of your kitchen window to see if he's walking up to your home, you peer around the market to see if he's paroling the perimeter with the other peacekeepers, you even find an excuse to pass by the base to see if he's just beyond the fences.

You weren't sure why you were doing it, you weren't sure why it tugged at something inside of you, you weren't sure why deep down in your subconscious you felt...relief.

You didn't study that feeling too much.

Maybe he had left, shipped off somewhere else far away from you. Maybe he had gotten what he wanted from you and now he would move on to the next naive girl. You hated that he possibly viewed you as naive, you hated that you knew it was true. You had been naive. You always tried so hard to be smart with your heart, but the first glance at a pair of pretty blue eyes had made you forget, made you clumsy.

You shook your head as your fist pounded dough, falling in love with a man like that would be stupid. Falling in love with him would be like falling in love with darkness; frighting and consuming unless the moon was out. You didn't even know darkness's name.

No, you had just let him touch you far more than you should have simply because you enjoyed the way he kissed you, like he wanted to swallow you completely to keep you with him. You liked the way he made you feel like you were wanted, like you were his. You didn't want to be his...well maybe in a different world that had a different answer.

There was something else there, something horrid that chilled your bones whenever he looked at you in certain lights. You found your relief sitting right next to that feeling.

The door creaks open and your head spins so fast hoping he's finally come to see you.

Your heart sinks, "Gavin." You blink to hide worry, "You shouldn't be here."

He comes into the room more, "I know, I'm sorry. I felt awful about.."

"It's not your fault." You offer him a reassuring smile even though its fake. You tried to understand, but mostly you felt angry.

He sighs leaning against the counter across from you, "Well I had to keep trying." He digs into his pocket before sliding the vial over to you. You stare at it too shocked to move, "I was only able to get one but-!"

You're running around the counter to hug him, "Thank you." He pats your back as you pull back to beam up at him like life had somehow been shoved back into you. You step back grabbing up the vial to tuck away.

"Just make it last a month." He tells you, "I don't know when I'll be able to get more."

You nod heading to a cabinet and pulling down two loaves of bread to give to him as payment. You push them across the counter at him, "Thank you." You repeat because thats all you feel; gratitude and hope.

He scoops up the bread, "Your sister has been hanging around that Sejanus a lot."

You sigh, "I know...he seems nice." You smirk over at him, "But you know how peacekeepers can be."

"Oh I know." He chuckles but nods. "He's a good guy, hotheaded about stuff he shouldn't be, but he's alright." He knocks his knuckles against the counter, "I should head out. Take care kiddo." Gavin walks to the door leaving you in better spirts than he came.

You spend the rest of the day cleaning, sitting by your father's bedside after giving him half a dose of the medicine. He doesn't ask where you got it from, and you don't tell him. You know he suspects how but he never brings it up choosing to let you both live in the bliss of unknowns. You wait until he falls asleep to leave his bedside closing the door to leave him in peace.

It's dark outside as you close the curtains on all the windows before picking up the boxes of trash you needed to take outside. You sigh heavily as you hoist them up onto your hip and push the door open.

The outside is quiet and moonless, dark and empty, an amber street light offering the only glow along your home to guide you on the path around the house. Once everything is out of your hands you finally hear the crunch of gravel, the hair on the back of you neck stands up.

You stare out at the darkness feeling it stare back.

"Hello?"

Your body is slammed backward against your home before you're crumpling to the ground. A hand wraps around your arm to pull you to your feet to shove you back against the wall.

Your heart skips. "You're a liar." He snarls in your face before shoving your head back with the palm of his hand. "I hate liars."

"I-I di-!"

He slaps you across the face, it snaps to the side in a stinging blow. "You said he was nobody." You're too shocked to respond, to ask. "Why the fuck was he here?" Ice trickled down your body as you realize he had saw Gavin here today.

You slowly turn your head, "You never came...I looked for you."

An owl hoots off in the trees as his silence engulfs you. He holds your face between his thumb and finger before coming closer whispering onto your lips, "And then you were all over him like the little slut you are." You stare up at the black sky, "Don't even deny it I saw the two of you hugging in your little hovel."

"It's not what it looks like."

He lets go of your face only to slap it the other direction blood filling your mouth as your lip split all over again. He takes a step back and you try to regain control of your breathing.

"You said you wouldn't hurt me again."

"No you told me not to." He grabs you by the hair and flings you to the ground. "And I don't need to listen to you." Your knees hit the dirt first and you try to move, try to shove away, but his hand is twisted in your hair holding you in place in front of him. "You want to act like a slut." You hear him unzipping his pants. "You'll get treated like one."

You let your eyes close and ignore the sounds of him, ignore what is about to happen, ignore that just a few days ago you had wanted this, wanted him. He tugs on your chin and you let him open your mouth to push himself into it until he hits the back of your throat. His hand hits the wall as he sits there on your tongue for just a moment the taste of him dripping down your throat, it taste like the sweat you had seen slide down his forehead in your kitchen, taste like the scent of him when he bandaged your hand and his body had been so close. You despise how good it is, despise that your body warms. He pulls back and slides his cock back into your mouth over and over and over again until fresh tears spill down your face, as spit covers your chin. He pushes your head back, your hands coming up to grip his thighs fighting the urge to touch him more, fighting the urge to bite down to make him stop.

"Fuck." He breaths and a soft moan leaves your throat causing him to laugh at you. "Like my cock that much huh?" He slams himself deep into your mouth growling as your head hits the wall behind you with the force, "Such a fucking whore."

You don't, you can't, you won't.

But your tongue darts out and your nails dig into his thighs and he's fucking your mouth until he spills down your throat.

"Don't swallow it." He commands pressing his forehead into his arm against the wall. You don't because he told you not to as his cock twitches against your tongue until it begins to soften. He pulls it out and tucks himself away before bending down to gaze at your ruddy tear stained face. "How does it taste?" He pushes hair away from your cheeks smiling as you don't respond his cum pooling in your mouth. He shuffles to the side before running something along your hands, "You feel that?" Your fingers trace the ridges, the grooves, recognizing the shape fear pouring out you. "Yeah that's right. I would hate for something bad to happen to you...or your sister." Your eyes try to stay on his face instead of the gun in his hands. "Don't ever fucking lie to me again." A thumb strokes your bottom lip, "Okay you can swallow now."

You gulp it down, letting the remnants of him slide down your throat as your dignity sat in the dirt between your knees. For a moment you stare at each other, his face half covered in darkness, half illuminated by lamp lights, and for some reason you just want him to kiss you again, hold you. His knuckle brushes the corner of your mouth wiping away whatever cum was trailing down your face. He stands up helping you back onto your feet.

You want to tell him to leave you alone as a tear slides out of your eye, but he cups your face. He leans down, brushing his lips along yours. "My clumsy girl."

"I...I'm not..." You close your eyes wondering which part of the sentence you were trying to disagree with, but he kisses you. He tucks his hand into the base of your skull pulling you closer to him and you find yourself giving into the sensation, giving into him. It consumes you, he consumes you, delving into your mouth, tasting the salty tears, the remains of him still wedged between teeth. You can't even break away from him, he has to be the one to pull away first.

"Don't make me hurt you again." He says it so gently you almost agree with him.

You pull back slightly to stare up at his face coated in the night sky. You feel paralyzed in his arms like a fear shaped boot broke through your vertebrae as the question muddled your brain.

How does this end?

"Sejanus!" You sister's voice floats through the room and your groaning as you stand up soothing the ache in your knees. "What brings you out here?"

Your heart stops in your chest as blue eyes meet yours. You hear the blood pounding in your ears as you stare at him, as he stares at you the room tunneling in on him. You can't even hear Sejanus's reply to the question, but he's digging into his pocket for money as your sister moves around the kitchen.

Your mouth feels dry as your eyes look towards the room your father slept in the same time his does. "How is your father?" You snap back to Sejanus who is now looking at you. "Your sister mentioned he was ill."

"He's fine." You clear your throat moving behind your counter.

"What happened to him?"

You're not sure where to look. "He had to work in the mines...it messed with his lungs."

"I'm so sorry." Sejanus says and you genuinely believe him. "I'm supposed to attend medic training maybe I could find some way to help him."

"How kind of you." Your sister replies as she wraps up loaves he overpaid for and suddenly walking outside with him leaving you alone in the kitchen with this man.

The room feels like its squeezing in on you as he drinks in your frightened expression. He moves, coming around the counter to be standing a few inches from you. You watch his hand come up to trace his fingers along your cheek. "Did you like it?" He whispers against your head. "Don't pretend you didn't." Blue eyes flicker around your face and he begins to chuckle at what he finds there, "I bet you fucking touched yourself to the taste of my cock in your mouth, came so hard with my cum still on your molars." He came close, breath fanning around your face, "You would do the same around my cock isn't that right?"

A tear slipped down your cheek in defeat.

"Say it." He cooed hand sliding down your body to grip at the flesh of your ass pulling your body flush against his. "Fucking tell me." He growled teeth against your own.

"I did." You whisper bile rising in your throat as you remembered sliding your hand, still slick from your spit on his cock, between your legs when you came back in the house. "I did."

"Hmm." He takes your left hand running his nail along your ulnar bone. Then he's stepping away from you, turning around, and leaving without another word.

You slide down the wall with your head in your hands confused, overwhelmed, ashamed. There was only one thing to do to stop this tidal wave of psychological torture you were inflicting on yourself.

You wait for the next hanging, you wait for the next distraction when everyone's heads are turned away, and then you slip out into the night quietly making your way to the peacekeepers base. It's sweltering hot as you crouch behind buildings and slip between broken fences to get where you need to go. You feel sweat dripping down your back, sliding down the side of your temple as you keep to the shadows waiting...waiting...

You used to know his schedule so well, but you had become distracted, sloppy and now you weren't sure if you would even see him tonight to plead for his help. This was stupid, this was silly even if you did find Gavin what were you to say? This devious blue eyed man was stalking you, harassing you? You had let him. You had let him into your home, into your life, let him defile you knowing it was wrong, knowing you were courting death. Even if Gavin believed you his commander would just find a way to make it your fault and get you in trouble somehow.

Your shoulders deflated. You felt stuck.

You glance beyond the wall at the medical building. How simple would it be to slip inside and pull what you needed while no one was watching.

You're moving before you can talk yourself out of it, slipping inside the unguarded door to the thankfully empty room. It smells clean with neat unoccupied beds lining the wall and you wonder how much good they could do if they actually offered to help the district's people. It motivates you to start searching, digging through draws to find anything that could help your father. You feel adrenaline rushing through you making your vision too focused as you sift through vials of medicine that wasn't what you needed, your heart is racing, pounding in your ears as the quiet outside beats down on you.

You pause, it's too quiet. You got inside too easy. It shouldn't be this easy. The hair on your neck stands up a feeling you only got when-!

Flood lights creep into the window shining against his beautifully wicked face as the tears slide down your unblinking eyes. You couldn't look away as he slowly walks forward. He comes near you, face pressed into the side of your hair. "Little thief."

You feel him push hair off your neck to trace your jaw. "I didn't st-!"

His hand is around your throat quicker than a snake's strike and he's shoving you until your back hits the metal cabinet against the wall. "You as bad a liar as you are a thief." You claw up his arm as he stares you down, "I wanted to see you tonight, walked all the way to your little hovel just to find out you weren't there." He squeezes harder as your vision pulses at the edges, "Is this a little rendezvous for you and that stupid boy?" You furrow your brows in pain, in confusion so he slams your head back against the cabinet your ears ringing. "Don't play dumb I know you came here for him." He came forward, "You belong to me."

You fingers loosen on his forearm as you plead with your eyes. I know, I know. You try to tell him so he lets you go, lets you breath.

He does and you gasp for air, blinded by it, overwhelmed with oxygen you don't even realize he's shoving his hand inside of you. "Stop!" You croak out. "Please." But it's too breathy as he presses his forehead to yours curling his fingers as you plead into his open mouth. "I didn't-I didn't do..." You trail of into a moan as his palm presses down against your clit.

Blue eyes stare you down and for a moment you forget he's angry, you forget you're scared.

He yanks you from the wall and shoves you face down into one of medical beds. It groans as your hand tries to force yourself up but its too weak so you're flinging backwards towards him as he hoist your dress up. "Don't." You plead. "Don't do this." You swallow, "He used to help my father. I'm sorry. I-I only want you please, not-not him."

He leans down, kissing your shoulder. "Then don't you want this?" You feel his hard length press against your body.

"Not like this." You squeeze your eyes shut, fingers digging into the metal frame of the bed.

"How would you have me then?" His mouth grazes up your neck. "In your little bed spread open for me?" His mouth presses against your ear, "Or would you want to be top? Up against a wall? Out in the grass and dirt on all fours like an animal?"

His teeth dig into your ear lobe, "I-I want to look at you." You had imagined it, on the nights you came to the images of him above you, rocking into you with gentle ease. It was candle lit and sweet and everything he never had truly been. You tried to turn to look at him, "I want to know your name."

"No." He pulls away from you. You lay there for a moment wondering if this was all some sick way to scare you, that he wouldn't actually do anything. "Don't worry. I don't want you like this either." He shifts around and soon enough cold metal is skimming across your inner thigh.

"Wh-!"

He pushes the gun into you before you can breath. You cry out at the intrusion, your back arches as something burns from inside of you that you know you shouldn't like. He pulls it back slightly to push it in again and again and again thrusting the weapon in and out of you until you start panting. "Please." You whimper unsure what you're pleading for and he's too quick to slide his hand underneath you, rubbing circles into your clit as he fucks you into this thin mattress with his gun. You're a mess, your feet struggling to hold you as your climax builds rapidly. You feel yourself clench around it fisting the sheets, groaning into them to muffle the sounds.

You fucking moan.

You're not even sure if its in pain or enjoyment. "Like that huh?" He asked pressing down onto your clit hard, the ridges on the gun hitting some strange delicious angle. "Like me fucking you with my gun." You squeeze your eyes tight feeling the heat pooling in your stomach, you even push your hips back to take more of it. He growls, "Gods you're a sick fucking slut for it."

Maybe you were delirious, maybe you were everything he said you were, maybe it was the fact he could kill you right now with one slip of his finger, but your orgasm slams into and your gushing around his gun like some pathetic whore fingers twisting into sheets. You're overwhelmed with it, the darkness around you blending together as it takes you under and spits you out. You feel him yank it out of you and set it carefully on the bed beside you.

You feel wrong, you feel empty as you lay there against the bed in a post orgasm bliss and all you want to do is cry. "Come here." The bed dips as he sits next to you, his arm wrapping under your body.

"Let me go!" You sob but he flips you around to cradle your shaking body in his arms. "Let me go." You try again, weaker this time as your body leans into his, as his hand strokes down the side of your head. "Let me go..." You close your eyes as more tears stream down your flushed cheeks.

He never does.

He holds you for a while, his chin resting atop of your head while he caresses your body in his arms until the sky outside the windows starts to split into purples and pinks. He unravels himself from you guiding you to your feet, and without a single glance he walks out of the room. You stare after him loneliness engulfing you in its grey flame.

You drag yourself out of the building and back home, your own disgusting pleasure sliding between your thighs the entire walk.

You go to your father's room taking up the seat beside his bed and close your eyes for a second. "You're sad." He said quietly.

"I'm tired." You sigh.

He chuckles, "Same thing." You meet his gaze, "Does this have anything to do with that peacekeeper?" You sit up straighter unintentionally. "He came by earlier looking for you." You can barely hear what else your father says as you stand up going to the bedside drawer. You catch snippets of him warning you, telling you to be careful, but your eyes narrow on the empty drawer.

The empty drawer.

"He was in here?" It cracks on the way out.

But the front door flies open and your sister is standing in the bedroom doorway out of breath and frantic. Your eyes meet and you know something horrible has happened because of you.

Death was breathing down your neck.

The wind blows your unbound hair back as you stare shocked at his shackled feet dangling in a suspended moment in time. You can't bring yourself to look at his face, at that sweet face that had always helped you time and time again. It was pale now, bruised and cold, and dead.

He was dead.

Gavin was dead, hanging there like he had been nothing.

The tears leaked down your face.

"It didn't make sense at first." He starts. You don't even jump at his voice behind you, nor do you move as he comes closer to you. "Why you purposely ran into him that night we met, or why he was watching you in the market, or why he came by your home, but then you said he had helped your father." You take a shaking breath, "Your sick father." You felt him behind you now, "I found all those empty vials in your home, the same vials you were probably trying to steal from the medical building." You hear him digging into his pocket pulling out an empty clear vial and throwing it at your feet.

The last of your father's medicine.

"I-I needed..." You choke out terrified. Because it was empty, because it was supposed to last you another month if you stretched it, but now it was gone and so was any chance of getting more.

"Daddy needed it more."

You slowly turned to look at him, "He didn't deserve this." You can feel his body hanging heavily like the rope was tied to your own hands. You had practically kicked the stool out from under his own feet that sent him hanging.

"No, he didn't." He cocks his head to the side. He steps closer to you tucking hair behind your ear and his gun looms behind him like a twisted guardian angel.

You stare up at him, "You're a monster."

He leaned down and snarled into your mouth, "Yes I am."

He was never going to stop, he was never going to leave you alone.

You shove him roughly and take off flying past the hanging tree, flying past Gavin's dangling body and into the woods behind it. You run further and further into the woods, you know he probably is faster, more trained than you, but you don't stop, you can't stop. Green and brown blur past you as you sprint through the forest. You try to look over your shoulder to see how far away he is, but you're too busy dodging trees, jumping over loose logs.

Then your foot snags of vines and your tumbling into the dirt. Your left hand takes the brunt of the fall and you bite down the cry turning swiftly ready to kick him away from you, but he never comes.

You sit up frantically looking around for him, but he's no where.

It's too quiet, so quiet the sound of your pounding heart blares into you, so quiet you hear the bullet as it whizzes past your head. It hits the tree behind you, splintering wood, and you don't wait as you scramble to your feet to keep running. You don't look back, you don't look down, you just keep running even as your body groans in weary pain, even as the next gun shot sounds off around you.

He was hunting you like the prey he always saw you as.

You pump your arms faster, push your legs harder zig-zagging your way through the trees as bullets hit the trunks around you. You're running faster than you can breath the only noise in your head was the fear pumping through your veins. Your lungs burned hotter every breath that spat out of your mouth as branches smacked off your face, arms, skin, blood splattering in its wake as you ran. You kept running, you kept running even though it hurt more than the idea of giving up.

You threw yourself behind a tree shoving your palm into your mouth to quiet the rattling gasp you took.

He wasn't far, you could hear leaves crunching underneath heavy boots.

You stifled the whimper.

He was whistling to himself as he slowly walked through the woods soft rain drops plopping down on the leaves above. "Clumsy girl," He sang as thunder clapped overhead. "No need to hide from me." His foot slowly snapped over twigs causing you to jump as he neared you.

You hear him shift and then the bullet hit the tree bark shattering around you as you take off again, but this time he's shooting at your feet dirt splattering across bare ankles. He's not shooting at you, he's herding you. And you had fallen for it.

His arm wraps around your neck yanking you backwards and slams you against a tree wet hair slapping across your skin, and then you're staring down the barrel of a smoking gun. He peers at you, "Why'd you run?" You spit at his feet causing him to laugh as he lowers the gun grabbing you by the throat and squeezing. "Why'd you run?" He presses in close, his nose digging into your cheek and you try to gasp at the firmness between his legs, but nothing comes out. You stare upward at the canopy of leaves as it goes in and out of panicked focus, as the life is choked out of you. Lighting cracks across the sky, rain drops hitting your purple face.

He lets go, lets you finally take a breath, lets your vision return to take in his devoid face.

There's nothing there but blue emptiness.

"You killed him." Your voice cracks. "He was just-!"

He takes you by the hair and throws you to the ground. You start to claw at him, kick at him to get him away from you, but he knows your weak spots all too well having studied every bad habit you had willingly showed him and grabs your right hand to pin it into the dirt. With as much strength as you can muster in it you slap him with your poor left hand pain ricocheting down the tendon. In one swift movement he plants his boot on your left wrist and presses down until you feel the fragile bones snap.

He doesn't cover your mouth as you scream, as pain blinds you, as you writhe under him sobbing rain pouring down now around you turning the ground into mud. He pushes hair off of your face, attempting to be tender after breaking your pathetic wrist drinking in the sounds of you agony like a God of pain, like crushing your bones was a form of foreplay. You roll your head away to take in the sight of your mangled hand twisted in all the wrong directions. It feels numb, you feel numb.

Then you are both staring at each other trying to breath. He watches your chest heave, you watch his mouth part eyes finally meeting. You're afraid to speak, afraid to move. Rain melts your skin as you lay there suspended in a moment of disbelief the distant pain washing away into the dirt beneath you.

"Why'd you run?"

"Because I'm afraid of you."

"Wrong answer."

He flips you over to lay you in the wet dirt as he climbs over you his belt buckle ringing in your ears, his gun thrown carelessly into the mud. No, no, no you panic as his hand pushes your skull into the ground smearing it to the side of your face, as you feel him between your legs. You frantically look around and with pain suffocating you, your broken left hand wraps around his gun and you slam it backwards into his head.

He tumbles off of you as you stagger upward pointing the gun at him wavering on your feet.

He laughs at you. "Well go on then." He nurses the bruise forming on his temple. You're shaking as you hold the weapon at him barely able to keep it upright, but he climbs to his feet. "No... we both know you're not capable of that."

"You don't know anything about me." You try to seethe, but it comes out feebly.

"Don't I?" He cocks his head to the side. "I know if you kill me you'll hang for it, and then your father will die too." He takes a step forward until the gun is pressed into his chest. "And who will be there to comfort your dear sister."

You dare let yourself smirk, "Sejanus. You said he was nicer than you."

His features falter for a millisecond, but then the mask is back. "Which we both know isn't nice at all."

Your finger quivers against the trigger. "Anybody is better than you."

His hand reels, and you think he's going to knock the gun from your hand but instead he slaps you across the face the gun firing into the sky. The force of the blow sends you back into the ground, but you're already moving again despite the sting in your cheek, the blood and dirt in your mouth, running through the storm crashing down onto everything. You see the break in the trees, the dark blue expanse of freedom if you could just get to it.

You gasp coming to an abrupt halt.

You look down.

You watch in a calm shock as blood blooms like a rose across your dress.

The pain never registers, not soon enough as your knee gives out first and you collapse back onto the ground watching him tower over you. You press your hand into the wound feeling the stinging anguish it causes while he watches your broken body bleed out on the forest bed. You were going to die, and all you could do was stare up at him while you hemorrhaged.

He turned on his heel and walked away leaving you to die alone.

You started crying then, crying and holding your weeping wound as the realization of it all crept into you.

"Come back." You sobbed out. "Come back." You whispered, rain and tears drenching your face.

Something flapped above you the black bird taking flight screaming your words out into the woods. "Come back." They called, "Come back." You watched them soar above you smudging together through the water in your eyes. It became a sad quiet song to drift you off into nothing if you let it. You didn't know how far into the woods you were exactly, but maybe someone heard the gunshots, maybe you could get up and try to make it home. Your body felt warm from the blood coating you and you figured you'd never make it home ever again.

You waited for Death.

Boots pounded into the dirt coming up towards you quickly scooping up your limp body and running with it. You groaned in pain trying to look up at him but gave up as your body dangled in his arms. He clambered up wooden steps and soon a door was slammed behind you quieting the storm outside.

You finally looked at him as he gently set you on the floorboards. He tears your dress down the middle examining the bleeding wound, and then he's digging. You scream, your vision going away at the sheer excruciating pain of it, you hope you'll just pass out soon but you feel his fingers inside your stomach, hear every wet noise as blood pours out of you.

You barely register the small ping as it hits the floor beside you. You relish the relief even as his hands press your shredded dress fabric into the bullet hole.

"Breathe." He tells you. "Just breathe."

"You shot me."

His brows are furrowed as he pulls the bloody clothes away and stands up rummaging through things. "I need to close it." Stuff clatters to the ground as the shiver racks through you. He comes back hold a fishing hook and line. You try to brace for it as it pierced your skin, as he tries to close the hole he caused. You flinch but the pain is secondary to everything going on around you, all you can seem to focus on is his face.

"You would be beautiful if you weren't so evil."

A ghost of a smile from him, "So, I'm your villain then?"

"Why else are you doing this?"

The muscle in his eye twitched and maybe because you're going to die he actually answers. "My whole life, all I've wanted was power." He pulls the line through your skin again as your teeth chatter. "With you..." He had power over you, he had control and ownership from the first moment he saw you, commanded you and you submitted so easily. He pushed the hook back through.

You weakly smile, "I must be pretty special huh?"

Something crosses his face, something you don't examine too closely. It's gone within seconds his hands tying off the stitch, "You're nothing."

He leans back studying the hack job of a suture he attempted on you, watches blood still slowly trickle out of it as you continue to shake in shock. "Yeah well...my blood is on your hands."

He stares down at his maroon stained fingers and then meets your gaze. He moves for you scooping you up in his arms and carrying you back out of the door. It's still raining as he walks with your limp body, mud squishing underneath his feet and then water, you hear splashing as he wades through the shallow water with you until his chest is submerged. "Are you going to drown me after all that trouble?"

You stare up at grey clouds as your body floats along the gentle waves. He laughs lightly, "No." He stares down at you running a wet hand along your cheek dirt coming away. "I'm cleaning the blood off."

You let him. You let yourself float lifeless in the dark water as lightning scatters across the clouds. You blink. You breath. You try to stay alive as your wrist throbs, as blood continues to spread out beneath you.

His hands are far gentler than they've ever been as they skid across skin cleansing you of all his sins. You can't stop looking at him, as rain drips off his lashes onto your lips quenching a thirst you know shouldn't be there. He looked so peaceful, kind even, the hero in this twisted story and you figured you had died on that cabin floor. Light was going to split the heavens and take your body, or maybe the ground would open up to drag you into hell.

Water sloshed in your ears. Maybe you would be stuck in this in between of your death, forever wounded, with him.

"Will you tell me your name?" You whisper as rays of sun peak out from behind treacherous skies.

He swallows as he begins moving back to shore, "If you don't die I'll tell you my name."

You close your eyes, body swaying with each long cold step he takes back to that cabin. You knew he wouldn't take you home, not until he knew he wouldn't get in trouble for murdering you. He uses a knitted blanket to dry you off and sets you back on the floor. No, you hadn't died yet as the chilling pain racked through your bones, "Am I gunna die?"

"I don't know." He kneels by your side. "I don't know." The rain still softly patters down against the roof as he watches you breath, "Why'd you run?" He whispers.

Your ribs burn as they expand, as they try to get oxygen to your struggling heart. And maybe because you're going to die you actually answer. Your lips part, mouth dry and numb, as tears slide across your face. "Because I'm afraid of what it makes me."

"What?"

"Falling in love with you." You watch his teeth grid, watch his fingers flex. But nothing else. "Will you hold me..." Your breath rattles, "While I go."

He pauses for quite a while, so long that you let your eyes close. The floor boards creak as he shifts, as his body lays down next to yours, as his arm tucks under your head and he pulls you close to his warm chest. You listen to his heart as yours slows. "I'm leaving." He starts, "I leave for officer training in the morning and I'm never coming back."

"Good." You nod. You'll never see him again, and yet it brings new tears to your eyes.

His fingers trace the curve of your ear, "Look at me." You tilt your head up to him and he leans down softly pressing his lips to yours. You pull your face from him letting the shaky breath leave you, and then you kiss him again.

He opens you up gently swirling his tongue into your mouth, caressing your own in its own embrace as his hands shift your body. You whine out in pain, but he doesn't stop until he's hovering over you. You don't stop him either. He kisses across your jaw, down your throttled neck, licking the hand print bruise he had left there. You wrap your good hand around the back of his neck to hold him closer to you as his own kneads into your breast. He keeps moving lower wrapping his mouth around your peaked nipple lavishing it with his tongue, sucking and biting it so tenderly it makes your back arch into him for the cost of more pain.

He moves down more until his head is between your thighs, prying your burning muscles open, kissing your clit first before running his tongue along it. "Look at you," He peers between your legs chuckling to himself, "And I'm your villain." You run your hand along his buzzed hair moaning for it, for him as he traces delicate circles into your clit fingers pushing inside of you making pleasure consume you so much you hardly remember your wounds.

He makes you forget them too easily. He wraps his mouth around your clit and sucks against it pressing down hard with his tongue until you see stars, until he has you completely undone by him. You moan out into the air as you cum against his face feeling him licking at you as you ride through it.

He picks his head up climbing back up your body, he stills taking in the botched wound in your stomach. He runs his tongue along it before kissing it ever so softly.

"Why did you save me?" You ask as you stare up at him listening to him unbuckle his belt once more. "Why did you come back?"

He blinks, "Because you asked me to."

You feel him plant himself between your legs, "Would you stay," A shaky breath. "If I asked you to." You had wanted and feared this and now you're not sure if you could ever want anything else.

He pushed inside of you slowly, stretching you open in sweet agony and relief. It's blinding and painful and nothing could have ever prepared you for how it would fill you completely. You breath into his open mouth on yours, feeling him slide in deeper, deeper, deeper until you're more full of him than yourself. "No."

Then he shifts to pull back, to slam back into you as you cry out in pain. Not at him, at everything else. You stare up at him the hard metal of his dogtags hitting against your face with every thrust. Your nails dig into his back, legs coming around him to pull him closer, feel his warm skin on your own. He nips at your bottom lip and you don't care that it hurts anymore, you don't care that he hurt you at all. He feels too good inside of you. His hand sneaks between your bodies to press into your clit, "Cum on my cock." He groans into your feverish skin the rough chain cooling your skin.

"Tell me your name." You moan tilting your hips for him. "I want-I want..." You want to know it, know him.

He only fucks you harder, unforgivably harder that has you squeezing your eyes in pain and ecstasy. He bites down on your jaw, digs his teeth into your jugular, taking piece after piece of you. He breaks skin, he splits you apart seam by seam until theres nothing left of you. You would let him crush you, break you if he wanted, as long as he didn't let go. You groan out as his tongue laps at the wounds he gave you, as his fingers dig into your waist to thrust into you hard until you finally cum around his cock pounding into you.

"My clumsy girl," He smiles into your collarbone. You're nodding, your arching your back for him, letting your pleasure consume you as his cock hits every deep rooted thing inside of you. You don't even realize he started moving faster, pounding into you harder. His hands grab you by the ribs and he's spilling inside you thrusting slowly as he pushes everything deeper. Until finally he stops moving.

You don't move, you can't. "I was supposed to win." Your chest hits his with every heavy breath, with every sacred word, "And then they died and I got sent here." Your throat feels incredibly dry. "It still isn't enough, I want more." He stares down at your right hand, then slowly traces the white gash along it from the night you met him. "Come with me." Your brows scrunch in confusion at his whispered confessional, "Come with me." He repeats again running his finger back over the scar.

"Where?" You croak.

He brushes his thumb over it once more, "The Capitol."

The images flash across your mind as you watch him. You by his side in pretty clothing sitting in a warm glorious home with food that wasn't leftover stale bread. Images of lounging on soft couches with his arms around you, with kisses sweeter than sugar and sunlight on your naked skin. He doted and cared and made you matter. And after years of constantly caring for others around you, it was an addicting daydream.

But it's gone like smoke on a mirror. You could only see death in his face, and as sweet and tempting that death would be it would be anything but. He wouldn't kill you softly. He wanted you in a cage for only his enjoyment and control and it would break you down until you no longer existed. He didn't truly care, he just wanted to prove he could, prove that he already had.

Blue eyes meet yours, your answer to him being read there as he finally pulls out of you the hollowness ringing through your soul. He stands up, tucking himself away before rummaging through the house he brought you inside of, then he comes back kneeling by your limp left hand. He gingerly takes it and ever so slowly begins to wrap it up tightly to set the bones back in place. You too numbed by the pain to register it, so you watch his face while he tends to your wounds. Then he sets it back on the ground but you grab his fingers before he lets go completely.

You tug on his ring finger. Stay, You say with your eyes in more ways than one, Stay. He could be free here, away from a haunted past that had made him vengeful and power hungry.

He doesn't say anything. He just lays down next to you, pulling you close once more as your eyes shut, as you drift off into nothing within his arms.

By morning he's gone.

You lay on that cabin floor as the truth sinks in. You're not dead, and he's gone.

He was gone. You were happy about it. You glanced around the cabin eyeing the white shirt spread out for you the silver chain draped across it. You reach for it fingers wrapping around his dog-tags.

You trace his name.

You tug the shirt on your body slipping the dog-tags around your neck and with the little strength you have, you stand up. It takes you a while but you leave the cabin tenderly walking back towards the damp shore. You wade out into the water, like he had done with you broken body, and lean back until you were floating weightless on your back, staring up at the bright sun.

He wanted his power, and he never would find that here; it would never be enough for his starving rotted soul. For some reason your heart hurt more than the ever bullet did.

You wished for his shadows. You wished for his death.

Your father died when winter came, it was too cold, and without medicine, once the winter fever set in he never had a chance.

Your sister does all the baking now. Your left hand never healed properly making it too difficult to use it, you try to help her in other ways, but baking reminds you of him and makes the wounds burn even though they were healed, you hate that they healed. You hate him.

You run your hand along the chain around your neck, the dog-tags tucked deep beneath your clothes. All you had left of him was that precious metal and a gunshot wound, and as you watch him sworn in as president, as your sister sells bread beside you, you hope one day Death sends a baker to destroy Coriolanus Snow.

endnotes: hi friends!! hope u enjoyed!! this story legit was so fucking hard to write. it had a whole different concept and characters and everything but it just never clicked with me even tho i had so many ideas but i couldn't figure out how to move through it fluidly. i rewrote this whole thing SO many times bc i couldn't connect with it, had to take a break, and finally ended up here with a version that wasn't what i set out for it to be, but ended up enjoying it a lot more ? i think hormones got to me and i just made it really sad instead of vicious :) but anyways!! love u all so much!!

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