#(for the first time here in a bit embarrassed to say)

[ggukivrse]

THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM | JJK

summary. when you complain to jungkook about your lack of action in the past year, you're not really asking for a solution. but when he casually offers to help, you just can't seem to bring yourself to say no.

after all, what's the worst that could happen in hooking up just this once?

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

warnings: swearing, they actually talk about their feelings :0, explicit sexual content, kissing, making out, hickeys, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (be smarter than them pls), a bit of banter, petnames (baby), they're really fucking cute in the end it makes me sick, let me know if i missed anything!

notes: idk if this counts as my first completed series buttt... i'm gonna act like it does. thank you so so much to all the love and support you guys have given me for the past two parts, i'm genuinely so beyond grateful for it all :<< hopefully, you guys enjoy this part too!!

ps. READ PART ONE HERE & PART TWO HERE!!

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You open his chat window again like it’s muscle memory. Like your thumb don't know how to not betray you.

It’s not even about sending something. You’ve got no intention of doing that. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. But the screen is always open, staring back at you with that last unread message you sent almost a week ago — a throwaway meme you found on your lunch break. No reply. Not even a reaction.

And it hadn’t felt like a big deal in the moment. You sent it like always, light and dumb and nothing. But then the nothing kept going. No little gray typing bubble. No 'lol.' No double text. No late night 'you up?' Just this wall of silence.

You would’ve rather gotten a dry reply. Hell, even a thumbs up. Anything to prove that he saw you.

But now it’s been long enough that sending something new would feel desperate. Like you’re chasing him. Like you’re asking for something you’re not even supposed to want.

You lock your phone and throw it face down on your bed.

Then pick it back up five seconds later.

Then toss it again, harder, as if that’ll prove something.

You wish you were mad. You think you are mad — at least a little. But it’s a tangled kind of anger. One that knots itself up with embarrassment and sharp, bitter shame. You want to scream at him, yeah. But also at yourself.

Why did you let this happen?

Why did you let him blur the lines and kiss you like that and touch you like he meant it?

You were supposed to be smarter than this.

You lie back across your bed with one arm flung over your eyes. It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid. It was just sex. Just two nights. Two insanely good, dangerously close, way-too-connected nights. But still — technically just sex.

Except it wasn’t.

Not when he remembered your favourite sauce order without asking. Not when he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear while you ranted about work.

And especially not when he went cold the second things felt too good.

That’s what keeps twisting the knife. That shift in him. Like someone flipped a switch and rewrote the script. One minute, he was holding you like you mattered. The next, you were stepping out of his bathroom and into a stranger’s apartment.

You haven’t heard his voice since.

You bite the inside of your cheek and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push down that lump of feeling before it rises too high.

It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re overthinking it.

Maybe he’s just going through something. Maybe he didn’t mean to shut you out. Maybe he thought you didn’t want to hear from him. Or maybe he’s just a fucking coward who got scared when the stakes changed.

But then, why didn’t you reach out?

Why didn’t you ask if he was okay, or tell him he was being weird, or demand an explanation like you’re owed one?

Because you’re afraid.

Because you don’t want the truth if the truth is that he regrets all of it.

Because deep down, you know this isn’t just a friendship anymore, and pretending it is would break you worse than silence.

Your phone buzzes once on the comforter beside you.

You freeze. Then sit up fast, breath catching halfway in your throat.

Your eyes are already scanning the screen before your brain can fully catch up.

Kook 🍜: hi

One word. Just hi. Like the last seven days didn’t happen. Like your stomach hasn’t been in knots trying to make sense of his silence. Like he didn’t vanish without warning after folding you into his sheets and leaving you to figure out what the hell it meant.

Your breath leaves you in one uneven exhale.

You blink at the message, your body locked in this strange stillness. Your thumb hovers, frozen. Part of you is tempted to stare at it until it disappears. Ignore it. Let him feel what it’s like to be the one left hanging. But your hands betray you again — just like they always do with him.

You: Radio silence for a week and all I get is a fucking hi? Wtf Jungkook

It’s not even what you really want to say, but it’s the closest thing you can manage that doesn’t sound like I missed you so much it made me sick or please don’t do this again.

Three dots appear.

Your heart squeezes like it’s caught in someone’s fist. And then the dots vanish.

Then come back.

Then vanish again.

You mutter, “Fucking say something,” to no one. It comes out too small, too desperate. You shut your eyes tight for a second like you can wring the feeling out of yourself by force.

A minute or so passes before his reply finally sends.

Kook 🍜: sorry. can i talk to you today?

You reread it so many times the text starts to lose meaning. Can I talk to you today?

You feel sick.

There’s no way you don’t know what this is. The phrasing. The tone. He wants to talk? What the fuck else could that mean, if not that he’s about to cut things off? That he’s going to hand you some polite little speech about how you’re great, but this can’t happen again. That he wants to stay friends and he doesn’t want to confuse things any more than he already has.

Or worse — he thinks you guys are better off cutting contact all together.

You bite down hard on your thumb, suddenly on the verge of tears and furious at yourself for it. You should’ve never let it get here. You should’ve drawn the line before the second time. Before the car. Before the party.

You should’ve been more careful with your heart.

But you’re here now. So far past the line you can’t even see it anymore.

You open your keyboard, then close it again. You want to ask what he wants to talk about. You want to demand answers over text so you don’t have to see his face when he says the words. But you know you won’t get anything that way.

You: Where?

Kook 🍜: i can come to yours

You sit there for a second, just breathing. You feel like you’re bracing for a crash that’s already midair.

You: What time?

Kook 🍜: i can be there in an hour?

You don’t answer. Not right away. You’re too busy staring at your reflection in the dark screen, wondering why your face looks so calm when your body feels like it’s trying to collapse in on itself.

You: Okay

You put the phone down carefully, like it might go off again, or explode, and turn your gaze to the ceiling. Every minute after this is going to stretch like it’s mocking you.

You don’t know if you’re getting closure or clarity. You don’t even know which one would hurt more.

But you know you won't cancel.

Because if this is going to end — if he’s going to say it — it has to be to your face. You need to see it.

You need to know for sure.

Jungkook is fucked.

Like, actually, cosmically, irreversibly fucked.

He stares at the elevator doors like they’re the gates to hell, and his own reflection in the brushed metal does him no favours. He looks tense. Jaw tight, shoulders hunched up high like he’s trying to fold himself into a more manageable version. Someone chill. Someone who isn’t about to shit himself over the thought of seeing you.

He rolls his shoulders back, shakes out his hands. Useless. He’s already sweating through his hoodie.

Every nerve in his body feels like it’s tuned an octave too high. Like if someone so much as breathes in his direction right now, he’ll either snap or confess something humiliating.

He wipes his palms on his jeans again. That’s the fourth time since the lobby.

The worst part is, he knows how he got here. He knows exactly when it happened, too — the moment the line moved.

It was your laugh. The tired kind, all cracked at the edges after that hellish Friday you had. You were curled up in his passenger seat, half out of it, feet tucked under you, and you’d looked over at him with that soft, worn-down smile.

And it just… hit him.

The weight of it. Of you.

He wanted to reach over and touch your face. Not to tease. Not to start something. Just to feel your skin under his fingers like it was allowed now.

And the second that thought formed — clear and blinding and way too tender — it was over. Game fucking over.

Because it wasn’t supposed to feel like that.

You’re his best friend. Have been for years. He knows how you take your coffee, how you organise your playlists by mood, how you chew on the inside of your cheek when you're anxious. You’re not just some girl he hooked up with at a party. You’re you.

And now, he’s standing in an elevator on the way to your apartment, trying not to think about how badly he messed it all up.

He hadn’t meant to ghost you. Not really. It was just — after that night, after the way you looked at him, all warm and trusting — he panicked. Full-body, brain-scrambling, total system failure. He couldn’t even look at you without feeling like he was seconds from saying something stupid like "Don’t sleep with anyone else, please," or "I think I’m in love with you."

So instead, he shut down. Did the one thing he always swore he wouldn’t do with you — he pulled away. Got weird. Avoided it. Avoided you.

And now you’re pissed.

Rightfully so.

He deserved that text you sent. Probably worse. You could’ve ignored him completely and he wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. You texted back and he’s clinging onto that like a lifeline. Because it means there’s still time. Still a chance to fix it — if he doesn’t blow it again.

He presses the heel of his hand to his chest like that might steady the erratic rhythm of his heart.

What the fuck is he even going to say?

Sorry for being an emotionally constipated idiot?

Sorry I ghosted you because I realised I’m in love with you and it short-circuited my whole fucking personality?

Sorry I thought I could fuck you and still keep pretending like you don’t mean more to me than anyone else?

The elevator dings.

Jungkook flinches like it slapped him, then scrubs a hand through his hair, lets out a tight breath, and steps through the doors before he can change his mind.

He’s here.

Fuck. He’s actually here.

Jungkook looks like he didn’t sleep last night. Hair messy, clothes a little wrinkled, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second before they dart away again. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jacket like he’s afraid of what they’ll do if left unsupervised.

You tell yourself not to feel relieved. Not to let it show. He didn’t cancel. He showed up. That shouldn’t mean as much as it does. It really, really shouldn’t.

But still — there’s something in your chest that unclenches when you see him standing there, real and present. Even if he does look like he’s about to apologise for burning down your house or something.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.

You step back from the door to let him in. Dry. Wordless. The move is automatic, but your body feels stiff with it, like your own muscles are annoyed on your behalf.

He hesitates before stepping inside, like he thinks the floor might swallow him up. You don't offer a smile. Don't even look at him once the door’s closed behind him.

You cross your arms and lean back against the edge of the kitchen counter, watching him with a blank expression that’s only half-real. The other half is tightly coiled under your skin — anger, sure, but under that, all the feelings you’ve been pretending not to have.

He does a slow, uncertain glance around your apartment like something might’ve changed since the last time he was here. But it hasn’t. It’s still your place. Same plants, same overhead light humming softly, same faint scent of laundry detergent that clings to the air.

He stands there awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It’s like he doesn’t know where to put his body.

You’ve never seen him like this before. Not around you. Jungkook’s always been comfortable here. The kind of comfortable that leaves shoes by the door without asking. The kind that opens your fridge like he owns a shelf. But right now, he looks like a stranger in someone else’s house.

You let the silence stretch out. You’re waiting for him to just speak, but he doesn’t

He doesn’t even try.

Eventually, your voice cuts through the air, a little too sharp. “Jungkook, you said you wanted to talk.”

His head snaps up like he forgot that was part of the deal. Like the fact that he came here at all already cost him everything he had in reserve.

“Yeah,” he says. His throat moves when he swallows. “I do.”

You raise your eyebrows, waiting.

He opens his mouth like he’s about to start, then closes it again. Shifts his stance. Rubs the back of his neck with one hand. You catch the way his eyes flick to the floor, then back to you, then away again.

You narrow your eyes. “Well?”

He breathes out a weak, almost bitter laugh and runs both hands down his thighs, like he’s physically trying to ground himself. “I don’t know how to do this,” he mutters.

You frown, arms still crossed tight across your chest. “What? Talk?”

You hate being like this towards him — you feel like a bitch. But it’s the only way that you can stop yourself from just spilling all of your thoughts and feelings to him.

“No, I—” He breaks off, jaw flexing. “No. I mean… say the right thing. Say any of it without sounding like an idiot.”

You blink, unimpressed. “So you came here without knowing what you were gonna say.”

He looks at you then. Fully. And for the first time since he walked in, you see the real wreckage behind his eyes. There’s nothing cool or casual about it. He’s unravelling in slow motion. Everything about him is quiet desperation wrapped in someone trying really hard not to fall apart.

“I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t know what I wanted,” he says finally. “And then I figured it out, and that somehow made it worse.”

You stay silent.

He shifts closer, not by much — just a few inches. “I fucked up,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper. “I know I did. I know I disappeared. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care. I was just—” he stops, jaw tightening again. “I got scared.”

You scoff under your breath and look away.

“I’m serious,” he says, softer now. “It freaked me out. How fast it happened. How much it changed.”

You look back at him, jaw set. “What changed?”

He swallows again. Stiff. His voice cracks a little when he speaks next.

“You,” he says again. “How I feel about you. That changed.”

Your chest tightens.

You don’t react, not visibly. You keep your face still, unreadable, even though your brain is suddenly scrambling. You’ve been yanked in too many directions this past week. You’re not going to lean into hope just because he finally decided to speak.

So you say nothing. You just hold his gaze and wait.

Jungkook takes a breath, his shoulders rising with it, then falling in a slow, deliberate exhale. The nervousness is still there — but it’s settled into something quieter now.

“I kept trying to tell myself it didn’t mean anything,” he says. “That it was just— whatever. Two friends, getting carried away. We were drunk the first time, right? It was easy to lie to myself about that. Easy to say it didn’t have to go anywhere.”

His voice is calm, but there's tension underneath it.

“But the second time?” He pauses, tongue running along the inside of his cheek, eyes still locked on yours. “That wasn’t drunk. That wasn’t casual. That was me driving us across town just to make you feel better, because I can’t stand it when you’re not okay.”

You flinch — barely — but he sees it. You know he does.

“And then it was me kissing you like I’d lose my mind if I didn’t. You think I didn’t notice how different that felt? I’ve never kissed you like that before. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between you.

You’re still standing by the counter, arms crossed, but now your grip has loosened. You hate how much this is getting to you, how badly you want to give in, how your chest aches just hearing him say the things you’d only let yourself think when the lights were off and your phone screen was dark.

Jungkook takes another step toward you.

“When I brought you back to mine that night… when you came out of the shower, and I saw you just standing there in my space, looking at me like I was safe…” His voice catches, but not in a way that makes him crumble — just enough to show the truth of it. “I freaked the fuck out.”

You blink at him, finally speaking. “Yeah. I noticed.”

He huffs out a breath that's almost a laugh, but not quite. “I didn’t mean to shut down. I didn’t even know what I was doing in the moment. I just— everything in me wanted to pull you close, and that’s when I realised I couldn’t keep doing this the way we were doing it. Not without losing my shit every time you left.”

Your throat feels tight, but you still ask, “So you decided to ghost me instead?”

That lands. His jaw flexes, and he nods once. “Yeah. I did. I thought if I gave it space, I could go back to being normal. Go back to just being your friend. But I couldn’t. I can’t.

“I don’t want to be just your friend anymore. Not because of the sex, not because it was good— which it was, but that’s not the point. It’s you. It’s always been you. I didn’t realise how much until I almost lost it completely.”

You swallow hard. Your arms are uncrossed now. Not folded in, not defensive — just hanging at your sides like you’re too stunned to remember what to do with them.

Jungkook steps in closer. Not touching you yet. But near enough that you can smell him — faint cologne, his laundry detergent, the scent you associate with your car windows fogging up.

“I missed you,” he says, and his voice turns softer. “Every day. And it scared the shit out of me, how badly I wanted to talk to you. Touch you. Just be around you. I wasn’t ready to admit it last week, and I was a coward for that. But I’m not running anymore.”

Silence again.

Except it doesn’t feel like the ones you’ve been drowning in for a week.

“I don’t know what you’re feeling,” he says, lower now, like the words might break if he’s too loud. “And I’m not assuming anything. But if you still want me around— really want me— just say the word. I’ll figure out the rest.”

You inhale slowly, try to even out your breathing, but your chest still feels like it’s barely holding together. Your heart’s doing that thing where it thuds too hard without speeding up.

You hate that you believe him. That you always would’ve. That no matter how angry you were, no matter how cold you tried to be when he walked in — you still wanted him to explain, to prove it wasn’t what your worst thoughts told you it was.

And now he has.

He’s standing in front of you with open hands, with the words you oh so desperately wanted to hear. And for a moment, you’re not sure what to do with that.

“I hate you,” you say quietly.

It’s not true. Not even close. But it’s the first thing that leaves your mouth.

Jungkook huffs out a dry laugh, eyes dropping to the floor. “Yeah,” he murmurs, nodding. “I figured.”

You shake your head once. “No. I mean it. I fucking hate you for this. For—” You break off, because your voice is shaking now. “For making me feel like I was crazy. For not even saying goodnight after… after everything.”

His face tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“You could’ve just told me,” you go on. “You could’ve said it was too much. That it got weird. That you needed time. Anything. But you disappeared. And I had to sit here wondering if I made it all up."

You pause, pressing your lips together.

“And I— I missed you too, you know,” you add, quieter this time.

His mouth opens like he might speak, but no sound comes out at first. Instead, he closes the space between you by half, slow and steady, like he’s afraid of pushing too far.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” you whisper, but your tone isn't mean. Not even close.

He laughs, soft and low. “Yeah. I know.

“You promise me you’re sure? Cause Jungkook, I will fucking cut off your dick if you pull this shit again.”

He smiles but doesn’t hesitate. “I promise. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

You stare at him.

Long enough that the air between you stretches taut, thin as thread.

His hand twitches like he wants to reach for you but still doesn’t know if he’s allowed. His jaw flexes, his chest rising and falling in uneven swells. You can tell he’s waiting — for a sign, for a go-ahead, for you.

And even though part of you still wants to be mad, still wants to make him sweat just a little longer, the rest of you aches. For his mouth. For his hands. For the solid, grounding weight of him.

So you move.

You step into the last inch of space between you and grab the front of his hoodie. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a year, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything.

You kiss him.

Not out of impulse. Not for show. You kiss him because you need to. Because your chest feels like it’s going to split open if you don’t.

At first, it’s quiet. Just lips pressed to lips — careful, slow. There’s a pause between each pass of your mouth over his, like you’re both trying to remember how this started. How you even got here.

But then he sighs against you — not loud, not dramatic, just a sound full of relief — and it unravels something.

His hands lift, hesitating for only half a second before they settle on your waist, fingers curling tight. You press closer, and his lips part beneath yours. The angle shifts. Your nose bumps his cheek. It’s not perfect, but it’s real, and when your tongue brushes his, everything tilts.

The sweetness melts fast.

He makes a sound low in his throat and drags you in like the distance is unbearable. Your hands slide up into his hair, fingers threading through the strands at the base of his neck, and the way he reacts — the little shiver he tries to swallow — sends heat straight down your spine.

You kiss him harder.

His body crowds yours until your back meets the wall. Not rough, not rushed. Just firm. His chest presses to yours, and you can feel the way his heart races. How your own pulse kicks up to match it.

The kiss deepens, turns messy at the edges. His teeth catch your bottom lip and your breath stutters, but you don’t pull back. You tilt your chin, chasing more, and the next time he kisses you, it’s hungrier. One of his hands slips to the small of your back, palm dragging slow and warm beneath your shirt. The skin-to-skin contact makes your whole body twitch.

You gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound, his hands tightening. His other arm slips around your waist completely, pulling you flush against him, and suddenly you’re not thinking anymore. You’re just feeling.

The tension that’s been bottling up between you two — the silence, the week of wondering, the ache of missing him so much it hurt — it all floods to the surface.

You fist your hands in his hoodie, yanking him impossibly closer. Your hips shift forward, just enough to brush him, and the sound he makes is sharp and involuntary, caught between a breath and a groan.

“Fuck,” he mutters, barely pulling back. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged. “You’re driving me insane.”

You huff, lips brushing his. “That’s fair.”

Then he kisses you again. Rougher this time. Desperate in a way that makes your knees go soft.

He doesn’t stay at your mouth for long. His lips trail down — your jaw, your cheek, the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and uneven, and when he finds your neck, your whole body reacts. Your hands clutch at him, your back arches off the wall, and the soft sound that escapes your throat isn’t one you mean to make.

He feels it. Hears it. Answers it with a low, reverent sound that seems to vibrate straight through you.

His tongue traces the spot beneath your ear, slow and deliberate, and your eyes flutter shut.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, your breath catching sharp in your throat. You pull back for a second before lowering your mouth to his neck, right where the collar of his hoodie dips. He lets out a small sound, hands flexing on your waist, when your lips press there.

You start slow. You can feel his pulse under your tongue, the way his chest rises against yours, unsteady and warm. Then you part your lips and suck gently at the spot just below his jaw. His whole body stutters, hips jerking against yours before he can stop it.

Your fingers trail down his chest, tugging his hoodie collar aside for better access. His head tips back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted.

You do it again, this time with enough pressure to leave a mark, and the sound of your mouth working against his skin is lewd.

He groans. It’s low and rough and barely held back, and the sound shoots straight between your legs. You feel him hardening now, undeniable through the fabric where he’s pressed against you.

“All mine?” you whisper, your lips brushing over the new mark you’ve left.

He doesn’t even hesitate. “All yours.”

His voice is breathless. Wrecked. And so damn certain it knocks something loose in your chest.

You pull back just enough to look at him — really look. His pupils are blown, his lips swollen, a flush climbing high on his cheeks. He looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like he would if you let him.

“I missed that mouth,” he mutters, hands gliding under your shirt again, palms broad and warm. “Missed everything.”

You kiss his throat in reply and drag your teeth across it until he swears under his breath.

His hips grind against you again, harder this time. You both feel it — the friction, the heat building between your bodies.

His arms shift beneath you and he lifts you clean off the ground in one smooth motion, hands strong under your thighs. A startled sound escapes your throat as your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, gripping him tight.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I want you so bad it’s actually stupid.”

You smile, drunk on the feel of him.

“Bedroom?” you murmur, tracing your lips over the new mark blooming against his skin.

He hums lowly, and shifts his grip on your thighs.

He carries you through the hallway and your lips never leave his skin for more than a second.

When he reaches your bedroom, he doesn’t hesitate. He steps inside and drops you onto the mattress in one fluid movement.

You barely get your bearings before he’s crawling over you, slotting his body between your legs, His mouth finds yours again, and you moan into it before you can stop yourself when his knee presses between your legs.

Your hips twitch, grinding down against the pressure, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through your chest as his mouth moves with yours. His hand slips under your shirt again, this time bolder, fingers spanning across your ribs and inching higher until his knuckles brush the curve of your breast.

You gasp softly, and he pulls back just enough to murmur, “Off.”

You sit up just enough to grab the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head in one smooth pull, your hair mussed from the friction. He watches the fabric fall to the floor, then looks at you.

“You’re so fucking pretty," he breathes.

You roll your eyes automatically, even though your face is already burning. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” he says, and his voice drops low. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His lips part and he kisses along your sternum — slow, wet presses of his mouth that trail up and then out, over the swell of one breast, then the other.

You inhale sharply when his mouth grazes the sensitive skin beside your nipple, and his eyes flick up at the sound, pupils blown. He kisses lower, then higher again, murmuring against your skin, “Can’t believe I went a week without this.”

The vibration of his voice right against your skin makes you arch, and he meets you halfway, grinding down slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what you’re chasing and wants to stretch it out just to watch you squirm.

Your hands curl into his shoulders, nails biting down just enough to make him grunt softly into your skin. He rolls his hips again, slow and heavy, and the pressure against your core has your breath catching in your throat.

“Koo,” you whine out.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips pink and wet, hair falling into his eyes. He grins, crooked and hot and deeply pleased with himself.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, and his voice is pure sin.

You glare, but your thighs shift open under him anyway.

“Please.”

He hums, satisfied, and starts working his way lower. Every kiss is wet and unhurried. Down your chest, across your stomach. His hands follow, smoothing over your ribs, down to your hips, dragging the waistband of your pants just slightly with them. His thumbs hook in the fabric, pausing right above your pelvis.

He looks up at you, smug and dark-eyed.

“Gonna let me take these off?”

He's so annoying you're gonna kill him. “Do I look like I’m stopping you?”

“No,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below your navel, “but I like hearing you say it.”

You huff, fingers threading into his hair again. “Take them off, Kook.”

He eases them down slowly — too slowly — dragging the fabric down your legs while his mouth follows in a path of heat and pressure. He kisses your hipbone, your inner thigh, every patch of skin he uncovers like it’s something sacred. When your panties go next, he makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat — more reverent than smug this time.

You’re already wet, already aching, and from the way his eyes flicker as he takes you in, he fucking knows it.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re soaked. You missed me that much?”

You exhale hard, cheeks hot. “Shut up and do something about it.”

He grins again, slower this time. “Anything you want.”

His hands grip your thighs and spread them further apart, and before you can say another word, his mouth is on you.

The first swipe of his tongue is long, and delibirate. You jerk at the contact, a broken sound slipping from your lips, and he groans like he’s the one falling apart. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you in place, and does it again.

Every movement of his tongue is practiced and precise. He starts slow, almost gentle, licking through your folds with a kind of focus that makes your head spin. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, but he pushes them apart with ease, never breaking rhythm.

Your hands move to the back of his head, gripping tight. His tongue circles your clit once, then again, and the third time he sucks it between his lips. You try to stifle a moan, but it slips from your lips anyway.

He pulls back just enough to speak, breath hot on your skin.

“Keep making those sounds, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “Wanna hear every fucking thing I do to you.”

He movements turn faster, his mouth messy and hot and relentless. You’re already close, the build-up sharp and climbing, and he can feel it. One of his hands slips lower, spreading you open further with his thumb, and his tongue drags in tighter circles.

You’re writhing, panting, toes curling into the sheets. Your fingers tug at his hair, your spine arching off the bed.

“Fuck— Kook—” you gasp, head thrown back.

He groans again, the sound vibrating straight through your pussy. He doubles down, mouth moving faster, and when your hips start to stutter, erratic and desperate, he presses his hand over your stomach, grounding you.

“You’re gonna come for me?” he murmurs against you, mouth slick with you. “Gonna let me taste it?”

You nod frantically, unable to speak, your whole body wound tight and ready to snap.

He presses his mouth against you again, lips sucking against your clit, and the feeling has you squirming with pleasure.

“Kook—” your voice breaks open as you come hard against his mouth.

He moans, but his movements don't stop.

Your body arches helplessly, heels digging into the bed, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other still tangled in his hair as you ride out the wave. You’re gasping, blinking hard, your heart trying to punch through your ribs.

Only when your legs start to tremble uncontrollably does he finally pull back.

His lips are slick and swollen, jaw damp, hair messy from where you’ve been gripping it. And he looks wrecked — eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide, like just being between your thighs has undone something in him.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then drags his lips slowly up your inner thigh, leaving lazy kisses in his wake.

You’re still catching your breath, staring at the ceiling like your soul just left your body, when he plants a final kiss on the inside of your knee and murmurs, “Yeah. I’m never ghosting you again.”

You let out a breathless laugh, too blissed out to be mad. “You better not.”

“After that?” he says, crawling back up your body, slow and unhurried. “I’d be clinically insane.”

He settles over you again, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, then another between your breasts, then finally your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, and when he groans against your lips, it sends a fresh jolt of heat straight through you.

His body is flush against yours, his clothed cock thick and heavy where it presses against your thigh. You let your hands trail down his chest slowly to tug at the denim loops of his jeans.

"Want these off," you mumble against his lips.

He smiles and presses one last kiss to your mouth before he leans back onto his knees. His hands go to his belt, and you watch the way his fingers fumble for just a second.

He gets the buckle undone, then the zipper, the sound louder than it should be in your quiet bedroom. You watch as he shucks them down, boxers and all, and your breath catches slightly at the sight of him — flushed and hard and achingly ready.

“Better?” he asks, voice low.

You nod, breath shallow, and he’s already crawling back over you. The heat of him sinks into your skin as his body settles between your thighs, bare now.

Your legs part without hesitation.

His weight, the press of his chest to yours, the familiar scent of him wrapped in something raw and new — it all hits at once, and your whole body shivers.

He’s warm everywhere. The kind of warmth that soaks into your bones and makes you ache for more.

His hands slide along your arms until they find yours where they’re resting above your head. He threads his fingers through yours and presses them gently into the pillow, pinning you there. His eyes search yours, and you feel the first brush of him between your legs, just the tip, teasing the edge of you.

He doesn’t move yet. Just rests there, eyes locked on yours.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice low and thick, like he’s hanging on by a thread.

You don’t answer — not with words. You just tilt your hips up, welcoming him in with nothing but a look.

He pushes in slow — painfully slow — each inch dragging fire across your nerves as your body stretches to take him. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, your fingers clenching around his. When he’s fully buried inside you, he stills completely.

“Fuck,” he breathes, forehead dropping to yours. “You feel… unreal.”

You can’t speak — your body’s too full, too wrecked already — so you kiss him instead. Slow and sweet and a little desperate. Your hips rock up, seeking more.

He groans into your mouth, finally starting to move, and every thrust is so fucking deep. It’s not rushed or frantic. It’s him savouring you, like he wants to remember how this feels with every part of himself.

His hands stay tight around yours, anchoring you both to the bed, to each other.

The rhythm builds, a slow burn that spreads everywhere, and between kisses you catch the way he looks at you — like he’s seeing something he’s afraid to lose. Like there’s something he wants to say but can’t yet.

“You were supposed to beg,” you manage to murmur against his mouth, breathless. “Grovel a little.”

That crooked smile curls against your lips. “My bad, baby,” he murmurs. “You can make me beg next time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re gonna regret that.”

He shifts his hips, thrusting deeper, and your breath leaves you in a ragged gasp.

“You promise?”

The challenge in his voice is smug, but his eyes are dark and glassy, his control hanging by a thread. You whimper in response, thighs tightening around his waist, and he dips his head to your throat, dragging his lips along your pulse like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

He starts to move with more purpose now, making you feel every second of it. His cock grinds into that spot that makes your vision blur, and your whole body tenses, fingers squeezing his like a lifeline.

The moan you let out is shameless, high and wrecked, when he tilts his hips just right — again and again, like he’s carving his name into your body from the inside.

“Right there?” he murmurs, already knowing. His hand slips between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with the kind of confidence that only comes from knowing you — every reaction, every sound. “God, you’re so fucking wet. You always get like this for me?”

“Koo—” His name slips out broken, a warning and a plea wrapped in one.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice ragged, forehead pressed to yours. His thrusts get rougher now, faster, the rhythm losing polish but gaining intensity. “Let me have you, baby. Come again for me.”

The words send a bolt of heat straight to your core, your whole body winding tight. His mouth crashes against yours before you can respond, tongue tangling with yours, greedy and open and honest in all the ways his words still aren’t.

When he pulls back, he’s panting, “You feel like heaven, fuck.”

You can’t even process it — not now, not when his rhythm stutters and his hips slam harder, each thrust jolting a cry from your throat. Your legs are trembling, your grip bruising where it clings to him, and you can feel the knot in your stomach tighening.

“That’s it,” he groans, watching your face like it’s the only thing that matters. “Let go for me. Let me feel you.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, teeth catching on his skin as your orgasm crashes over you. Your body locks up, thighs clenching, and you cry out his name. His hand squeezes yours back, holding you through it.

Your walls grip him tight, and he groans loud against your skin, hips faltering. “Fuck— shit—”

He thrusts once more before spilling into you with a broken sound, voice rasping your name like a prayer.

His whole body shudders as he comes, arms locked tight around you like he needs you to stay exactly where you are — here, under him, around him, real. His forehead drops to your shoulder, damp curls brushing your skin as he exhales, long and shaky.

Neither of you move right away. The air between you is thick with heat and breath and a comforting silence.

Eventually though, he shifts just enough to press a kiss to your collarbone. Then another, softer.

His hand slides along your waist, fingertips brushing lazy patterns into your skin. You hum under your breath — not a word, just a sound — and he responds by kissing your shoulder again.

Your legs are still tangled together. His body still half-draped over yours. There’s a mess between your thighs and sweat clinging to your skin, and you should probably say something, anything — but there’s something sweet about the silence now. It’s soft. Unspoken. Peaceful, in a weirdly intimate way.

He shifts again, easing out of you with a quiet groan, and you wince a little at the loss.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, running a hand gently over your thigh like an apology.

“It’s fine,” you breathe, eyes closed, chest still rising and falling too fast.

He doesn’t go far. Just rolls to the side, still close enough that his leg stays pressed against yours, and reaches for the blanket to pull it up over you both. He tugs you into his chest like second nature, burying his nose in your hair, his hand stroking absently up and down your arm.

“You good?” he asks softly, lips brushing your temple.

“Yeah,” you say, quieter now. “You?”

He pauses. Then he nods against your skin. “Yeah. More than.”

You lay there like that for a while, heartbeats evening out. He’s still drawing shapes on your skin — fingertips slow, mindless — and you smile to yourself, warmth blooming low in your stomach.

“So,” you murmur eventually, voice still hoarse. “What now? We high-five and call it a night?”

He huffs a laugh into your hair. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a high-five.”

You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder. “Cocky.”

“Confident,” he corrects, grinning. “But really—” He shifts a little so he can see your face, one hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “If we’re doing this, I wanna do it right.”

You blink, caught off-guard by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “Do what right?”

He raises an eyebrow, like it should be obvious. “Us.”

There’s a pause. You look at him, and he looks at you, and it’s terrifying and sweet all at once.

“I really like you,” he says, quieter this time. “And I’m not just saying that because I just got laid.” He cracks a small smile. “Though, to be fair, that was mind-blowing.”

You snort. “So humble.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your nose with his. “I’ll take you out. I’ll plan dumb dates. I’ll be obnoxiously charming and show up with flowers. I’ll be— like— a gentleman, or whatever.”

You give him a look. “You should’ve done all that before you fucked me.”

His grin spreads. “Yeah, well. Guess I got the order wrong. You gonna hold that against me?”

“Maybe,” you say, lips twitching.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, fingers brushing your cheek. “You’ll see. I’ll be so romantic it’ll make you want to punch me.”

“I already want to punch you.”

“And yet,” he says smugly, pulling you closer, “you’re still in my bed.”

“This is my bed, dumbass.”

He pauses. “Okay, fair. But I am naked in it. With you.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face won’t go away. His arm tightens around your waist, and you let yourself relax into it — into him. For once, it doesn’t feel like something to second-guess.

He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

You tuck your face into his neck and sigh. “You better bring the good flowers. Like the ones that don’t die in two days.”

“Oh, so now you’re picky?”

“You said dates and flowers. I’m holding you to it.”

“Noted,” he says, fingers threading into your hair. “I’m gonna be so disgustingly good to you.”

You laugh softly into his skin.

And he just holds you tighter.

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[heesdreamer]

Wishful Thinking

PAIRING ➩ jungkook x reader

WC ➩ 20k

SUMMARY ➩ Born and raised in the busy city, you are in for a major life shift when you’re sent to the country side. You imagine the farmers son won’t be much help. (nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter)

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Marking this as my official leave from retirement. This is the first work since Skin on Skin I feel a genuine connection too and I can proudly say I love it a lot. I hope you like it as much as me! Please check out the playlist and listen as you read if you'd like

Growing up in the city had influenced a few factors of your core development and the way you went about life. You took a second to open up to strangers, had faster reflexes than most people you’d met from other places and could ignore the sound of a horn two feet from your ear. 

What it hadn’t done is making you a spoiled and sheltered brat, although you imagined your father would place some strong disagreement on that statement. 

It absolutely had not made you the type of person that was so ‘out of control’ you needed to be sent to the middle of absolute nowhere to learn a thing or two about respect and taking care of things other than yourself.

This was not an issue you had and you could not fathom the fact you had been in the car for six hours now heading towards your new summer hell. You were in your early twenties and you should have slammed the door in your fathers face when you opened it to his scowl but sadly, his name was on the lease and he probably would have had the door  removed.

Instead you had packed two bags, said bye to your precious cats and dragged your feet all the way to the car.

You imagined your fathers vehicle had never seen so much dirt in its life and even he seemed a bit bothered by the gravel roads that left a cloud of dust all over his doors and windows. Your father had been raised almost exactly the same as you so it felt a bit ironic and hypocritical.

It was not your fault he was a wealthy businessman, stationing his small family in the bustling streets of the city instead of a nice sized home somewhere. Your idea of dinner around the table was grabbing a bite to eat at the local pizza place, your fridge covered in project plans and work reminders instead of toddler art and positive report cards.

Your dad had raised you in a cold apartment suited for a bachelor, leaving you to get your fatherly advice from doormen and paying cleaning ladies extra to change your diapers. He was somehow still surprised to see you standing with a glare on your face as you exited the car and stared at the farm house. 

“Atleast try to be pleasant.” He mumbled under his breath, the familiar expression he had whenever he felt embarrassed by you creeping up on his face. You had seen it your entire life, when you stood too slouched in front of a client or stuttered giving a speech at a company dinner. 

You sent him a stronger dirty look that easily slid off your face when the door opened. 

Despite what he may think, you actually were not a terrible person and you had no intentions of disrespecting the home owners even though you would rather eat the horses hay than have to stay here.

It was actually a beautiful home, grand in size with a large wraparound porch and land full of crops and various sized barns and pens. 

There had been a faint memory of coming here a handful of times when you were younger, listening to your father take a gentle and relaxed tone you had only heard a few times and playing with the farmers boy that was around your age.

That had been a lifetime ago and while the landscape was relatively nostalgic and familiar, you had changed so drastically that you couldn’t feel more out of place if you tried. 

You watched as the large bearded man approached your father, pulling him into a tight hug unlike his friends back home who would greet him with a firm handshake. This man clearly did not care about your fathers hesitance to embrace him, the rim of his cowboy hat knocking your fathers thin framed glasses slightly askew.

You had a hard time holding in a laugh at his dishevelled appearance after the bear hug and the man's sights set on you right as a smile crept up on your face.

“There she is.” He greeted you like he was an uncle you saw frequently and your eyes widened at the realization he was coming to give you a similarly tight hug, knocking the breath out of you as he nearly lifted you from the ground.

“Sorry honey, we are huggers around here.” You hadn’t even noticed the small woman behind his staggering frame and you caught her gentle eyes in your gaze right before she pulled you in for a much softer hug. “Except for my son sadly. He didn’t quite inherit that trait I suppose.”

The boy hadn’t left the porch, a few feet behind his parents as he stared at you and your father with an expression that was much colder than his warm parents held. You could tell he had already built some bias around your visit and you didn’t mind considering you had done the same, defenses building at his sour look.

“I’m sorry but I..” You trailed off awkwardly as you glanced between the bubbly couple, hoping they could understand so you didn’t have to tell them vocally that you had no idea who they were. The woman's face dropped just slightly but the farmer gave you a soft smile as he cupped your arm.

“That’s alright honey.” His gentle tone almost made you want to turn around and jump head first into the car, creeping its way under your skin and making you feel like that little girl that used to sneak branches in her room to use as a christmas tree. “It’s been lifetimes since we got to see you.”

His gaze fell over your shoulder towards your father with that statement and you almost thought it sounded hostile, or however hostile somebody so warm could manage. Your fathers throat clearing behind you confirmed your belief and you looked down at your feet as you were ushered inside. 

You learned from listening in on the conversation silently that he was in fact a bit upset with your father. The man, Minchul apparently as you heard his wife softly calling him, had made a handful of comments about missing out on your life that he was attempting to disguise as jokes.

You had watched enough tense conversations with businessmen to be pretty good at picking up on what people actually wanted to say. Your father responded each time with a different excuse about being busy but you knew he wished he could tell the farmer that he simply outgrew him and whatever this dynamic was.

The woman had told you softly that her name was Nari and you watched as she barely sat down, bouncing between the table and the kitchen whenever she noticed somebody was running low on their drink or the finger foods she had prepared. 

Her tending to you all didn’t feel like the panicked way your fathers cooks would try to keep him pleased and calm but rather like she enjoyed taking care of the people around her, eyes bright whenever you thanked her or took a bite of something she had made.

“Jungkook will be helping her with her chores and duties.” Minchul’s low voice was bringing you back to the conversation, interest spiked as you realized they were discussing your stay there. 

You had very little information about how long you would be here or what exactly you were meant to accomplish but your eyes shifted over to the son at the mention of his name, sitting across from you and also not having spoken a word. 

He was staring at his father as he spoke, gaze unwavering and still as cold as it had been outside. You had realized outside that he was the same boy you had played with when you were a kid but he had clearly changed as much as you had because he no longer had an ounce of welcoming energy to him.

“If she gives you any trouble son, feel free to call me.” Your father was speaking directly to him like you weren’t even there and Jungkook’s jaw shifted at the use of the word ‘son’. 

A smile almost crept back up at the interesting reaction but it faded as soon as he looked at you, curious like he expected you to say something snobbish in return to your fathers jab. You didn’t have any plans to, used to him warning people about you like you were a walking disaster.

“I’m sure we can manage.” His voice was flat and lacking any real care but you hadn’t figured he would reply at all, let alone with something borderlining disrespectful. 

The rest of the table seemed to agree because the room fell silent at his comment and your dad seemed taken back by the fact Jungkook hadn’t immediately agreed with his implication. You barely moved, not wanting to put yourself on the wrong side of things while he was still here.

“Apologize.” Minchul was speaking the word hushed and you looked at him with widened eyes, not even realizing it had been him speaking considering how cold it came out. It was completely different to the tone he used with the rest of you but Jungkook didn’t seem affected at all.

“I’m sorry sir.” He said it easily, practiced and lacking any real apology. It seemed the phrase alone was all his father wanted to hear because his shoulders lost tension and he awkwardly patted the table as he changed the subject to something about your dads car.

You removed yourself mentally from the conversation again but you caught the way Jungkook’s mom rubbed his shoulder soothingly as she passed him on her back to the kitchen.

----

“You are really just leaving me?” Your voice was icy as you watched your father toss your bags out of his car, squinting his eyes at the dirt it brought into the air and glaring at you like it was your fault. “I don’t even know these people.”

“I do.” He said simply as he closed the trunk and watched you with disappointment swirling in his gaze. You could tell there was a lot he wanted to say to you but as always, he left it plain and gave you a firm nod that you knew put an end to this conversation.

You did nothing but watch as he got into the driver seat and pulled off down the dirt road, headlights disappearing behind the trees and fields of corn. You sighed softly and sunk down on the rocky path way, not really caring if they were watching from the window and judging you.

You didn’t know these people and it was hard to even process that this was really happening to you right now. The sun had fully set when you stopped thinking yourself away and you realized you had been outside for a lot longer than you had meant to be. 

Nobody had come out to get you or even check if you were alright but you figured they were just giving you the space to throw your internal tantrum before inevitably accepting your fate and figuring out what to do from there.

Your sigh turned into a dragged out and low groan as you buried your face in your dusty hands, cringing away when you felt the sting of the debris entering your eyes and realizing you felt like you were going to cry regardless of the pain.

“You sleeping out here?”

You jumped at the sudden voice coming from your right, looking sideways at a pair of dirty and ripped boots before trailing up the tall frame and landing on Jungkook and a raised eyebrow. He had been the last person from the family you expected to come outside to collect you and you groaned again.

“I just need a minute okay?” Your voice came out cold but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about his feelings right now. He was unwillingly participating in your banishment but it was still participation in your eyes and for that alone, you disliked him.

“City girls and their minutes.” It was mumbled under his breath but loud enough for you to hear. You didn’t even warrant it with a reaction, staring numbly at the gravel and willing a loose horse to run him over with your mind. 

He didn’t leave the entire time you sat there and you could feel him staring at your back as you practically curled into a ball. Eventually you stood up calmly, dusted yourself off and headed inside the house.

----

Jungkook had silently left your bags at the foot of your door and disappeared down the hall into what you assumed was his own, soft music coming from behind the peeling wood. You left your door open, feeling awkward in the unfamiliar room like you had somehow broken into this nice family's home and crawled into a random bed.

You barely slept at all the first night and the sound of the roosters screeching only two hours after your eyes actually closed was enough to make you consider hitch hiking back to the city. 

The entire family was downstairs in the kitchen to your dismay and you couldn’t fix your face in time, seeing the concern radiating from Nari as she took in your exhausted eyes and closed off demeanor. You mumbled a morning greeting and shifted onto the seat furthest from them all.

“Did you sleep okay?” She asked softly as she placed a glass of orange juice in front of you and you nodded at her, both of you knowing you were being nice rather than honest. She pursed her lips and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder for a second as reassurance that she understood. 

“Good because you have a long day today.” Minchul sounded as cheerful as yesterday but there was an underlying tone to his voice that made you not want to disobey him. He made pleasant conversation with his wife as you and Jungkook ate silently on the other side of the table.

Jungkook hadn’t even waited for you to finish eating, cleaning off his place and kissing his mom on the side of the head before pushing through the front door. You watched in disbelief as he left you behind, scarfing down the rest of your eggs and rushing after him, nearly tripping down the stairs as you followed him to the largest barn.

The smell was assaulting but you didn’t visually react, not wanting to give him the satisfaction considering he was leaning against a slate of wood and watching you for any signs that you were going to complain.

When you gave him a firm and determined stare he was tossing a silver bucket in your direction, both of you tracking it as it hit the barn floor and bounced a few times.

“Seriously?” You remarked, your first real word of the day being forced out due to disbelief. He didn’t answer and instead entered one of the stalls holding a large cow. “Couldn’t just hand it to me?”

There was no reply again and you sighed as you followed him, scowling when you saw the black and white animal staring at you with a bored expression. Jungkook slid a small stool over to you before leaning back again on the wall of the stall. The cow took a step towards him and you flinched back as its large belly almost pushed you over. 

“Am I supposed to do something with him?” You gestured at the stool and cow in confusion and Jungkook raised an eyebrow. 

“She’s a girl.” He said simply and you gave him an incredulous look, feeling like you were going insane from attempting to communicate with him. “You’re supposed to milk her.”

You stared at him silently for a few seconds, trying to figure out if he was joking or not before glancing at the bucket and realizing he was apparently very serious. You took a breath so deep that it moved your entire body as you tried to calm yourself, ignoring the slightly amused look he grew at the action. 

You hadn’t even sat fully on the stool before he was speaking again.

“Wrong.”

You glared at him and adjusted your position, leaning forward hesitantly to reach out to the cow. 

“Wrong again.”

Another attempt, a different section of the utters that looked as foreign as the rest of the large creature. She shifted like she felt as awkward as you did for touching her and you sighed at his lack of interjection.

“Touch her there and she’ll probably kick you in the face.”

You let out a loud and bitter laugh that made the cow grunt softly, standing from the stool and shoving it in his direction. He watched you quietly as the rage built up inside you, even more so at the indifference on his face.

“If you aren’t even going to attempt to help me, then you go ahead and do it.” You spat as you pointed between him, the bucket, and the cow. He didn’t say anything again and the silence was somehow more annoying than him making small comments towards you. 

He wordlessly moved the stool and you sat down with a huff, at first just picking at your fingers and then deciding to actually watch as he milked the cow. It was slightly interesting, especially considering your current options for entertainment.

His hands were gentle with the animal and she seemed a lot more relaxed now that he was the one near her undercarriage and not some strange girl with tense shoulders and shoes that definitely weren’t made for a barn floor. It was intriguing to you to watch the cows body language change so outwardly. 

Jungkook finished up after some time and you followed him to his next set of chores. This time and the next, he didn’t bother trying to get you to do anything. Instead he did them all easily and allowed you to simply watch as he herded the sheep into their pens, poured disgusting sludge into the trough for the pigs and dragged the stubborn horses back into the gated area. 

By the end of the day, you were exhausted without having done much at all.

He didn’t even seem phased by the fact he had spent the entire day in the sun doing hard physical labor and you sighed as he walked ahead of you back to the house. 

You felt like an invisible shadow following him around all day with little to no conversation between you and it pained you to watch the sun set knowing you had wasted your time and learned nothing but the fact Jungkook was a stubborn asshole.

His dad was waiting on the porch as you approached and you watched as Jungkook’s back hardened at the sight of the kind man. He was smiling largely but it was past his son and towards you, clapping his hands in delight as he took in the dirt on your pants and your sweat dried hair. 

“How was your first day?” He asked warmly as you ascended the steps. Jungkook had slowed down to let you pass and he lingered at the patch of grass near the bottom. “Was he a good teacher?”

The shift in his tone made you glance backwards towards the teacher in question and his flat face showed no sense of what he wanted you to say. You felt like you were hesitating too long and you turned back to Minchul with a soft smile.

“The best. I learned a lot actually.” You said gently and he smiled proudly, a large hand between your shoulder blades as he led you inside for dinner. 

Jungkook was as silent as always but he didn’t look as unimpressed with you when you caught his eyes across the table. There was a beat of nothing before he gave you a small nod, enough for you to understand he appreciated you lying to his dad for him.

Dinner was calm and quiet as you zoned out from exhaustion and you barely flinched when his parents asked you to work together to get the dishes washed and dried quickly. You moved on autopilot to the sink and responded with a light mumble as they wished you both a goodnight. 

Jungkook stood wordlessly next to you, taking each wet dish you handed him as he dried them precisely with a towel. It was quiet through the first half of the sink and then he was clearing his throat with a hint of awkwardness. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” He said in a near whisper. You didn’t even glance at him, handing over another dish casually.

“I didn’t do anything but spare myself the awkwardness of watching you get lectured.” Your tone was flat like it genuinely meant nothing to you but you figured you both knew the reason you had done it. He seemed tense at your answer so you sighed softly. “I know what it’s like to have a dickhead for a father.”

He paused his movements when you said that and you wondered if it was the wrong thing to speak into the quiet kitchen before you heard him laugh softly under his breath. 

It didn’t take a psychologist to realize Jungkook had a different relationship with Minchul than most other people would. His cold and harsh tone towards his son seemed to come out of thin air the second he laid his eyes on the younger man and you felt yourself becoming more nosy than you should be.

Their dirty laundry was none of your business and you hurriedly finished dishes. 

----

The next day's chore list actually seemed a bit more lax and you quickly understood that he must do all of the extremely difficult things at the end of the week. 

Monday was more about maintenance and you felt a little guilty for doing nothing yesterday so you were glad that you could actually help with some smaller stuff, both going stir crazy from doing so little with yourself and also feeling useless the more he sweated and moved around.

You helped sweep loose hay from the stables, collected eggs from under the squawking hens and even assisted him in filling up the water barrels with fresh and clean gallons. You were actually feeling a little satisfied with yourself when the day started to come to a finish and you glanced at him to see what you had to do next.

He surprised you when he pulled two small items out of his jean pockets, fidgeting with them until the lighter was producing a flame that he used to light the rolled up paper. You eyed him curiously as he inhaled around the joint before stretching his hand out towards you without so much of a glance or a word.

“Wow.” You breathed out a mocking laugh as you took it from him, studying it before putting it between your lips and speaking around it. “I am genuinely shocked right now.”

He laughed flatly at your tone and looked at you from the corner of his eye. You were sitting on a small hay bale while he leaned against the large wheel of an old tractor, behind one of the barns a bit further away from the house. 

“It’s rude to make assumptions about people.” He said flatly as he took the joint back but you knew he wasn’t serious, lightheartedly replying to you and only furthering your bewilderment.

“What would your dad say if he knew you were getting me stoned right now?” You were only teasing and you hoped he could tell by the tone in your voice, it seemed like he did because he shrugged his shoulders casually. 

“Less what he would say and more what he would do.”

The statement was heavier than he intended it to be and you both fell silent at the darker implication to his words. He passed it back to you and you watched him for a long moment before hitting it, seeing the way he almost winced at himself for saying something so awkward. 

You let it hang in the air for a few minutes as you listened to the sounds of his inhales paired with the animals in the distance as they got ready for bed. EVentually you were sighing and his eyes went to you, almost in anticipation.

“Good thing I don’t tend to make a habit of reporting back to fathers.” You lifted your shoulders like it was a simple thing to say and his face flashed with something heavier again. 

You’d smoked weed before a few times but Jungkook either had some especially strong country grown shit or your tolerance had significantly diminished because you somehow ended up in one of the sheep fields, both flat on your backs as you looked up at the stars.

For once you appreciated the fact he didn’t talk much because you felt a bit ridiculously emotional at the sight of them all. A childhood of light polluted skies had robbed you of star gazing and pointing out made up planets so it was overwhelming to see so many of them above you. 

Jungkook seemed to be thinking similarly despite growing up under this sky, his mouth parted a bit in awe every time you glanced over at his side profile a few feet away from you.

“I get why you guys like it out here now I think.” You said wistfully, voice a little breathier than you realized it was when it was escaping you. He laughed a little at the sudden declaration and it didn’t seem as mocking as it had a few hours ago. 

“Thought it would take longer to whip you into shape.” He joked back, voice a little higher than normal and you figured it was the high having settled in that was making him more comfortable to engage in conversation with you. “Some sweeping and a view was all you needed to appreciate the simple life?”

He was clearly messing with you and almost mocking your fathers reasoning for sending you here but you felt a light sting deep in your chest. 

Jungkook was not the reason for it but he was the accidental messenger of the rhetoric your father had been spewing at you since nearly middle school. He couldn’t fathom a world where you cared about things or paid attention to people other than yourself.

It felt impossibly suffocating to argue with somebody who had a different reality in their head, left wondering how would you begin to correct a version of yourself that didn’t exist? 

There were no number of saved movie tickets and sentimental souvenirs, no hours spent making your friends a sloppy birthday cake instead of buying them something store prepared, and no amount of love and empathy in your heart that could convince him you were a thoughtful person. 

“There's nothing simple about this.” You ignored your heavier feelings as you raised a limp hand to gesture to the endless sky.

“I’m sure the city has its own views.” He retorted and you turned your head to the side when you noticed a hint of longing in his voice. He stiffened like he could feel you staring but didn’t look at you, eyes a bit more shifty. 

“Breathtaking ones. I never get used to it.” You said back softly, wondering if that was something he wanted to hear or if it would fuel the fire to his apparent inner conflict. You were left wondering because he didn’t reply to you. 

The silence didn’t last as long as usual, the intoxication in your lungs making you both a little less awkward and a little more lax when it came to unraveling useless information. He told you about the town's small population and how everyone he passed had probably changed his diapers at some point and you ranted about your cats back home and how guilty you felt for leaving them alone.

“Why didn’t you bring them here?” He said like it was an obvious option, maybe too high to remember that you weren’t exactly on a purposeful vacation. Your silence seemed to remind him of this fact and he kissed his teeth in realization. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

“Your parents?” You said in confusion, rolling over onto your side in the grass so you could face him and groaning softly at the tightness in your back. He glanced at you and nodded, still laying flat and staring at the sky in between looks. “I don’t have anyone who would bring them here for me.”

Your voice barely held any bitterness, it was just the truth. It was a pretty big favor to ask even to somebody you would consider a friend and you didn’t even really have any of those anyways. 

“Assuming you don’t know how to drive a stick.” He said thoughtfully and you shook your head with a light eye roll at his subtle jab. “I can take you.”

“What?” You sat up and he did the same, although avoiding looking at you head on. “Why would you do that?”

He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal he just offered to drive you twelve hours round trip just to bring your two cats all the way back here. He glanced back towards the house, the warm glow of the porch lights small considering how far out you were, and then back up towards the never ending sky full of stars. 

“Gives me a break from chores.” He said noncommittally like he was offering to do a load of laundry for you. 

You woke up the next morning with a soft knock on the guest bedroom door, opening it to see Jungkook leaning against the side of it with truck keys dangling around his finger. He gave them a little spin when he saw your eyes widen in surprise that he parents had actually agreed to the request he had made this morning after your conversation in the field.

You nod your head in understanding and close the door so you can hurriedly get ready, feeling a bit amused at the fact you’d been arguing only a few hours ago. Jungkook is silent when you find him in the living room and as he shows you to the truck, excitedly climbing into the passenger seat and waving goodbye to Nari who stands on the porch with a concerned look as she clutches a dish towel to her chest.

It felt beyond ridiculous that you were making this trip with somebody you barely knew and even worse, barely got along with.

He was silent for almost the entire first half of the drive, playing music from a rotating stack of CD’s and cursing under his breath whenever the truck made a particularly loud noise. It was comforting to feel the rumble underneath you as he shifted gears and passed miles and miles of barren farmland. 

You had only been there for a couple days and you were already craving new scenery, eyes widening with excitement when you could vaguely make out the city skyline in the distance. You were still probably an hour out but it was undeniable the way your blood felt warmer. 

“Do you see it?” You asked him excitedly, breaking the bubble of silence. You looked at him as you sat up but you didn’t need to hear his answer out loud, seeing it on his face as soon as you saw his expression.

His eyes were bright with awe and interest as you approached the tall skyscrapers and dizzying highways, traffic seemingly coming from every direction as he went from leaning forward to try and see the tops of buildings past the windshield and focusing on not missing the exits you rushed out with poor directional skills. 

“It’s bigger than I thought.” He eventually said and it came out in one singular breath that made you smile, understanding the feeling all too well. 

You let him take it all in so he didn’t get too distracted trying to navigate the busy and tight streets with hsi truck that stood out clearly compared to most of the more compact and practical vehicles around you. 

You eventually managed to make your way to your apartment and he looked slightly surprised as he exited the driver seat and looked up at the building. He had heard stories of your dads lavish lifestyle so he clearly hadn’t been expecting the exposed brick and dirty windows of your building. 

It was hard not to laugh at his expression, shaking your head and walking past him. You felt giddy knowing you would get to be home even if it was temporary and you could hear your cats meowing behind the door before you even pushed it open.

You greeted them enthusiastically as Jungkook closed the door behind you, eyes scanning around your small and homey apartment. 

“Not exactly the penthouse suite.” He muttered and you glared at him from where you were crouching by your cats on the floor. 

“Must to his dismay.” You didn’t need to say you were talking about your father for him to understand what you meant. “He won’t even step foot in this place.” 

It felt especially ridiculous considering how nice and welcoming your apartment was. The walls were full of pictures of your friends and cats, postcards from random beachy cities covering your fridge door and mismatched furniture.

You had decided as soon as you moved in that you would make your place the polar opposite of the studio apartment you were raised in, trading in cold tile and sterile feeling lights for warm toned lamps and fuzzy rugs to comfort your feet. 

“Do you need anything?” Your voice was softer than he had heard it before and Jungkook shook his head as he kicked his shoes off. You watched him quizzically before he gestured towards your clock on the wall. 

“Might as well stay here tonight.” He said simply and your heart lurched at the idea of getting to sleep in your own bed. “I’m fine now but reckon I’d be exhausted halfway through the drive back.”

You weren’t even slightly planning to argue with that or question what his parents reaction would be, quickly standing to your feet to prepare something for him to wear other than his jeans and flannel. He stood there silently as you made him a comfortable bed on the couch, eventually wandering over to stare out your large living room window.

“Breathtaking right?” You spoke from behind him and he jumped a bit before nodding and glancing back at you.

“Yeah it’s beautiful.” He watched you for a few seconds before turning back to study the city and its seemingly never ending skyline. 

Jungkook must have been more tired than he let on because he was asleep almost as soon as he laid down on your couch and you took a few hours to enjoy your space for the last time in a while, preparing your cats and their things both for travel and for extended stay.

It warmed your heart to picture them with so much space to run around, basking in the sun and chasing field mice while you did your chores. Jungkook was clearly being generous with his offer to take you but he really had no idea just how much it meant to you to have them with you in such an unfamiliar place. 

He was just as quiet the next morning and as you brought your cat carriers and extra bags down to the truck but the ride back was a lot warmer and you felt ages less sour as you approached the town this time around. The hushed conversations between you felt smoother as you lost some of the awkwardness. 

His father was sitting on the porch when you pulled back up and he enthusiastically greeted your cats in their carriers, Nari rushing out at the sound of your voices to help bring them inside. 

You watched from the doorway as he gave Jungkook a firm nod and placed a hand stiffly on his shoulder. Jungkook pursed his lips at the action of approval and returned the nod with one of his own. 

“Was that good?” You whispered to him as he passed you in the doorway and he let out a large breath that you imagined he had been holding since he left the truck.

“Yeah, I think it was.” He said back and you smiled at him, glad he had not gotten in trouble for trying to help you out. 

The following week felt a lot easier now that you had a large piece of home with you, bed a little warmer with your cats curling up next to you. The chores were brutal and you were miserable half the time the sun was out but you were getting used to the ache of your body and the burn covering your skin. 

Jungkook was still silent most of the day but he was doing things slower and more exaggerated so you could actually learn the few times he noticed you showing interest and paying attention. There were tasks you could do fully on your own now and you found yourself looking forward to when the sun would set and he'd knock on your door softly, an expectant look on his face as he flashed another joint between his fingers.

It was a nice routine for the two of you to wander out to the field near the sheep barn, smoking until the tightness of your bones faded enough for you to giggle into the grass and tell eachother random tidbits about your life. 

“I heard your dad tell mine that you ran away.” Jungkook said gently one night when your conversation started to borderline on serious and you said nothing for a while. 

“At 22 I thought it would just be considered taking a vacation.” Your voice was half humorous and half bitter, the latter side much more apparent in your tone. You sighed so deeply you felt like you were going to melt down into the dirt. “I’ve been further away for much longer, he only noticed this time because one of his clients saw me while traveling.”

“You went alone?” His questions rarely held so much interest and you glanced at him, finding him staring at the stars with his eyebrows furrowed like he hadn't considered that possible.

“I’m always alone.” You shrugged to yourself. “Aren't you?”

You weren’t trying to make a harsh assumption but you’d been there two weeks and not once did Jungkook leave the farm land other than your trip to the city. His parents went off to town a few times a week or to a friend's house for supper but Jungkook stayed throughout it all, never once hearing mention of a friend of his or seeing a photo somewhere in the house.

He shrugged but it was one of those times where you both already knew what his answer would be. His eyes shifted over to you and you watched curiously. 

“Not so much anymore.” He said plainly but you smiled a bit at the implication, knowing it was probably a change for him to have you following behind his trail all day long. Maybe even a welcomed change now that you were getting along finally. ly.

You and Jungkook spent the next week with the exact same routine and now that you were used to most of it, you felt yourself going stir crazy. Little things were always changing, animals needing more help than usual or storms making it so you had to help around the house instead but for the most part everything stayed exactly the same. 

It was a welcomed assignment when Nari softly asked you to take horses into town and pick up a few things. You didn’t ask why you couldn’t just take the truck even though you were beginning to wish you had as you stared at the large creature.

“You know I can’t ride that, right?” You said simply as you shook your head firmly. Jungkook laughed a little at your fearful tone before gesturing at the single saddle he had pulled off of the wall. 

You were confused for a few seconds before realizing he was insinuating you both get on the horse together, your gaze shifting over to him to see him standing by the horse and clearly waiting for you to reach the same conclusion. 

“You’re joking aren’t you?” Your voice shook a little as you squeaked out the question. 

Clearly he wasn’t because Jungkook had easily lifted you up onto the large horse before swinging his leg over and situating himself naturally. You were left sitting behind him, feeling like you were about to throw up and having no choice but to wrap your arms tightly around his middle.

He was laughing at you when you squeezed your grip anytime you took a turn or the horse sped up to cross a road. It felt a bit ridiculous as some cars passed you but you saw more and more horseback people as you got closer to town and almost all of them enthusiastically greeted Jungkook. 

The stories he had told you about knowing everybody here were clearly true because he couldn’t be more liked if he tried.

It didn’t take long to arrive at the market and Jungkook reached a hand up to you so you could slide off the horse, his hands sturdy above your hip so you didn’t land the wrong way. You eyed him as he tied the large animal to a post outside, petting its nose softly and whispering something you didn’t hear.

A whistle behind you made his hands freeze and both of you turned to see an older man sitting outside the market, a bucket full of loose change infront of him and a brown paper bag around a glass bottle sat on his lap. 

“Pretty little thing.” His accent was even heavier due to the slur in his speech and your eyes narrowed as he scanned down your frame. Jungkook’s mother had left some pretty farm dresses and cowgirl boots outside your door a few nights ago and you had been excited to wear them until his eyes were on your bare legs. “Ain’t from around here.”

It was a statement and not a question and you scoffed at him.

“What gave it away?” You said coldly. You knew you still didn’t carry yourself like somebody from the country even when you wore their clothes and did their labor, the lack of a drawl in your voice really not helping you towards fitting in. 

You could feel the presence of Jungkook approaching behind you now that he had gotten the horse situated and you glanced over your shoulder. His face was cold again and he was a lot closer to you than he typically would be, nearly touching your back to his chest. 

“Johnny.” He said simply, addressing the man and making himself known. 

“Oh you’re Jeon’s boy aint you?” He said with an amused smile, looking like he was suddenly reminiscing. Jungkook must have nodded or given him a confirming look because the man was suddenly laughing so hard he was swaying to the side. “Them Jeon’s… are good men.” He pointed at Jungkook as he paused, then laughed loudly again.

You felt yourself reaching back and wrapping your hands around Jungkook’s elbow before you could think about it, going to pull him towards the entrance so you both could leave this conversation and not hear whatever it was he was laughing so hard about. 

The man's eyes flashed with interest when he saw you touching his arm, hugging it to your side in a way that could come across as intimate rather than instinctual. 

“Oh, is this your missus?” He called and you saw an older couple's head turn with annoyance at his loud tone and the outdated phrasing, shaking their heads in disapproval. 

Jungkook’s cheek shifted as he addressed you like that and you sighed at the realization this was going to take you too far off track for you to bother with. You tugged him softly and ignored the obnoxious laughter coming from behind you as you entered the market.

“Just ignore it.” You said softly, not letting go of his arm even when you were deeper into the store. He glanced at you like he was upset you hadn’t let him handle it and that furthered your reasoning for keeping a hold on him. 

“He was disrespectful.” He said plainly, eyes still heated even when you stopped walking and turned to face him. The tips of your boots touched his as you reached into his shirt pocket to pull out the list his mother had given him, catching him stuffing it in there before you mounted the horse. “How can he talk to a woman like that?”

“He was a drunk idiot.” You stated, catching his eye for a second as you stood there before realizing how close you were and taking a step away.

Jungkook still seemed irritated as you shopped, filling a basket full of the ingredients his mom had written in neat handwriting. He took the basket from you when it was more than half full and starting to get a little heavy and you gave him a thankful look. 

It was hard for him to stay annoyed considering the countless older women that stopped to coo at him and ask him how his parents were, remarking on the last time they’d seen him and how tall and handsome he had grown up to be.

This was something you had also noticed, much to your dismay. 

You figured you had been too distracted your first two weeks but your general dislike for your situation and Jungkook himself to realize the devastating fact that he was actually the most attractive person you had been around.

He was now constantly distracting you without even meaning to, tan skin and big eyes so effortlessly lifting things two times your size and controlling stubborn animals. It was a bit ridiculous that somebody with forearms that veiny and strong also looked that good in a stupid cowboy hat. 

Even now, leaning against a fridge as he watched you scan over the list in his washed denim jeans and giant belt buckle. It was something straight out of a cowboy fantasy and you felt like a fool for falling victim to it. 

It didn’t help your new found dilemma that he was also the sweetest person you had ever met now that he was done giving you the silent treatment and glaring everytime you messed something up.

Whether it was natural southern hospitality or his mothers teachings, Jungkook was a well mannered boy down to his core and did not consider opening the door for you or carrying bags for the older women in the store anything other than the bare minimum.

You weren’t surprised that he was so aggravated by the drunk man for eyeing you or calling you his missus, like you were a piece of property because that was just the type of guy Jungkook was. 

“Reckon we are almost done?”

And then there was that.

Your eyes shifted over to him as his voice broke you from your thoughts and you almost outwardly sighed in annoyance with yourself. Never once in your entire life had you considered that a southern accent might bring your heart into your throat but apparently that was just something that happened to you now.

You imagined Jungkook didn’t even think he had an accent let alone realized how heavy it was but the low drawl and phrases he used made you feel like a preteen girl who had just discovered british boy bands for the first time. 

“Yeah pretty much, just…” You trailed off as your eyes landed on a small booth tucked in the back corner of the vendor section.

Jungkook squinted at you before turning around and scoffing a little when he realized what had caught your attention so easily. 

You felt like your feet were magnetically drawn to the rows of pretty farm dresses, lace bandanas and cowgirl hats. Your eyes were wide as you took them all in, already feeling your bank account emptying. The clothes Nari had been bringing you weren’t hideous but they certainly weren’t the most flattering things you had ever worn.

He stood there holding the baskets of groceries while you pointed out everything you wanted to the woman at the booth, smiling happily as you left the store with your arms full. 

“You’re ridiculous.” He said flatly as he shook his head and situated the grocery bags in the saddle bags on each side of the horse. His words lacked any heat and you rolled your eyes as you watched him.

“What I am, is sick of sharing a closet with your mother.” He shot you a look. “No offense.”

A laugh escaped him as he finished, turning to you expectantly. It felt more natural now to step closer to the massive animal and he stared at you as you stood in front of him, making sure you were ready and nodding when you gave him an expectant look.

His hands were back on your hips, confirming to yourself that you were inching into delusional territory when your stomach lit up. He was easily lifting you almost above his head so you could swing your leg over the saddle, further forward than you had been.

You almost scooted back to your place but he was mounting before you could and you quickly realized he had placed you there purposefully, now sat behind you with his thighs on the outside of yours.

“Oh so I’m steering now?” You glanced back at him and he looked amused, taking off his hat and adjusting it before placing it on your head. You squinted at him and his mischievous expression before quickly facing forward when he was kicking his foot and whistling lowly to get the horse to start to move.

“Lucky is good to learn on.” He said simply and you suddenly considered steering you both into a lake when you heard his low voice now behind you and near your ear. “He’s gentle.”

“He’s huge.” You remarked plainly and this time when he breathed out a short laugh you could feel it on the back of your neck.

You rode in pleasant silence and the sun was far less brutal now that it was starting to set, the little bit of shine kept out of your eyes by his hat sitting comfortably on your head. You tried to ignore that flutter in your chest at the fact you were wearing his hat and riding his horse, back pressed to chest even if it was just for safety.

“Does it ever get annoying living in such a small town?” You mused in a calm voice after another group of people waved to Jungkook. “Running into ex girlfriends all the time I bet.”

He didn’t respond right away and you swore you thought you felt him tensing behind you. You glanced over your shoulder at him, hoping to find him wearing an amused expression and instead he was just staring at you blankly.

Your eyebrows furrowed for a long second before you were turning back forward with a mouth parted in understanding.

Suddenly it was awkward and you mentally punched yourself for being the one to bring the uncomfortable air to the conversation. Neither of you said anything and you somehow decided that was worse than whatever was about to come out of your mouth.

“Sorry. There’s nothing wrong with that, you know?” 

“Just stop talking.” He grunted behind you, sounding more pained and embarrassed than angry with you. “It makes it way worse when you say stuff like that.”

You weren’t sure how anything could make it better but you genuinely didn’t think any less of Jungkook for not having a girlfriend before, if anything it felt a bit ridiculous considering what he looked like but you definitely could not say that to him. 

Instead you just fell into a silence that you hoped wasn’t marking the return of your feud. You gave him another apologetic look in the barn after he helped you down and he sighed softly when he saw it, giving you his habitual nod and taking his hat off of your head gently so he could wear it again.

You found yourself unusually bored without the company of Jungkook who had disappeared into his room almost as soon as you got back. 

You ended up sitting on one of the rocking chairs on the porch, your more affectionate cat napping in your lap while the other brushed against the wood arches. You were attempting to write in your journal but your mind was blanking or rather full of other things.

There was genuine guilt inside of you for accidentally making Jungkook feel embarrassed but you weren’t really sure what to do about it, finding him hard to read when it came to certain things. 

It was easy to tell when he was tired of a particularly repetitive chore, when he felt irritated by his dad more than usual, and when he was getting moody because he was hungry but how did you make him feel better about something like this without making him more humiliated when you brought it up again.

The boy in question was interrupting your string of thoughts and half composed apologies when he was bursting through the front door. 

You sat up quickly, eyes wide from the way it slammed against the side of the house and cracked on its old hinges. You were just opening your mouth to ask him what had happened when Minchul was storming out right behind him, his belt in his hand and an expression that made your blood run cold.

“Do it again until it's right.” He was screaming down the porch at Jungkook’s tense back that didn’t stop moving. 

He didn’t seem afraid necessarily but rather furious as he made his way to one of the barns, shoulders squared and barely giving you a glimpse of the glare on his face before he slammed the large door shut and disappeared inside. 

“That damn boy is useless.” Minchul spat to himself and you stared at him with a shocked and fearful glance. He faltered when he noticed you sitting there and sighed softly, body relaxing just enough for you to narrow your gaze. “Sorry you had to see that honey. You think he would know better by now.”

You didn’t dare respond to him, not trusting yourself to hold back from saying something that would get you or Jungkook in any trouble, or any more in his case. Your eyes drifted to the belt in his tight grip and he sighed again before heading back inside. 

Supper was painfully silent and you felt terrible for Nari considering she had spent hours preparing it. 

You made sure to hum softly after every few bites, exaggerating the noise so she would know you found it delicious. She gave you a knowing look across the table and smiled at you, breaking the quiet with a soft question about how you liked the town. 

It was unlike you to speak at the dinner table but the men were clearly abandoning that role for the night so you and her exchanged gentle small talk while you all ate, trying to make the room feel less suffocating. 

You’d understood after the first few nights that it was expected of you and Jungkook to do the dishes so you hugged Nari goodnight and drifted over to the sink.

You didn’t say anything, didn’t ask him if he was okay in fear of making it even worse. His shoulders were still tense like they had been earlier and the look on his face was bugging you, not used to seeing it compared to his usual expressions.

“I’m sorry.” He surprised you by being the first to speak, a low mutter as he took a wet plate from you and dried it off. “He shouldn’t have done that in front of you.”

You wanted to retort that he shouldn't have done it at all but that felt stupid and obvious, something you both already knew and didn’t need to voice. You just shook your head at his apology, not needing to accept one from him.

“You’re a good man Jungkook.” You finally decided to say plainly, not emotion in your voice so he could take the words as simple and true as they were. 

He faltered with his hand in mid air, only a brief second before he was taking another dish.

When you were done washing you leaned against the counter next to you, watching him and waiting for him to finish up. He wasn’t looking at you  but you knew he felt you staring. He sighed when he dried the last one and finally turned towards you.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that princess?” He said with exhaustion lacing his words and although the name was mocking, it still sent a jolt through your body. 

“You know you’re handsome right?” You weren’t trying to flirt with him, especially not with this awkward air from what you had seen. You were just genuinely wondering if he had even noticed, unable to tell by the way he carried himself.

Jungkook stared at you with an unchanging expression, like he was waiting for you to say something else or even laugh at him. 

It wasn’t the first time you noticed the sheer size of him, not exactly the tallest man you’d met but certainly making up for it by the width of his shoulders and the broad muscle on his chest. His father was a naturally large man with a round belly and tall stature but you imagined Jungkook could take him quite easily in terms of strength.

“C’mere.” You baited softly, not moving from the counter and just watching him with an almost expressionless face. He took a few seconds but his feet were eventually moving and he was a few feet closer to you now.

Your hand was on his arm, gentle and tracing as you squeezed it lightly but kept your gaze locked on his face. His body was locked with tension as he looked at you, almost curiously. 

“No girlfriends but..” You faded off when you saw the flash of annoyance pass over his face, not liking that you were bringing this back up again. “Have you ever hooked up with someone?”

The question lingered in the air adn you almost wondered if he was planning on rejecting you. He hadn’t done anything that made you think he was necessarily interested in you the way you were becoming interested in him but you knew you were relatively pretty and he clearly didn’t mind your company, showing it in his own stoic way.

“What’s it matter?” He mumbled back, shifting a step or two closer like he hadn’t realized he was.

His lack of an actual answer inside the response told you what you needed to know and he seemed to understand that considering the way he sighed.

“Do you think I’m judging you?”

Your head had cocked as you said it and he let out a humorless laugh at the earnest way you asked it.

“Aren’t you?” He retorted and it was a bit more heated than his voice had been before, defenses clearly up despite the way your hand was still smoothing over his arm as you had this conversation. “I’m not some loser.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the outburst, wondering when he had drawn that conclusion. It wasn’t that surprising that a southern boy would associate sexual experience with masculinity or social class but you shook your head.

“I already told you what I think of you Jungkook.” You answered back, stopping your hand from rubbing his skin and letting it just rest instead. “I think you’re a good man.” Your tone was gentle and smooth so he didn’t have any reason to think you were making fun of him. “And that you’re handsome.”

Your hand moved to sit on his firm chest and you could feel the way his heart raced underneath your palm, fast and pounding as you stared up at him. Jungkook might genuinely be the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, sun kissed skin and scars littering his body from a lifetime of hard work. 

His features were strong and manly but paired with gentle eyes that watched you quizzically and you were sighing softly without even meaning to. You hoped you weren’t overwhelming him with your sudden forwardness but there was only so much time you could spend watching him think lowly of himself before you longer to inform him of the way others viewed him.

You leaned up on your tippy toes while simultaneously bringing his face down so you could kiss him softly, thumb rubbing his jaw and cheek. 

He only hesitated for a second before he was kissing you back, taking a few steps forward until your back was hitting the counter again but this time with his body pressing against yours. Your mouths moved together eagerly and you made a small noise when his hands were on your hips, yours moving to play with the hairs touching the back of his neck.

His height and size was making you feel crazy as he tugged you against him, his strong arms around you and the thought of how easily he had lifted your entire body earlier made you feel warm as you made out desperately. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat was making you jump away from each other and your eyes were both wide with panic as you saw his mother standing at the bottom of the stairs in her nightgown. Your chest was rising and falling both from the intense make out session and embarrassment. 

“I-“ You squeaked out in an attempt to explain but nothing followed and you almost thought his mom looked amused.

“Goodnight.” She said softly before turning back around like she hadn't seen anything. You’d expected to be sent up to your rooms for the night but clearly she was attempting to meddle by leaving you alone again. 

The tension had popped and you awkwardly looked at Jungkook. 

Jungkook let out a shaky breath as he watched his mom go back upstairs, his heart still beating like a drum in his chest. His cheeks were still flushed red with embarrassment, and he ran a hand sheepishly through his hair as he looked at you with an unreadable expression. 

He took a deep breath and the sound made you feel way worse. You shifted on your feet, not really knowing what to do in this situation. It felt so ridiculous that you couldn’t help yourself from bursting out into soft laughter and he gave you a disbelieving look. 

Your forehead fell against his chest as you laughed softly, eyes squeezed shut from embarrassment. You felt his body shaking slightly as he joined you in your giggle fit and you were glad he wasn’t taking this as seriously as you feared he might. 

You could feel his hand in your hair as he brushed it out of your face and your laughter faded off into a warm smile as you looked up at him, rocking onto your tiptoe to press against him in another kiss. It was much sweeter this time, lacking any real heat.

Only until his hands were back on your hips and then you couldn’t stop yourself from parting your lips and pushing deeper, grateful he had understood what you wanted when he pushed you back against the counter and tilted his head with yours. 

It was picking up in pace again and your tongue was moving against his bottom lip, whining softly when he licked against your own and bringing one of your hands back to rub his hard chest.

“You’re a good kisser.” You remarked against his mouth and you could quite literally feel him smirk, the realization making you feel like you were truly going crazy.

“You’re pretty.” He said back in that same monotone voice he always had and you smiled at the now familiar sound of it. His hands tensed against your hips and you quickly got what he wanted, kissing him again with more fever after his compliment towards you. 

You weren’t sure how you went from arguing with him a few weeks ago to making out desperately in his kitchen but it was hard to dislike the change in things when it felt so good, barely able to pull yourself away from him when he was whispering into your mouth that you needed to get some sleep.

He was right and you knew that but he practically had to maneuver you both towards the bedroom hall, stopping to kiss you along the way and laughing when your hands were stubborn in their exploration of his strong arms. 

You’d closed your door and immediately pressed your back against it as you sucked in a deep breath, waiting until you heard his own close down the hall before you were throwing yourself on the bed and screaming into the pillow. 

----

The next morning left you feeling slightly anxious and embarrassed, nervous to face Jungkook with your new development and downright terrified to see his mother.

She was alone in the kitchen when you ventured down and you froze at the bottom of the staircase, considering turning around and booking it back up the stairs until her gentle gaze landed on you and it was too late. 

“C'mon honey, I won’t bite.” She said with amusement lacing her words and your shoulders halfway relaxed. You blushed and walked fully into the room, avoiding the counter she had seen Jungkook pressing you against last night like it was infected. 

“I’m so sorry ma’am. I didn’t mean to disrespect you and your house.” You said quickly with a sigh as you sat on one of the stools, not even planning to address it but unable to stop yourself from feeling foolish. 

She watched you with patient eyes as you spoke it in one breath and then smiled gently. “I haven’t seen my baby smile like that since he was a boy. I know he’s a grown up now and he does what grown ups do.” Your face flushed at the implication and you suddenly wondered if she had already figured this was happening. “I think you’d do him some good.” 

You weren’t sure how to respond to her kind words and you stayed quiet and stiff on the stool.

The floorboard creaking made you turn back to the doorway and you froze even more when you saw Jungkook standing there, his expression alerting you to the fact he had been there longer than you had realized and most likely eavesdropping. 

“Hi.” You instinctively breathed out when you noticed him, ridiculously handsome in the early morning. 

He cleared his throat and entered the kitchen, giving his mother a soft kiss on the cheek as a greeting before placing his hands on the island and looking at you awkwardly. “Hey.”

Nari suddenly decided she had something to do that involved her going out to the chicken coop but you didn’t miss the instigating look she shot him over her shoulder as she left. You almost thought his cheeks were tinged pink as he quickly looked away from her and your lips curled upwards just enough for him to sigh. 

“Listen I-”

“Do you want to do something with me today?” He had cut you off and then froze like he hadn’t even realized you were speaking. 

Your eyes were a little wide as you stared at him, forgetting what you were even trying to tell him, most likely something that would give him the option to pretend the kiss had never happened but you liked his idea a lot better. 

“Something like.. other than chores?” You half teased as you reminded him that you did something with him almost every single day if farm work counted. He was nodding his head swiftly and going between avoiding looking at you directly and staring into your eyes intensely. “Yes Jungkook, I would. That sounds very nice.”

He looked overly relieved that you had agreed and you began to really question his sanity if he actually thought you would reject him after what had happened. 

Jungkook had instructed you that you would need a bathing suit and something comfortable to walk in, not leaving much to the imagination about what he wanted to do but leaving you excited regardless. 

You almost asked him how he had gotten the two of you out of duties but you saw Nari carrying a small bag of hay as you stepped out onto the porch and realized quickly she must have agreed to help out today. 

She was giving you a soft look and you returned it with a small smile and a wave goodbye, hearing the hinges creak behind you as he made his way out of the house and paused next to you to look at his mom as she disappeared back to the nearest barn.

“Ready?” He said softly and you nodded your head at him, glancing to the side and feeling glad to see him smiling subtly. 

The new development between you did not change the fact Jungkook didn’t talk much but it did mean he let you be the one to shuffle through his CD collection until you found something you liked. He actually had a few things you managed to recognize and you put in the back of your mind to request a mixtape of his favorite tracks. 

You preferred the windows down and wind blowing to the cold and sterile AC of your car back in the city, hair in your face and the now familiar scents that the warm air danced through the old truck being things you had grown used to faster than your usual that you had simply tolerated for two decades. 

He was tapping the steering wheel to the music and your eyes scanned over him briefly now that he was distracted. 

He had abandoned his button up flannels for the day in place of a loose shirt that was tucked into his jeans and belt in random places, showcasing his large belt buckle that you had started to think was his signature. 

Clearly you were obvious enough that he caught on to the feeling of you staring because he was sending you a sideways glance that made you laugh. Most guys would probably smirk cockily if they noticed you checking them out like that but Jungkook was certainly not most guys, quickly facing forward again and swallowing hard.

You watched from the side mirror as dust kicked up nearly to your window, feeling him shift gears as he pulled off onto the side of the dirt road. 

There was nothing special about the area he stopped at, a simple stretch of road with trees canopy over the top and giving you a nice break from the sun. You looked at him, curious why he was stopping. 

“Cmon.” He said and his eyes flashed with something bright before he was getting out of the driver's side and gesturing for you to slide across the bench seat of the truck so you could come out his door. 

His hand was reaching out to grab yours, helping you out smoothly and the act made it so you were standing almost as close as you were the night before. He took a few seconds to let his eyes dart over your face before he was stepping back and keeping his hand over yours. 

“It’s through here.” He breathed and you nodded, letting him gently guide you through the trees and brush. 

You could see a faint desired path, dirt in place of grass where people had been stepping and venturing off from the road like you were now. 

Luckily it wasn’t a long walk considering you were not exactly accustomed enough to the outdoor life to enjoy branches in your face but you were glad you had heeded his warning about comfortable shoes. 

You felt his hand squeezing yours as he slowed his pace, leaving you almost stumbling into his back from your lack of paying attention. 

He glanced back at you as you came to a stop beside him, hands wrapping around his arm similarly to the way you had held him at the market. He stepped to the side more so you could see what he was bringing you towards and your mouth parted. 

The quarry was only a little bigger than a pond, surrounded on all sides by trees and tall rock walls that glistened from the water splashed on them by the numerous small waterfalls in various places alongside it. 

The water was a beautiful blue-green shade that looked especially inviting given the heat today and there was a small slope that led to a patch of sand, sporadic bushes of flowers and long hanging vines decorating the empty spaces. 

“Wow.” You breathed out as you stepped out of the tree line, walking along the top of the quarry until you could shuffle your way down the slope towards the beach. 

Jungkook stayed right behind you, silent and squeezing your hand every so often whenever the path got a bit steep. You were grateful considering how little focus you had now that you were presented with such a beautiful sight. 

“Do you like it?” He was asking softly when you made it to the waterline, the area even more breathtaking from down below. Your eyes scanned over the quarry walls around you now and you almost felt emotional. 

You’d never seen anything even remotely similar to this and it was overwhelming you a little bit. It was like an oasis hidden just off the dirty road, untouched by civilization and nurtured by the elements around you. 

“It’s amazing.” You turned to face him and he looked pleased that you were excited, biting the inside of his cheek and nodding as he took off his hat and placed it on a nearby log. 

Your eyebrows raised in question before he was shifting backwards and kicking off his boots, a laugh of disbelief leaving you in a single breath. 

The girlish giggle was leaving you before you could stop it and you didn’t care enough to feel embarrassed about the sound, hurriedly removing your easiest layers before pulling your dress over your head and leaving you in your bathing suit. 

When you emerged from the lacy fabric you were greeted by a shirtless Jungkook and you fully froze, eyes locking on his chest and the full expanse of his tattooed sleeve that you’d been catching glimpses of whenever he wore a shirt. 

You already knew he was strong, easily detectable by his stamina and how much he could move and carry without breaking a sweat. Plus the telling veins lining his forearms that pulses whenever he shifted or gripped something. 

None of these small tidbits could’ve prepared you for the sight of Jeon Jungkook shirtless and you couldn’t even bother to disguise how intensely you were staring at his toned chest and the happy trail wedged between hard ab muscles. 

Jungkook seemed to not even notice the way you were looking at him but that probably had something to do with the fact he was staring at you the same exact way, hair messy from removing your dress that now sat at your feet. 

You imagined at another time it could’ve been heated but instead it was bashful, almost shy as you both came to reality and looked away in sync. Your cheeks felt warm again and you squinted up at the burning sun like it was the cause and not the pull in your stomach. 

It was easier to run towards the water than face him again and he seemed to agree considering you could hear the sound of him entering right behind you. 

The two of you splashed and played for nearly an hour, throwing handfuls of water and filling the echoing quarry with your shrieks and laughter as you did so. Your stomach was aching from how hard you were laughing and your cheeks felt even worse, in the best way possible. 

You’d even begun to wonder if you had ever actually smiled before this exact moment, the happiness rushing through you feeling so foreign. You were completely detached from yourself. 

The wealth of your family name, the cold expressions you both faced daily and learned to force onto yourself and even the heaviness of the city air and its routine were all fading from your mind. Right now you were simply a girl having fun in a beautiful place with a boy that liked you enough to free his day and show it to you. 

Jungkook was either thinking similarly or simply recognizing your melancholy because the play splashing faded into the two of you slowly inching closer and closer in the water until your arms were looped around his neck and his settled warmly on your waist. 

Your eyes were scanning over the parts of his chest that were not under the hazy water, cold fingers lightly tracing over the scars and marks littering his tan skin.

He was simply watching you, eyes on your face and only shifting away briefly whenever you made eye contact. 

“Where'd you get this one?” Your voice was a whisper and it felt like the first time you’d talked in a while, smoothing over a particularly large mark spanning across his left collarbone all the way to his shoulder. 

“Got bucked off Lucky when I was fourteen.” He said in a low voice, referencing the large horse you’d taken into town together. “Landed wrong on the wired fence.”

You nodded softly as he recounted the story, feeling a deeper warmth when you thought about teenage Jungkook and his mishaps as he grew into the practiced country man he was now. His hands squeezed your waist as your hand crept up to his cheek and you shifted closer.

“This one?” Your tone was more hesitant when you saw the look on his face at the touch, already knowing he’d be explaining that especially deep mark next. 

“I was seventeen.” He started off slowly and you watched him, hand moving to cup his cheek and obscure the scar from your vision. His face instinctively pushed against your palm and he sighed. “Accidentally tipped a barrel of feed we were transporting to the neighbors. My dad sent me flying into the wall and I guess there was an old nail or something.” 

It was the first time he had outwardly voiced what you already assumed and although you knew, it didn’t make it any easier to hear him say it.

“Has he always done that?” You whispered and he shook his head. 

“Just when I became a teenager.” He said simply, like it wasn't a big deal to him. It probably wasn’t anymore and you couldn't help but frown softly, feeling worse when his eyes flashed with concern. “Happens less now.”

Another thing you didn’t need to hear out loud to understand. Jungkook was bigger now, stronger and harder to push around even if he allowed it up to a certain point. You had a feeling that he'd never lay a hand on his father to test the theory but you had full confidence he could lay him out if needed and you imagined Minchul had realized something similar.

You felt the words leave you, not exactly sure if that was what he needed anyways. There was nothing you could say that would make it stop and you figured he had thought of any reassuring phrases you would’ve come up with anyways.

There was only one thing that made sense to you and you hoped it was the right choice when you kissed him softly. 

It was so gentle he barely felt it and then you were pulling back and pressing your forehead against his. His gaze was softer now and you could feel the wet droplets from his hair on your skin, his large hand leaving your hip underwater to hold your face and bring you into him again. 

This time there was some heat behind the action, mouths moving together as you wrapped your legs around his middle to be as close as possible. 

Jungkook kissed you deeply, a low noise sounding from his chest when you were tugging softly at his lower lip. It felt like a habit to tangle your tongue with his and you sighed against his mouth, one hand on his jaw with the other resting on his chest as he held you weightlessly in the water. 

“Have I mentioned you’re a good kisser?” You breathed against his mouth and he made a low noise, used to your antics and teasing comments by now. His hands were under your thighs to keep you supported around his waist and you sighed as you fell back into a kiss. 

It felt utterly ridiculous, disbelief still clouding your mind when you felt the butterflies in your stomach and the way your skin felt tingly wherever his hands traced. You had barely felt anything before you got here and suddenly your days were full of satisfying muscle aches and electric glances across the room with a boy who was holding you like he actually managed to care about you. 

You felt like a fool for putting so much weight behind kissing him, behind being somewhere he considered special and laughing like little kids together. 

“I am so happy you are here.”

All of your concerns faded away when he whispered the words against your lips, unable to keep kissing him but loving the way he pecked your mouth a few times before realizing you weren’t responding anymore and looking at you heavily. 

Maybe he could tell it was something you needed to hear because one of his hands left your leg in favor of pushing your wet hair behind your ear, thumb tracing over your swollen lips. 

“You mean that?” You accidentally whispered it and that felt much more vulnerable than you had meant it to come across, not able to stop yourself from seeking confirmation. You’d spent your entire life feeling like you were taking up space, a ghost in crowded conference halls and an investment only worthy of funding. 

Jungkook had nothing to take from you, you had nothing to offer him here in this new version of you that you had barely begun to understand yourself and yet his eyes were soft and genuine as he nodded. 

“I was just going through the motions before you.” He responded right when you needed to hear it most and the rare show of vocalized honesty from him hit harder. You could tell it was difficult for him to say these things out loud without feeling insecure and you appreciated it even more. 

You kissed him eagerly and barely processed the way he was standing out of the water and easily carrying you to the shore, only recognizing your new location when your back touched the warm sand and you gasped softly.

It was swallowed by his mouth as he placed himself over you, holding his weight up with his left arm so he wasn’t exactly pressing against you. He felt even better in this position and your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him down and keeping his mouth moving with yours like it was the only way you could function.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there like that, going between kissing heavily and whispering sweet words to each other that made your chest tighten so much it felt like it was going to explode.

The sun had started to set and you felt slightly chilled in your damp suit, flushing when he noticed your shiver and silently moved to help pull your dress back over your head. He stood from the sand, offering a hand to lift you up and steadying you before finding his discarded shirt. 

It was silent on the way back to the farm but welcomed. You had abandoned the passenger seat in favor of sitting in the middle, laying your head on his shoulder and smiling every time his hand moved from the gear stick to rest on your bare knee. 

He had his left arm out the window as he tapped the top of it occasionally along to the music but he quickly withdrew it when you pulled in the long driveway and saw the porch light still on. It was dark by now but not quite late enough to cause any suspicion, sky a dark blue as the sun fully set. 

You were glad you had enough sense to scoot back into your seat because you passed the scattered trees and could now clearly see Minchul stood on the porch, not at all trying to pretend he wasn’t waiting for you.

Jungkook was tense and his face was dark in a way that pulled a pout onto your face, hoping you didn’t have a sour end to such a beautiful day.

He sighed as he parked the truck and you reached your hand over to grab his, his eyes darting to you quickly like he had forgotten you were sitting there with him. You watched as his shoulders dropped as they lost their tension and he gave you a soft smile and squeezed your hand in his. 

You were both exiting the truck and you gave Minchul a small wave, only slightly surprised that he didn’t return it. He was still keeping up the charming and friendly persona with you but clearly it didn’t matter when his hard gaze was locked on his son. 

“How were the Johnsons?” He said lowly and you knew better than to respond or showcase any confusion on your face even though you had no idea what he was talking about. 

“The Johnsons?” Jungkook’s voice was casual as he walked, barely faltering at the question and not even glancing at his dad as he stepped onto the porch. You stayed on the yard and watched them, breath held as it almost seemed like they were sizing each other up. You weren’t used to seeing any defiance from Jungkook and it worried you. “We were at the Lee’s. Mary said hello.”

He went inside, sending you a glance as he did and you stood there silently.

Minchul scoffed and you saw his jaw clench in annoyance, clearly wanting to test Jungkook and catch him in a lie. Nari and him must have come up with a cover story beforehand about where you two were the entire day, something you stupidly hadn’t even considered. 

His gaze fell on you and while it wasn’t as icy, it still didn’t look thrilled to see you. You were glad you had become so accustomed to having a flat expression because the last thing you wanted was to be the one who fucked it up and got the both of you in trouble.

“Thank you for letting us have some time off.” You said softly, tone as polite as you could manage and he stayed very still for a few more seconds before giving you a small smile and nodding. You stayed there as he turned to head inside, finally letting out the breath you were holding.

----

It was difficult to know Jungkook was so close yet also understanding spending unnecessary time with him could get you in trouble potentially. You knew you were both adults but it was his fathers house and clearly he didn’t have sound reasoning for his hatred towards Jungkook.

As much as you wanted to lounge in his room with him and listen to music, you settled for opening your door and letting it float down the hallway towards you as you journaled.

You were back to chores the next morning like normal and you couldn’t help the shy smile on your face when you saw him in the kitchen. He returned it and you felt his foot nudge against yours when you slid onto the stool beside him, side eyeing him playfully as Nari brought you both a plate of breakfast.

There was a welcomed silence as you ate rather quickly and then you were both slipping out of the house, soft giggles escaping you at the fast way he walked towards the barn. He glanced behind you towards the house and must've determined the coast was clear because he was scooping you off of your feet to get you there quicker.

“You’re insane.” You laughed and slapped against his shoulder as he bridal style carried you into the barn, rounding the corner and setting you down when you were out of sight. 

“Is that a bad thing?” His eyebrow went up and you narrowed your eyes jokingly, a bright smile on your face as you stared up at him. “Maybe I just missed you.”

You still weren’t used to the quiet boy you had grown accustomed to being able to say the most devastating things like he didn’t even realize what they did to you. You sucked in a breath at the statement and it wasn’t long before he was kissing you again.

There seemed to be a mutual addiction to the action now that you’d done it a few times and you were glad you weren’t alone in that, not sure what you would do if he wasn’t so willing to kiss you all the time. 

Kissing you didn’t seem to be the only thing on Jungkook’s mind because it wasn’t long before he had you laid back against a blanket over the hay, making you half wonder if he planned this or if it was just a spontaneous decision. Either way you appreciated the gesture, not sure you could enjoy the way he was kissing down your neck as much if you had scratchy grass poking you back.

“Jungkook.” You gasped his name out when his teeth brushed over your collarbone and his back hardened at the sound for a second before he was humming, low and sensual as he questioned the reason for your call. “More.”

He picked his head up long enough to look into your eyes, scanning over your face with a dark expression you hadn’t quite seen from him. It was similar to the way he looked when he was particularly focused on a hard task but there was something deeper there and you suddenly felt flustered. 

“Tell me what you want.” It was a soft instruction that subtly reminded you he didn’t really know what he was doing.

“Anything, just…” Your hands were in his hair and you kissed him softly as you tried to collect yourself, distracted by the way he was looking at you and the weight of his body on top of yours. “Just you. I just want you.”

That seemed to be enough for him to forget his inexperienced based hesitance because his mouth was back on yours, sloppy and hot in a way that made a shiver go down your spine. His hands moved under your dress, pushing it up so it sat under your ribs and exposed your lower half.

He went back to kissing down your neck and this time he didn’t stop at your dress, skipping your covered section and shifting his body further down so he could have his mouth on your stomach. You sucked in a gasp at the sensation, keeping your hands in his hair to keep yourself grounded under the illusion of some control.

It was a world changing sight to see him down between your legs like that, eyes darting from your lace panties back up to your face to make sure you were feeling okay. You imagined he was being met with a very eager expression on your face, nearly pleading as you took in his messy hair and doe eyes. 

The first press of his lips alongside your inner thigh was almost enough to ruin your life and you whined softly, shifting your knees further apart so he had no issue getting where he needed. 

“Quiet down princess.” The already low drawl of his voice had taken an even deeper tone and you shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut like you were pained at the idea of silence. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful baby.”

He had no idea the way he was wrecking you with the pet names, made even more clear by the way his mouth was on your core through the thin wet fabric of your underwear. Your hips bucked as you made a strangled sound and his hand was shooting up to hold you down, pressing against your stomach and kissing his teeth at you like you were an animal he was trying to settle. 

The instinctive way he attempted to tame you made your head spin, not even realizing how sexy you would find that until he did it. 

“Jungkook.” You were breathing again and shifting your hips upwards, heat surging through you when you realized you weren’t even able to move under his strong hold. He was easily pressing you against the blanket with one hand and one of yours moved from his hair to pull at the waistband of your panties.

He didn’t need you to explain that to him, hurriedly sitting up enough that he could pull them down your thighs and grunting a little when you kicked them away, settling back between your legs and taking a deep breath at the sight of you bare.

“Please.” You pleaded and he looked back up at you.

“You want it baby?” He said lowly, a whole new persona to him you hadn’t even begun to fantasize about and you nodded eagerly, eyes a little glassy. “Want me to taste you?”

You made another high pitched impatient sound and he laughed a little, breath hitting your wet folds making your body tighten for a second. 

He was finally done teasing you and you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet like he requested as soon as his mouth was on you, hands moving to your knees to keep your legs from clamping around his head as he licked against you. 

“Oh fuck.” You whined and he closed his eyes at the taste of you, tongue slow and testing as he explored what areas brought the biggest reaction out from your lips. He was clearly a good kisser in more than one way because you felt like you were going to pass out just from the way his mouth moved, getting more eager the more comfortable he got. 

Your hips rocked forward against his face as much as his grip allowed, searching for friction and finding it when his nose brushed against your sensitive clit. His mouth quickly followed, tongue working your bud and bringing noises out of you that you didn’t even know you were capable of.

“Feels so good.” You mewled and he groaned against you, sending another wave of pleasure and longing through you. 

“It’s good princess?” He was breathing heavier from the lack of oxygen considering he hadn’t taken his mouth off of you since he got down there and you almost laughed at the sound of it. You weren’t sure if he was dirty talking or genuinely looking for reassurance but you nodded eagerly regardless, hands tangling back in his hair and pressing his face back between your legs. 

“Make me cum.” You said the order softly, more of a plea than anything and he took it easily, practically making out with your cunt in his desperation to give you what you wanted. Jungkook was clearly a pleaser and you found it even more stupid nobody had jumped his bones yet, although a possessive flare surging through you every time you remembered you were his first. 

You did a terrible job keeping quiet as he ate you out and you figured the rough way he was squeezing your thighs was meant to be reminders but you ignored him in favor of rolling your hips along with his mouth, biting your lip to keep from outwardly screaming when you realized you were about to cum.

Your grip in his hair tightened almost painfully and your breathing picked up, chest rising and falling in heavy pants as you got closer. Luckily Jungkook knew enough to not stop, pressing his tongue against your hole with his nose nudging your clit and bringing you to release so suddenly you felt dizzy.

“What the fuck?” You felt almost startled by how fast and intensely he made you finish and he slowed down, eyeing you curiously and almost looking like he was smiling. He kissed your thighs a few more times softly before he was coming back up on top of you.

You moaned when he was kissing you out of nowhere, not even slightly disgusted at the idea of tasting yourself and instead eagerly licking into his mouth.

“Wait.” You gasped into it and he barely slowed, only pausing to kiss the corners of your lips and let you speak. “What about you?”

Your hand was inching between your bodies to feel his hard length but you faltered when you felt the wet patch on his pants instead. His body tensed on top of yours and your eyes went back to his face, taking in his embarrassed expression and feeling a million different types of warmth rushing through you suddenly. 

“Fuck.” He said in one breath, eyes shutting tight for a second like he was willing himself to disappear. 

“That might be the hottest thing that has ever happened to me.” You said far too loud for the quiet barn and he looked at you like you were crazy, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks turning pink when he processed the dazed out look returning to your face. “You came in your pants from eating me out? Are you even real?”

He was frozen for a long few seconds with that same expression before he was pushing out a singular disbelieving laugh and resting his head on your shoulder. You giggled as he groaned into your hot skin, hand coming back up to his hair to pet it gently this time.

You didn’t move for a bit, kissing softly until the heat was beginning to feel too intense now that you didn’t have a mind numbing distraction. 

“We have to do our chores.” You whispered against his lips and he sighed softly, knowing you were right. 

He was gentle as he helped you stand up, sitting you back on a wood slate so he could pull your underwear backup and adjust your dress. His hands were smoothing through your hair to help control it, picking loose pieces of grass and straw as you watched his face. 

The barn was quiet as you reached up to cup his face, pulling him in for another kiss and sighing softly when you felt him smiling. 

“What are you doing to me?” You almost groaned as he pulled away again, tugging you off of the wood so you were standing in front of him. You were close enough for your chest to press together and you craned your neck to look up at him. 

“It’s mutual.” He responded easily and you felt like you were really going crazy. 

Luckily he had more sense than you and was backing up a few feet to pop the tension filled bubble and help keep you focused. It was almost impossible to watch him do chores now that you knew what was hidden under his shirt, and became familiar with those grunts in a different context. 

You worked through the day together and kept your shy smiles and loaded glances to as much of a minimum as you could manage. 

Supper was much more pleasant today and you felt like things were starting to really flow nicely around here, your heart feeling content as you and Nari joked around over the meal and the men listened with fond smiles.  

Your gaze went to Jungkook for the hundredth time today and you found him already watching you, eyes bright and a smile on his face that you usually didn’t see at dinner time. He must have felt similarly to you about how good the day was because he didn’t look away, holding your eyes affectionately. 

When you finally blushed and looked away, your line of sight landed on Minchuk and you froze. 

He was staring at you with an expression of understanding, like he had just figured something out. His jaw tensed as he looked towards Jungkook and you felt red hot fear in your chest. 

Jungkook had started conversing calmly with his mother and didn’t seem to notice the expression on either of your faces. 

It wasn’t until your time to do the dishes that you even dared to look at him again, breathing a sigh of relief when he sunk against you for a hug. 

You wrapped your arms tightly around him, stretching on your tiptoes and burying your face in his neck as he circled his against your lower back. The fact it was overly sappy didn’t miss you but you couldn’t really care anymore, longing to be near him after any amount of time. 

“I feel crazy.” His voice was slightly muffled by your hair and you smiled at the sound of it and the warm tone he only seemed to take when he spoke to you. “How did I miss you so bad when you are right here?”

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak without saying something even more ridiculous but he hopes he knows what you mean, what you want to shout into the quiet kitchen. 

No, you aren't crazy. No you're not the only one feeling like this. No you don't understand it either. 

You only see a glimpse of his eyes before you are kissing and you can’t even remember who started it, if you went on your tiptoes or if he bent down to your level to catch you in something so feverish it felt like you had gone a year apart. There was no way of knowing who backed your bodies up against the counter, whose hands explored the other's frame first and who decided completely abandoning the dishes was somehow a good idea.

The only thing you could pinpoint was the exact moment it ended and he was suddenly ripped from you in a way that was so jarring you felt your knees go weak like you were going to collapse without him.

It took you a few seconds to track his body, stumbled across the kitchen like he had gotten thrown. The icy expression on his face made you realize he had been, your eyes darting to Minchul standing only a few feet away with his chest puffed and his eyebrows pulled together in a way that made your mouth part in shock.

“What the hell do you think you are doing boy?” His voice was venomous and he made another move in Jungkook’s direction that had you covering your mouth, lips still wet from kissing him. 

Jungkook didn’t move a muscle, not even slightly flinching or faltering his hardened expression. You wanted to shout at him that now was not the time to challenge his father, not after such a good day and certainly not over you. The look on his face told you that there was no point in trying to diffuse the situation, his shoulders squaring as he shifted his body defensively. 

“Oh.” Minchul looked genuinely surprised under all the rage until a bitter laugh slipped out as he stared at Jungkook mockingly. “You’re tough ain't you. A real man now?”

“Minchul.” You said slowly, taking a step away from the counter and trying to put yourself in their peripheral vision. You had a light amount of hope that seeing you in the room might be enough to humble the angry man and also calm Jungkook down enough to at least hold this off. You had wondered if you should call out for Nari but you decided against it. “We.. we were just-”

“I know what you were doing.” He spat as he turned to look at you and the way he stared at you stole all of the hope from underneath you. It was the exact same way he looked at Jungkook and you knew that any effort he was putting into faking a charming persona was no longer applied to you. 

“Watch it.” Jungkook was speaking for the first time and both of you snapped your gazes over to him.

His voice had never sounded like that and you felt a wave of fear run over you, not towards him necessarily but towards the outcome that would be caused by this level of anger coming from both of them. He clearly had no intention of pushing away his feelings and fauxing respect to get his dad off of his back, combative and aggressive now that you were being spoken down to. 

“Y/N.” Minchul was speaking calm and slow but the way his glare never left Jungkook’s taut frame sent a shiver down your spine and your eyes widened. “Go outside honey.”

“I-” You went to object but he sent you another look that left no room for argument and you turned desperately to Jungkook. He was clenching his jaw and looking pained as he finally looked at you just long enough to give you a confirming nod. His face barely softened but it was noticeable to you, a silent act of reassurance that he would be okay.

You felt beneath yourself as you stumbled outside, not really sure what else to do with your body once you got out there. You got the strange urge to call your father even though he would never help you, even to call your mother who had been dead for most of your life.

Your brain was just searching desperately for solutions and even more so when you heard crashing from inside the house, tears springing to your eyes as you took a few more shaky steps away to try and put some distance between you and the grunts of anger and pain.

The sensible part of your brain noticed a light switching on upstairs as the volume increased, realizing Nari must have woken up and would most likely be rushing down to the kitchen and putting a stop to whatever was happening. 

It was a power you clearly did not have and you felt so overwhelmingly useless.

You felt like you were outside for hours alone like that even though it was only a few breathless minutes before Jungkook was coming outside. He was walking fast and storming right past you, similarly to the way he had been the other week when Minchul brought out the belt on the porch.

“Jungkook.” You called out to him and your hands reached for his arm, heart clenching when you made brief contact before they were slipping off as he refused to stop. You started to chase after him without really thinking about it, needing to speak to him before you exploded. “Wait please.”

He whipped around at the crack in your voice and you faltered when you saw the blood on his lip and redness surrounding his eye and cheek. You were sure there were more marks you’d be able to pinpoint tomorrow and you were suddenly grateful for the moon lighting him up. 

Your hands were coming up to cup his face instinctively as a wounded noise left you and he winced at the feeling of your hands on his injuries. Your mouth was opening and closing as you searched for the words to say, head shaking as you felt like you were about to cry or throw up or both. 

“Did you know?” His voice was hoarse and your eyebrows automatically furrowed in confusion. It was asked softly but he scoffed at your expression and repeated it in a much harsher tone. 

“Know what?” You almost begged, wanting so badly to understand him and be able to help in some way. You took a step closer and he looked pained by the action, your stomach turning at the way he avoided looking directly at you. “Did I know what Jungkook? What happened?”

He was quiet for a long time and you felt like the dirt underneath you was slipping away and finally waking you up from this dream you’d been living in. You half wanted to sink with it and wake up in your warm bed worlds away from here with vague visions of a beautiful cowboy and the other half was clawing at the collapsing ground and pleading for the dirt under your nails to stay until morning. 

“Your dad owns the farm.” He said it so simply like it didn’t take the air out of your lungs and you shook your head, both in denial and confusion on what he was saying. His eyes were cold as he stared at you like he wasn’t sure if you were the enemy or not anymore. “He owns everything. You own everything.”

He emphasized the pronoun like he was trying to make it really clear to you that you played some type of role in this situation and you shifted away from him.

It suddenly made so much more sense to you, the way Minchul and your father interacted like they were forced to and the memories of coming here as a child feeling so foreign and locked away. How kind the Jeon’s had been to you and the pure fury towards you and Jungkook for getting involved, it was all a result of your father placing his polished shoe on another aspect of your life. 

This time it wasn’t an apartment back in the city or your daily schedule, not even your name on the important document that locked you into the family business for life if anything tragic happened to him. Your father had managed to put his greedy hands on something you had deemed untouchable.

Jungkook had created a world for you that didn’t allow the bad stuff to exist, that blocked out every memory you had that was grey and cold. He had brought the sun to you and now you were learning your father had already staked his flag on its surface. 

“What are you talking about?” You didn’t know what else to say and you could feel hot tears on your flamed cheeks now. You had never felt adrenaline like that, pure emotion and panic as your chest started to rise and fall quickly. 

Jungkook was quiet as he watched you like he was conflicted about what to do. Once a particularly rough breath ran through your body he was softening his shoulders and gaze simultaneously, pulling you against his frame as you wracked with a heavy sob. 

You hadn’t had a panic attack in years, since you were a teenager who could barely stand the sight of a crowded crosswalk or a presentation. There was no doubt in your mind that you would not be able to get out of the strong grip of it easily on your own and you sunk against him. 

“I’m sorry.” He breathed and you pushed your face into his chest, muffling the strangled noise that left you. “Of course you didn’t know. I know you didn’t know.”

“I want to go home.” Is what you eventually breathed out even though you realized as soon as you said it that you weren’t sure what you were referring to. The thought of your apartment was only comforting until you remembered he didn’t even exist there and you sunk lower against him.

“We can go there.” He said back hurriedly like he had already considered that as an option. You felt terrible for not being in the state to talk to him properly, to ask him if he was okay and if he could face his father again. “I’ll take you, we can go home.”

You weren’t sure he knew what that meant to you but he was gently lowering you on the stairs and going back inside before you could tell him. His back was tense and you had half a mind to yell out for him to come back, to not go in and to stay with you where you could pretend you could keep him safe.

Instead of sitting there and feeling useless, you stood to your feet and chased after him.

He was already on his way back out and you bumped into each other, a startled sound leaving him as his hands reached out to grab your arms and steady you. You were still breathing heavily and now confused by how quickly he had returned, eyes going over his wide shoulders.

Nari was standing in the middle of the kitchen with a dim look on her face, stealing her of her usual warmth and soft glow. Minchul was nowhere to be seen but you could tell by the damage to the room that it had been a full blown scuffle between the two of them. 

You felt devastated for her, knowing how much love and pride she held for her kitchen and the things she created. There were shattered plates and disarrayed decorations, a large hole in the wall that you had a bad feeling was created by Jungkook’s back. She met your eyes over his frame and you felt relief when she softened slightly at the sight of your swollen eyes and remorseful stare.

“Go on, honey.” She said in a voice so gentle it broke your heart, Jungkook’s hands tightening on your arms at the sound of it. “I’ll be alright here.”

He was shifting and you could hear the sound of the keys in his fingers now, only just feeling the cold metal pressing against your skin. You nodded swiftly at her and gave her one more heavy look that you hoped she would understand despite your lack of words, her smile in return making you believe she had.

Jungkook and you were quick to leave the house and you felt another sob go through you when he spared one last look towards the barn where Lucky and the other horses were most likely asleep for the night, knowing there was no certain timeline he would be able to see them again any time soon. 

He was opening the passenger door for you and making a soft noise with his teeth to get your attention through your devastation, closing it softly once you were sitting on the bench seat. 

You waited until he was sat and finished taking a few deep breaths, until you were squealing out of the driveway and pretending the light wasn't still on upstairs. Only after you were on the dirt road and heading towards uncertainty did you scoot over into the middle seat. 

This time around you weren’t damp from the quarry water and your cheeks were not sore from smiling so hard you felt euphoric. There were no shy glances and no toeing the line between unlikely friends and something more. But there was the feeling of his hand wrapped around your knee like he was scared to forget you were there and the soft kisses you were laying on his bruised face as he drove. 

Going back the same way you came but with your heart full of adoration and something much more real that you were too afraid to name just yet. You felt like your fantasy world was finally mixing into reality and the colors mixing with your cold gray was a lot less jarring knowing he was the one braving it all with you. 

Jungkook released a soft breath when your head landed on his shoulder and you felt the weight of it all go with it.

[arachnidseyesmoved]

─⋅⋆⁺𖤐

YOU AND ME

Damian Wayne x Constantine! Reader

A/N: Previous. Next. Damian and reader go on a date!!! That's all that happens, I swear! w.c: 1.8k

You bow with the rest of the performers on stage as the crowd gives one last show of appreciation. When the curtains fall, you very stealthily scamper towards the dressing rooms, not before catching the sly wink Zatanna throws your way.

Maybe you weren’t being that stealthy.

The door to your dressing room clicks shut and you eye yourself in the vanity mirror, only then realising how nervous the girl in the mirror looks. There’s a lot that can go wrong today and a lot you really want to go right. You fix yourself with a look of determination.

With a little twirl and a poof of smoke, your magicians outfit is swapped with the outfit you spent a rather embarrassing amount of time picking out. Before you can fuss anymore over your reflection, there’s a knock on the door.

That was fast, at least you’re not the only eager one. You take a quick, deep breath before opening the door.

Damian Wayne stands in the doorway, he takes you in while you take him in. He’s dressed much less fancy than the last time you saw him, bomber jacket with a simple but probably unnecessarily expensive t-shirt and loose jeans.

“Are you ready?” You ask, unable to fully hide your excitement. You see just the smidgen of a smile on his face as he answers rather seriously,

“I’m always ready for anything.”

“Ooh, Don’t challenge me, Wayne.”

You pull him into the room and shut the door. After knocking three times on said door, you give him a grin.

“You let me plan this whole thing, remember.”

You open the door and step through into an entirely different place. Damian’s sneakers touch cobblestone road and he squints in the sudden sunlight. He thinks he knows already, given the wide bustling streets and the architecture of the buildings around him, but he asks anyway,

“Where are we?”

You’re all too happy to tell him, winding an arm around his and leading him in a seemingly random direction.

“Turin, Italy. I did a mission here a while ago. That’s what we’re going to see first by the way, some good old spooky occult shit, this city has tons of it.”

He lets you drag him to several such occult sights. He listens while you yap about the differences between demonic and non-demonic cathedrals, how to know if a crypt is cursed and which ghost sightings are obviously real and which are fake. He does it all with an attentive mind, almost like he’s reading a book he really likes and he's trying to burn it into his mind.

Once you're done showing him all the "cool shit", you proudly announce that you also planned some things he'd actually enjoy. He keeps the fact that he was enjoying himself the entire time to himself.

You take him to an art gallery, an archaeological museum and a natural history museum. You listen to him yap all about unconventional painting techniques, which period had the best samurai swords and which fun facts about prehistoric animals are actually true and which are completely wrong. You listen with the ear of someone who’s hearing their new favourite song for the first time.

─⋅⋆⁺.

“I get that, but when a magician asks you for your favourite animal and you say "Anaconda." You should at least be a little ready for her to pull out an anaconda! He almost soiled himself on stage!”

Damian huffs a laugh, easing back against the bench you two found that completely coincidentally (as far as he knows) has a perfect view of the sunset. You sit in easy silence, sharing a cup of caramel ice-cream. He looks more at ease than you’ve ever seen him before and an embarrassing amount of pride blooms in your chest at how well your date turned out to be.

You stare ahead at the horizon and wonder if he’s thinking the same thing you are, the thought sparks a bit of unease. Realising you haven’t said something stupid or irritating in a while, you decide now would be a good time to break the fast.

“Do you think the sunset will be this pretty on our wedding day?”

His lips nudge downwards, not quite a grimace but he eyes your smug grin with much annoyance. He sighs and takes another scoop of ice-cream with his little wooden spoon before saying,

“I hope so.”

The teasing grin disappears from your face, and all you can do is gaze ahead blankly. That’s not what he was supposed to say.

You clear your throat and take a bigger than necessary bite of ice-cream, racking your brain for what the hell to say next. After a few minutes you try again, teasing tone more forced than before.

“Do you think Alfred would walk me down the aisle?”

He doesn’t look at you this time, he just stares ahead at the pinkish-orange sky.

“I'm sure he would if you asked. So would my father. He would be glad that at least one of his sons can commit.”

You look ahead too, wishing you could see the view through his eyes instead.

“I'm sure he'd be proud.”

Damian doesn’t have to ask who you’re thinking about when you say that, so he doesn't.

“Would you invite…her?”

He tilts his head up, genuinely thinking through how that would play out despite how ridiculous this complete hypothetical is.

“I don’t know. I’d want to.”

You nod in understanding. Some things are just too complicated to work out in the end. A twinge of sadness settles before you feel the impulsive urge to turn to a lighter topic.

“Titus would make the perfect flower boy.”

He lets a smile slip onto his face, finally looking back at you. The sun leaves little specs of gold in his eyes and you find yourself openly staring (unbeknownst that he’s making the exact same observation). He takes the cup from your hands and places it beside you on the bench. Taking your hand in his, he leans closer and kisses you gently.

His other hand gently holds your cheek. When you part, he stays close. It feels just like those stupid cheesy movies, like a pretentious romance novel, like a sappy love song. But it feels good, good enough that you hold off on the snarky comment for just a few seconds more.

“You know you’d have to make Jon the best man, right?”

Damian groans, pulling back and closing his eyes, acting as if that's actually something he'll have to do. You laugh and lay your head on his shoulder.

“C’mon, He’d be devastated if you didn’t.”

Damian puts his arm around you, keeping you close.

“Maybe I’ll just lie and tell him Arab weddings don’t have a best man.”

You let out a snort,

“Good luck with that.”

You stay like that until the sun sinks behind the distant mountains, replaced by the orange glow of street lamps. Eventually, you stand from the bench, clearing your throat a bit.

“I know I’ve kept you all day, but do you want to grab dinner?”

He stands from the bench as well, throwing away the little ice-cream cup before casually lacing your hands together.

“Anything for my future wife.”

Your heart almost stops. Your brain stammers and so do your words.

“Don’t- Don’t say that.”

“Say what, beloved?”

He asks, looking down at you with a smirk. You very much do not like being on the other side of this dynamic at all. And you know he knows that, he might just be able to feel the heat from your face!

“Stop that-”

Before you can finish, the world stops, literally. Everything slows to a halt. Crickets stop chirping, the breeze stops blowing, all commotion on the street is silenced. Even Damian is suspended in animation just like everything else. Everything except you and-

You’re looking around already, knowing exactly what this is. He used to do this when you were being belligerent on missions. He'd just stop the entire world to yell at you for being a dumb kid, even if he could only do it for a few precious seconds. Nothing for months and he picks now?

You slide your hand out of Damian’s and step closer to where you can see the yellow portal forming.

“You really have bad fucking timing.”

“Language.”

John Constantine steps out of the portal, hands in the pockets of his coat, cigarette in his mouth.

“I need yer help.”

You couldn’t stop the eyeroll if you tried.

“Obviously.”

Why the hell else would he be here. He sighs and takes in his surroundings, looking anywhere but you.

“What are ya even doing here, sight seeing?”

You step back towards Damian and grab his hand, bringing him out of the time freeze. He looks around, taking in the situation with shocking calmness, his expression turns to understanding when he sees John.

“I'm on a date.”

John looks to you, then at Damian, then back to you. It takes him a minute to understand who Damian is and what that means. The cigarette falls out of his mouth as he sputters like an idiot.

“Yer fucking with me.”

“Language.”

He regains some composure when he notices the way you’re looking at him. As if he just remembered how you two left things. That you might actually not want to see him.

“Look, Love, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't an end of the world kind of thing.”

You feel Damian squeeze your hand a little, a reassuring act, an act of trust. There’s a deep understanding between you but with that comes a lot left unsaid. Left in the grey space of "We both understand this so there’s no need to discuss it really.” or is it that you want to talk about it but don’t know how. Being exceptionally gifted kids with exceptional, world-saving parents and bucket loads of trauma isn't something you just bring up casually.

But Damian understands obligation and responsibility. The need to do what’s necessary.

“Fine.”

John sighs, like he actually thought you wouldn’t say yes for a second. The thought brings you more spiteful pride than you’d like to admit.

“Come along then.”

He simply states, before disappearing into his little portal leaving it open for you to follow. Everything slowly returns to normal pace again, the bustle of the street returns as pedestrians keep on like nothing happened. Lucky bastards.

“I’ll call you…when I’m done.”

He nods his head. He’s taking this very well and you’re not sure how to feel about it. He's trying to be understanding, probably because he knows you'd do the exact same thing for him. You barely have to talk about why you have to go, what you have to do… but that doesn't mean you don't want to.

"Don't make me stitch you up again."

He brings you into a hug. You think briefly on how awkward a hug from Damian would have been just a month ago. The thought makes you smile as you burrow your face in his warm neck, breathing in his distinct scent. You open a magic door for him,

“This’ll take you home. To the manor.”

With that you give him one last long look before following your dad into his portal, going who knows where to face who knows what.

─⋅⋆⁺𖤐

[sirenontheloose]

we really need part 2 to Please Don't Clip This ❤️🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Here it is! I'm lowkey scared I’ll get obsessed and keep going until they start dating or something.

Please Don't Clip This pt.2

pt.1 here

Y/N didn’t go online after that day or the next. She saw the trending tags, the edits, the slowed-down clips of her blinking at Lara’s Instagram like she was being hypnotized, but she didn’t respond. It wasn’t embarrassment, not exactly. She was just... critically offline. So offline, in fact, that she didn’t even know KATSEYE was in South Korea promoting their latest release, Gnarly, while she was busy resting, cleaning, and ignoring the fact that her livestream crush might’ve actually witnessed the full collapse.

She thought it was over and everyone had their share of fun teasing her.

Until Friday night.

Y/N had just finished dance practice. Hair damp from sweat, hoodie slung over one shoulder, she followed the rest of Aespa into a nearby Korean BBQ place. It was one of those regular idol haunts. Casual, private, safe. She didn’t even think twice about it.

Until she sat down.

And saw the face.

The one she was swooning over in front of possibly hundreds of thousands of people.

Sitting at the next table.

With KATSEYE.

There she was, Lara.

Y/N froze mid-sit, hovering awkwardly over the cushion like her knees forgot how to work. Karina noticed first. She looked up, followed Y/N’s line of sight, and let out a quiet but sharp gasp.

"Oh my God. No way. That’s her, isn’t it?"

Y/N sat down so fast she almost knocked over the water pitcher. "No it’s not. I mean, what are you talking about? It could be anyone. Shut up."

Winter leaned across the table with a smug smile. "That’s definitely her. I saw that livestream, remember? We all did. That’s your Instagram crush in 4K."

Ningning giggled. "She’s even prettier in person. Y/N, you’re so cooked."

"I’m begging you all to be normal," Y/N whispered, face heating up. She reached for a menu like it could shield her from the world.

Karina grinned. "You were giggling at her selfies for ten minutes straight. Don’t think we forgot."

Winter nodded. "Should we say hi for you? No? Maybe just a little wave? You should ask for her number," she was practically scream-whispering.

Y/N groaned. "Please stop. I'm shaking."

From the other table, a burst of laughter rang out. Y/N risked a glance.

Lara was laughing at something Dani said, head tilted back slightly, eyes crinkled. Then she turned, just a bit, and made eye contact.

Y/N blinked.

And Lara smiled.

The kind of smile that said, yes, I saw everything.

Y/N turned back around and physically pulled her hood up. "Abort mission. We need to leave."

"You haven’t even ordered," Ningning teased.

"I can survive off air and shame."

Meanwhile, at the other table, the KATSEYE girls were not being subtle.

"She’s so your type," Megan said, poking Lara’s arm.

"She was literally blushing on livestream," Manon added, grinning.

"She looked like she was about to write a love letter," Yoonchae chimed in.

Lara tried to play it cool, swirling her drink with her straw. "You’re all exaggerating."

"We are not," Dani said. "She was gone, she looked like she was planning her future with you while scrolling through your page."

Sophia leaned in. "What are you gonna do?"

Lara glanced over again. Y/N looked like she was actively trying to disappear. Her hood was up. Her chopsticks were shaking. Her friends were giggling mercilessly.

Lara smiled again. "We’ll see."

Back at Aespa’s table, Y/N let out a long, silent scream into her hands.

A few minutes passed. Then footsteps were heard.

Y/N looked up just in time to see Lara approaching, casual but confident, hands in the pockets of her jacket.

And of course, she smelled good. Looked even better. Like someone who walked straight out of a perfume ad, all glowing skin and effortless charm, while Y/N looked like she just finished dumpster diving behind a dance studio.

"Hi," Lara said, stopping by their table. Her voice was calm, a little playful. "Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to say... your livestream was really fun."

Y/N’s soul tried to escape through her hoodie.

Karina choked on her water. Ningning bit her lip to stop from laughing. Winter made the most dramatic gasp of the night.

Y/N blinked up at her, completely frozen. "Oh. Uh. Thanks. It was…yeah. Unexpected."

Lara tilted her head slightly, still smiling. "Well, it made my night. I’ll leave you to your dinner. Just thought I’d say hi."

She gave the table a polite nod, eyes flicking back to Y/N for just a second longer than necessary, and turned to walk back to her group.

Once she was gone, the silence shattered.

"OH MY GOD," Karina hissed.

"She came over and she said hi. She talked to you," Winter whispered.

"Y/N, you’re sweating," Ningning added.

"I’m aware," Y/N muttered, hiding her face in both hands.

This was worse than the livestream.

And somehow, so much better.

[t-a-a-1]

To Fall In Love For A Prime

Summary: Optimus realizes he is falling in love with you.

1.4k words. Optimus x Female Reader

.

.

.

Optimus had an instinct. 

Some instics are more peculiar than others. He noticed that his own actions did not match the rational thoughts in his processor. 

He made sure to be kind to everyone. To treat each individual with respect. 

But he noticed that things were different with you. 

Once, you had mentioned your interest in poetry. The next couple of days, Optimus spent day and night trying to retrieve from Iacon’s old DataNet, poems written by the great authors of Cybertron. He spent more time trying to translate them.

And when he was ready to show you, to recite to you … He couldn’t.

You looked at him with those eyes of yours and his processor stopped working. 

He walked away and till this day he regrets saying anything. 

“Optimus and I … Well, we are not really close. I don’t think he likes me very much.”

Although it was true that he kept a distance, he didn’t think you would wake this negatively. The only reason why he doesn’t speak much to you is because his mind goes completely blank whenever he is near you. Because your eyes shine so brightly that he can’t help but stare at them. He is quiet because nothing he could say could compare to listening to your voice. Optimus much prefers to just listen to you and see your face. Even if it's from afar.

But how can he tell you that?

How can he speak to you when he just can’t?

“Oh, it’s raining a lot,” you say as you try to cover your head. “I am sorry. You probably have better things to do than being here.”

Your car had broken down and Optimus was the first one to come to your rescue. An act you didn’t understand since you thought he disliked you … Just a little. 

It would have been better to wait inside your car but seeing that it was letting out smoke and you didn’t want to explode, you decided to wait outside just in case. 

Optimus is quiet, as he usually is when he is near you. You don’t understand why as he is very much talkative to the rest of the group. 

“You know, if you have more important things to do, you can alway leave–”

Suddenly, the rain doesn’t touch your head anymore. With one servo, Optimus covers your entire body, protecting you. 

You look up at him, your mouth a bit opened.

“Are you … harmed?”

You feel your heart beat faster and suddenly, the need to look away overpower your senses. Flustered, you didn’t understand why all of a sudden your body feels warm. 

“No, I am fine, thank you for asking!”

You say that too loudly and you become more embarrassed by the simple sound of your voice. 

Optimus doesn’t say another word and it keeps raining. A few seconds passed and you take the courage to look at Optimus again.

And he looks at you. 

Blue optics meet your eyes.

And you look away again.

“You know, maybe you can just change to your vehicle form and I can wait inside until the towing truck comes? You know, just so you don’t get caught.”

He did as you said.

And it was the first time he let someone inside his vehicle form. 

It was … a beautiful experience.

Optimus wonders how you were able to trust him so easily. Your small body, surrounded by all of him. He felt your fingers touch the Autobot emblem on the steering wheel. Your soft skin was able to touch every crack, dent and small space that he thought he lacked sensibility. 

Turns out he is just like a big old cat that loves to be pet. 

And in completely quietness, he enjoyed the silence.

You noticed this too. And although you wanted to ask him if he could be the one to pull your car to save you money, you didn’t want to interrupt the peaceful moment.

.

.

.

And as days passed, Optimus began to wonder about other things.

What things did you like? Was your job of your liking? Did you have an interest in anyone?

Would you ever consider a Cybertronian as a romantic partner?

He wants to believe that the reason why that question lingers in his mind is due to mere curiosity.

That has to be it. Why else would it be?

It’s not like he wishes for your affections to be reserved just for him. It’s not like he saw you talking to a co-worker and suddenly felt the need to interrupt and take you away from him. 

Because only he can look at your face and wonder what kind of gods created such delicate art? Only he can wonder why he can’t speak to you when you look at him in the optics. 

Only he can have sleepless nights thinking of what it would be like to have your lips on his intake. 

Not because he was delusional and thought of the possibility of having a human-cybertronian relationship.

It was mere curiosity because humans seemed to have a hyperfixation on interspecies relationships. He knew because of all the human media he had consumed, not because he wanted to relate to something, of course not. It's all pure research. 

That has to be it.

“(Reader) protected the datapad with her life. We are not sure why, she probably thought it was important. But she will be fine.”

It was Optimus’s datapad. 

You lay on the medical berth as Optimus rushed to your side as soon as he heard the news. 

His mind is already punishing him for not being there when the Decepticons attacked you, for not arriving in time, for not doing his job to protect you. 

What a worthless piece of mech he is. 

Unworthy of any type of connection. He should have known. Oh, he should have known from the start. How stupid he was to believe he could ever–

“Optimus,” Ratchet interrupts his thoughts. “Does your datapad contain any classified information?”

“No,” he simply says as he looks down at your body. Delicate, hurt but still breathing. “That datapad just contained … poetry.”

At seeing his friend’s desperate optics on you, he felt as if he was interrupting an intimate moment between the two of you.

“I’ll leave you two alone.”

With that Ratchet left.

Optimus didn’t look at Ratchet leave the medical room, his optics only focused on you. He took the freedom to use one of his metal fingers to touch your hair. He found himself trembling, scared, terrified at the thought … the simple thought that maybe today you wouldn’t be here with him. 

He lets out a glitch sound as his vents exhale in an exasperating way. 

You slowly start to regain consciousness and you are blessed to see Optimus in front of you. Although you wish he looked happier.

“The datapad,” you say in a soft voice. “I am sorry, I am sorry, it broke while I–”

“You have nothing to apologize for, my Spark,” the name came out so naturally from his intake that he didn’t even realize he had said it. “It’s me who should apologize.”

“But you always wrote on that datapad, it was important to you and I–”

“You are important to me,” he says. “The most important individual, my dearest–”

He stops himself, he cannot longer put any burden on you. He’ll be damned if these feelings ever caused you harm again. For Primus, he prefers to die a thousand times if that means all harm from you can be exempted. 

And yet, a very, rotten, selfish part of him, can’t believe that you went to such lengths to protect something you thought was precious to him. When in reality, the thing you should be protecting should be yourself. 

How selfish of him to be happy at this moment. This moment when you are alive and smiling at him. Hurt but your heart is still beating. The relief cannot compare. Having you here, alive, you. 

How selfish–

“Do you wish to know what was in the data pad?” Optimus asks, returning your smile. But in your mind, his smile was the most beautiful of scenes. 

You simply nod.

“I know you enjoy poetry so I wanted to introduce you to some Cybertronian writings,” he says. “Do you want me to recite some pieces to you?”

You smile once again at him. 

“Yes.”

Very softly, Optimus begins to speak. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N: i don’t know where I was going with this but oh whale 🐳 … I have so many drafts …. But I gotta update The Darkest Hour first.

[saudianna]

💥 love is papaya orange ᝰ.ᐟ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ : word count : 1669 👅 ੈ✩‧₊˚ : synopsis : after oscar's first championship win, his ego clashes with you- lando's lifelong best friend—when they're forced to work closely at McLaren. what starts as hate turns into secret tension, messy feelings, and a tangled love triangle that neither oscar nor lando saw coming… until it explodes into something no one can control!! ੈ✩‧₊˚ : featuring : oscar x engineer!reader x lando ੈ✩‧₊˚ : author's note : ahh okay pt 4!! pt 5 soon aka final n um this is set in 2026 ੈ✩‧₊˚ : genre : smut, smut and more smut!! theres some fluff and angst in the midst of it all ੈ✩‧₊˚ : tws : just love triangle in this chap </3 also alot of teasing n oscar being as complete ASS !!!!

part 4. falling into place 🦊

The following day, you didn't really see each other much, but when you did, you could tell the cloud of dislike had lifted off.

"Hi," he said, smiling for the first time, instead of stupid smirks.

"Hey." you responded, a faint smile

"I was thinking about how to pay you back.." he muttered and rubbed the back of his neck, sitting down by the chair in front of your desk, manspreading and looking away nervously.

"Yeah?" you said confused, looking up from your laptop,

"I.. could take you for dinner..? he choked out.

"Oh um- Oscar i dont kno-" you were cut off by a loud cough-

"Platonically! Of course.. or professionally, whichever you prefer.." he looked at you and furrowed his brows as you looked a bit incompetent.

"Ah.. In that case sure, but shouldn't we invite Lando? You know, to make sure the paparazzi don't say we are dating?" you said,

"Oh- i hadn't really though about that. But i wouldn't worry about that.. I can book a very private dinner?" he said nervously, using his signature face, one sided smirk and looking to the side.

"Mmm... Alright. Is Thursday good?" and he nodded,

"Yup," the p popping off his tongue, "Perfect. I can pick you up at 8? Or would you rather me order you an uber?" he offered.

"Uh.. id rather uber myself. Thanks." You cleared your throat. 4 days till your dinner. You didn't really expecting your view of him to change all that much after this dinner, but you were willing to try anyway.

"Oh- Alright," he spoke, "Well I'll see you tomorrow, its home time for me." he turned away.

"Bye," you said clearly.

"Bye."

Over the past couple days, your view did change. He was nicer, politer, you finally saw the version of Oscar everyone raved about. His 'polite cat energy' and honestly even the 'boyfriend material' his fangirls always talked about.

On the day of the dinner, you didn't want to seem like you were trying too hard, but you were going to a very fancy restaurant one reserved by only famous people. Insured that paparazzi would not sneak their way around.

So you ultimately threw on a long black silk dress that hugged your curves, not too tight but didn't exactly leave much to the imagination.

Hair curled and fluffy, eyeliner snatching your eyelids, and lips a dark red.

Your uber was nice enough, comfy and a talkative driver, although a bit inexperienced.

But when you got to the restaurant, you were kind of embarrassed to be riding in an uber, you hoped that people just thought it was fancy, your own personal driver.

As you walked in, searching for the familiar face, but he spotted you before you could spot him, walking over to you and smiling

"Hi, thought you weren't coming for a second there." he laughed

"Yeah... My uber didn't really know his way around, sorry about that." You giggled a bit and he smiled

He looked you up and down, "O-oh and you look really beautiful by the way." he said smiling.

You blushed a bit and laughed nervously. "Ah- thank you.. you look really handsome." he smiled really big and took your arm, "Cmon' our tables over here."

You guys sat down and chatted for a bit before the waiter came to take your drink orders.

"Buonasera, have you made a choice on the drinks?" (good evening)

"I'll have a glass of Amarone please."

"Good choice sir, and for your pretty girlfriend?" the waiter said calmly and Piastri nearly spat out his water.

"Ah- She's not my girlfriend.." he muttered and the waiter looked surpised

"My dearest apologies, i just figured from the way you look at her mister, terribly sorry." and the waiter hung his head for a second.

You coughed, "Ahem um... I'll just get the uhh, ahem.. the Chianti.. please.." you said quietly..

The waiter nodded and said softly to you, but loud enough for the very flustered Australian to hear, "He'll ask one day madam."

Oscar coughed very loudly as he saw you very red in the face, "Please will you just go get our drinks..!"

The waiter walked away and the two of you made eye contact

"I'm sorry about that..." he muttered

"Ah.. its okay osc." he blushed at the nickname.

Over the course of dinner, you got to know each other more, you told him how you knew Lando, and he told you how he got into racing.

When you had finished your meals, you realised he really wasnt that bad. I mean, you really liked him. He was sweet, handsome.. but you couldnt get over the fact he was such a prick when you first met.

At the end of the night as you were laid in bed. He dropped you off instead of ubering, and you gave him a hug before you went inside, his touch lingering a bit too much around your waist, and you leaned into it too much.

But fuck, what were you supposed to do?

And now both McLaren drivers looked at you with a glint in their eye, and both for the same-ish reason, love.

I mean, you weren't sure if either of them were in love, i mean, Lando clearly thought you were hot and wanted you, but you didnt know if he felt the same way, as if you wanted to date, but didn't at the same time, in fear of ruining your 20+ year friendship.

And Oscar, i mean you have spent basically more than half of your time knowing him, hating him. And that wasn't particularly a good start.

But, i mean you liked both, what Oscar lacked in confidence, Lando had. And what Lando lacked in gentleman-ness, Oscar had.

And like... why not both?

The next day felt like static in your brain — fuzzy, unpredictable, uncomfortable. You couldn’t keep stringing Lando along, not when Oscar had actually made you feel something... real. Even if it was barely developing. Even if it was new.

So you told him,

You caught Lando just before the briefing that afternoon, cornered in the hallway with his cap on backwards and his classic cocky smirk — the one you used to love.

"Hey... got a sec?"

"Always," he said, leaning against the wall. That look in his eye again.

You inhaled. “Lando, I need to talk to you seriously.” His smirk faltered.

“This... whatever we’ve been doing—”

“You mean fucking?” he joked, but it was tight, like he already knew.

“Yeah. That. I don’t think we should keep it up. Not anymore.”

His brows furrowed. “Wait, what?”

You swallowed. “I like Oscar.”

The silence hit like a punch in the gut. His eyes flicked away for a second before landing back on you, a little colder.

“You like him?” he said, like it tasted bitter in his mouth.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to.. But I do. And it wouldn’t be fair to you if I pretended I didn’t.”

He scoffed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. Right, okay.” You reached out, but he stepped away. “I just— I thought you and me—”

“I know,” you said softly. “But you deserve more than half of me.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just nodded once, sharp and stiff, before walking away.

Later that evening, Oscar found Lando alone in the driver's lounge, staring at a monitor that wasn’t even turned on.

“Hey,” Oscar said cautiously. “You good?”

“Just fine.” Lando said sarcastically, still not looking at him.

Oscar hesitated, then sat beside him. “She told you?”

Lando’s jaw tensed. “Yeah. She told me.”

Oscar nodded slowly. “I didn’t mean for it to get complicated. I just— I like her. Like really like her.”

Lando scoffed. “Of course you do.”

Oscar frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lando looked at him, fire building in his throat. “It means I’ve been messing around with her for years man. Friends-with-benefits type shit. And now suddenly you get all soft-spoken and polite and she falls for you?”

Oscar blinked. “Wait. You and her—?”

Lando nodded once. “Yeah. We were something. Or at least... it felt like something. Until you came along.”

Oscar’s face fell, stunned silent for a second. “I didn’t know.”

“No shit.”

But then Oscar cleared his throat and looked away, red blooming up his neck. “For what it’s worth… I don’t think I just like her.”

Lando blinked. “The hell does that mean?”

Oscar looked at him — really looked at him. “You. You’ve been in my head too. And I hate it. And I don’t understand it. But it’s there.”

Silence.

Lando stared, like Oscar had just admitted to murder. His breathing slowed. He licked his lips, nervous. “Dude… are you saying you like me?”

Oscar swallowed. “I think I do.”

And then — blame the tension, the jealousy, the months of denial — Lando surged forward and kissed him.

Hard.

Oscar kissed back. They both breathed through it, hands grabbing shirt collars, lips parting, heat rushing in places they hadn’t even acknowledged until now.

It was messy. Rough. A collision of all the confusion and lust they’d buried.

But it didn’t last long.

They pulled away, panting, wide-eyed. And then, in perfect timing—

You walked in.

You froze.

They froze.

You blinked once. Twice. “Okay... what the fuck is happening?”

Oscar jumped up. “Wait, it’s not—”

“I mean, it is,” Lando interrupted, wiping his mouth. “But also… not what it looks like?”

You stared at them, dumbfounded, heart pounding. “So let me get this straight: I regretfully dump you and say that I like him, someone apolgized to someone and then you two decide to just make out instead?”

Neither of them had an answer.

“I— I don’t even know what to say,” you whispered.

Lando looked away. Oscar ran a hand through his hair.

It was silent for way too long.

Then you just burst out laughing. A short, hysterical laugh. “This is so fucking complicated.”

Oscar laughs, "We'll figure it out."

<- previous | part 4 | forwards ->

ੈ✩‧₊˚ : author's note : um so i had my first college exams guys, (im taking mechatronics enginerring!) and i did so well i think, so sorry this took so long, since its holidays for me soon ill be more active. and omg i think this fic is only gonna be 5 chaps.. i wanted in to be 10 but anyway. send me inbox's pls!! i alr finished my first, gonna release it ltr tdy but pls send more xx

[esther-dot]

Inspired by @eatsleepandsing ‘s post here

Ghost isn’t the problem.

It’s Sansa Stark who’s the problem.

You see, for a reticent guy, it’s a little embarrassing to have such an opinionated dog.

Especially one that has decided to supervise Jon’s love life. Not that he doubts Ghost’s judgment, hell, it’s better than his own nine times out of ten. After he ignored Ghost’s feelings about the girl from the bar, and overruled Ghost’s refusal to allow that blonde to cross the threshold, he’d learned his lesson.

No more girls who instigate bar fights no matter how aggressively they’re into you, no more ethereal beauties with worrying pyromaniacal tendencies. No more girls that raise Ghost’s hackles, Jon swears it. He didn’t trust him immediately, mistakes were made, lessons learned.

But Ghost is so damn picky. It’s fine though, Jon’s always been a loner, and now he has a great group of friends so he’s never lonely, it’s just, well, Ghost was becoming embarrassing in an entirely new way. And Jon isn’t sure what to do.

Ghost likes Sam and Gilly which means they get a tail wag before he retires to his couch. He’s fine with Robb, just fine which means a sniff. Disinterested in Bran and Arya, barely even lifts his head. Tries to avoid Rickon ever since the kid tried to ride him that one time.

So yeah, it’s Sansa Stark who’s the problem.

She’d been living down South for college, but now she’s back and part of the social group so she’s always around and Ghost has been an absolute menace since the first time he saw her. At first Ghost snores away on his couch as everyone troops in. They’re watching the game in Jon’s basement, so everyone has an offering of beer, chips and dip, and Gilly brought ribs. Last in line is Sansa with a lemon desert (of course), and just as she’s apologizing for imposing and offering Jon the lemon meringue pie, Ghost intervenes.

Sansa’s eyes widen at the comically large dog approaching her, and isn’t entirely reassured by Jon’s words, “Don’t worry. He’s used to your family. He’ll sniff and then go back to his—“

Well, she shouldn’t be comforted because Ghost makes him a liar. Yes, he sniffs her, he then rubs his head against her hip. It’s there, right at that moment Jon realizes Ghost being so attuned to what Jon wants even before he recognizes it himself might be a problem.

Don’t worry, it gets worse.

Ghost looks pleadingly up into Sansa’s eyes, and licks her hand. Not once, mind you, he just keeps going.

Sansa laughs, a bit discomforted, she is clearly not much of a dog person, or at least, not totally at ease with ones the size of a small horse who are overly friendly. But she’s gracious, and poised, and although Ghost follows her around the rest of the afternoon and lays on her feet, not near, on them, she is unfailingly kind about it. Apparently it wins her over because by the time she’s waving farewell to the dog and saying “bye, bye” to the monster in a high-pitched voice.

This is so, so much worse than Ghost wanting Jon to dump a girl. Ghost is sad when Sansa leaves. He watches her car until it turns at the stop sign and is finally out of sight. Each time someone drops in he stares at the door until it opens and gives a great big sigh before returning to his couch when it isn’t her.

It’s been going on for weeks and is only getting more out of hand, and all Jon can do is brace himself for the next time Ghost sees Sansa and smother her with unwanted attention. Jon would never make that mistake himself, he is very careful where his eyes rest and where they don’t, and when he hugs Sansa hello or goodbye he doesn’t linger. He doesn’t sigh over her the way Ghost does, he has way more self-control. Sansa hasn’t become his constant preoccupation. Lemon has always been his favorite desert flavor, he too has always enjoyed listening to show tunes, and picking up Shakespeare for the first time since high school is because he has always liked Romeo & Juliet, not because Sansa mentioned teaching it this semester. It’s Ghost who is embarrassing. Jon is entirely calm about becoming reacquainted with Sansa Stark, thank you very much.

He has nearly convinced himself it will be fine, he’s fine, Ghost’s fine, it will all be fine when Sansa is there again for another weekend hangout and Ghost swoops in as soon as she sets foot in the house only to gently take her hand in his mouth, reverently even, to lead Sansa to his couch.

Jon feels delirious. Does he have a fever? It’s not the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him only because Sam snorts, “He has a thing for redheads, too, Jon.”

Now it is the most embarrassing moment of his life, all of human existence, really.

Gilly whacks Sam on the back of the head, and while no one has thought much about Ghost’s odd behavior before, one comment is enough for the whole lot of them to suddenly all agree that it is peculiar Ghost doesn’t care much for anyone but has decided Sansa is his dearest friend. They’re laughing and talking and looking at Jon and oh. Oh fuck. It’s him. He’s the problem.

Sansa laughs, blushes, runs her long fingers gently behind Ghost’s ear. Robb however doesn’t seem amused, especially when Ghost sighs adoringly and places his head in Sansa’s lap.

Arya starts gagging.

But Sansa looks at Jon with a small smile, just for him, convincing him in an instant a little humiliation isn’t the worst thing, a dash of lavish devotion never hurt anyone.

He sighs, scratches his ear, smiles back.

[xxcrushesxx]

Too shy to say so

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, loss of virginity, mild pain and bleeding, emotional intensity, mature themes. Please read with discretion. All characters are depicted as consenting adults.

Synopsis: Harry decides to have so fun with y/n unaware that this was y/n’s first.

Pairing: Harry Styles x Y/N

The dim glow of fairy lights cast soft shadows across Harry’s apartment, the air heavy with the scent of vanilla candles and anticipation. Y/N sat on the edge of his couch, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her sweater, her heart racing as Harry emerged from the kitchen with two glasses of wine. His smile was warm, disarming, his curls slightly tousled from running his hands through them—a habit she’d noticed during their months of friendship that had slowly, inevitably, turned into something more.

“Thought we could use a drink,” he said, his voice low and smooth, handing her a glass. His green eyes lingered on hers, a quiet intensity that made her stomach flutter. “You seem nervous, love. Everything alright?”

Y/N nodded, taking a small sip, the wine sharp on her tongue. “Just… happy to be here. With you.” Her voice was soft, almost shy, and she hoped he didn’t notice the way her hands trembled. She hadn’t told him—this was her first time, and the weight of that secret felt heavier with every second.

Harry sat beside her, close enough that their thighs brushed, his warmth seeping into her. “I’m happy you’re here too,” he murmured, setting his glass down and turning to face her. His hand found her cheek, thumb brushing gently across her skin, and her breath hitched. “Been thinking about this for a while, Y/N. About you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and before she could overthink, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened, Harry’s hand sliding to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. His lips were warm, insistent, and Y/N melted into him, her nerves drowned out by the heat pooling in her core.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her mouth, his voice rough with want. He pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling his thighs, and she gasped at the feel of him beneath her, the hardness evident even through his jeans. His hands roamed her back, slipping under her sweater, fingers grazing her bare skin, sending shivers through her.

Clothes came off in a slow, deliberate dance—her sweater, his shirt, her jeans, his—until they were bare, skin against skin, the air thick with desire. Harry’s lips trailed down her neck, her collarbone, leaving a path of warmth that made her arch into him. He guided her to the bedroom, laying her gently on the bed, his eyes dark with hunger but softened with care.

“You sure about this?” he asked, hovering over her, his voice low and serious. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Y/N’s heart pounded, but she nodded, her voice steady despite the nerves. “I want this, Harry. I want you.” She didn’t tell him it was her first time—partly from embarrassment, partly because she didn’t want to break the moment.

He kissed her deeply, his hands exploring her body with a reverence that made her feel cherished. His fingers found her core, teasing gently, and she moaned, her body responding instinctively. “So responsive,” he murmured, his lips curving into a smile against her skin. “Gonna take care of you, love.”

When he positioned himself between her legs, he moved slowly, entering her with a careful thrust. Y/N tensed, the unfamiliar sensation sharp, but she bit her lip, urging him on with a nod. Harry’s pace quickened, his breaths ragged, and he pulled her up, guiding her to straddle him. “Ride me, Y/N,” he said, his voice thick with desire, his hands gripping her hips. “Wanna see you move.”

She hesitated, unsure, but his encouragement—his hands guiding her, his eyes locked on hers—gave her courage. She began to move, tentative at first, but Harry’s hands tightened, urging her down harder. In one swift motion, he thrust up, filling her completely, and a sharp cry tore from her throat. Pain bloomed, sudden and intense, and tears welled in her eyes. She froze, her breaths shaky, and Harry’s eyes widened, concern replacing the haze of lust.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” His voice was urgent, his hands stilling her hips. He glanced down, noticing the faint smear of blood, and his face paled. “Oh God… was this your first time? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, tears spilling over. “I—I didn’t want you to think I was… I don’t know, childish. I wanted this, I just… it hurts.”

Harry’s expression softened, guilt and tenderness washing over him. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said, his voice gentle as he carefully lifted her off him, laying her back on the bed. “I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t know. I’d have been so much gentler.” He brushed her tears away, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “We’re stopping, alright? Just let me take care of you.”

She nodded, her body still trembling, and Harry moved with quiet efficiency. He grabbed a warm washcloth from the bathroom, gently cleaning her with careful, soothing touches, murmuring apologies and reassurances. “You’re perfect, Y/N. I’m so sorry I hurt you. Should’ve asked, should’ve known.”

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, her voice steadier now, comforted by his warmth. “I should’ve told you.”

He shook his head, climbing into bed beside her and pulling her into his arms. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve got you now.” He wrapped a soft blanket around them, his hand stroking her hair as he held her close. “How do you feel? Need anything? Water, painkillers?”

“Just you,” she said, nestling into his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calming her. He kissed the top of her head, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her back.

“We’ll go slow next time, yeah?” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Whenever you’re ready. No rush. I just want you to feel safe. Loved.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes heavy but warm. “I do, Harry. I really do.”

They lay there, tangled in each other, the earlier intensity replaced by a quiet intimacy. Harry kept her close, whispering sweet nothings until she drifted off, safe in his arms, knowing this was only the beginning of something real.

[kuiofficial]

True colors

Jinu x male reader

⚠️ warnings: none,

Fluff

A/n : this is my first time writing so don't expect much </3

You were walking through an alleyway unaware you were being followed, suddenly out of nowhere a man was infront of you. You looked at him confused, then noticed some weird markings on his arms. "Hey, you have a cool costume on.. but it's not halloween?" You said looking more at him.

Jinu looked confused, did you not know what he was? He sweared you were a hunter of some type. "Uh.. yeah this is a costume." He said nervously, he didn't really want to eat your soul because you seemed... cute.. and innocent. His eyes seemed to flash a slight red hue, mixing with the golden color.

You noticed the way he was looking at you, prompting you to cover up your arms. "O-oh! I'm sorry I didn't mean to stare!" Jinu stuttered out looking away embarrassed. Seeing how cute he looked you blushed, a pink hue dusting your cheeks. "Y/n.." you said, reaching out your hand to the taller/shorter male. "Jinu." He said, grabbing your hand to shake.

"Wait.. Jinu!?!? The leader of the Saja boys!?" You practically screamed, prompting him to cover your mouth with his hand. "Mmph!!!" "Hey, quiet down I don't want anyone to see me here.." he said whispering. You almost fainted at the feeling of his.. long... veiny... hands... (guys don't judge </3) touching your lips.

Jinu caught on to this, and smirked a little bit. "So you like my hands.. huh?" Jinu said smuggly, you blushed so hard that you looked like a red tomato. He took his hands off laughing "it's just a joke!" He said rolling his eyes. However he wished that instead of his hands touching your lips, it was his lips..

"Well! I gotta go, you know I'm uh.. busy!" Jinu said handing you a little piece of paper, you took it confused. When you opened it, it was his phone number and a small note saying 'call me'. When you looked back up, he was gone. Mentally screaming in your head, you ran home super excited. You didn't know it yet, but now you were Jinu's..

Should I make this a series guys?

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

Where the Flowers Don't Grow - Chapter 19

Word Count: 10.8k ooopsss

Warnings: grab your tissues shit's getting emotional.

Notes: no notes, just me in tears because I love these three too damn much

Fic Masterlist

“You’ve been keeping the bandages clean?” the older woman asked gently, peeling the gauze back with practiced hands.

Faith nodded. “Joel’s been doing it.”

“And the meds? Any nausea? Dizziness?”

“A bit. First day. I’ve cut back.”

The doctor hummed. “Still hurting?”

“Only when I sleep funny,” she said, which was a lie. It still hurt like a bitch most of the time — just less than it used to, but still a lot. She didn’t want to sit there much longer so, she didn’t tell the full truth.

It had been four days since they’d gotten to Jackson. Three days since Ellie had last talked to her or Joel. Two days since Joel had started to keep to himself more, and one day since Faith had started to grow a bit desperate with everything. But most of all, she was just… sad.

She’d snuck out the house alone to come to the clinic for her checkup on her shoulder, a bit earlier in the morning than the appointment was scheduled for, but she’d blame that on her not being used to have timed appointments. The doctor was already there and she also didn’t say anything to Faith about being there sooner than she’d expected her, so everything was alright.

The doctor didn’t push her, sticking to examining the wound quietly, checking the stitches, rotating Faith’s arm a little. “It’s healing clean. Won’t leave an ugly scar. That’s good. You’ve been looking after it.”

Joel has, she wanted to say, but didn’t.

Instead, she focused on the thin slice of morning light creeping through the blinds, painting pale stripes across the cabinet.

“Anything else I should know?” the doctor asked.

Faith shook her head. “No. I’m good.”

Another lie. But the woman just nodded and started repacking the medical kit.

Faith pulled her jacket back on slowly. It still tugged over her shoulder.

“I’d tell you to take it easy,” the doctor said, “but I have a feeling you won’t.”

Faith offered a tired smile. “You’d be right.”

The woman gave a small shrug. “You’re young. You’ll bounce back. Keep taking the meds, and come back in by the end of the week. Still — if it gets worse again, come back sooner.”

“I will.”

Faith stepped outside before the doctor could say anything else. The air was cool, the early sun just starting to burn off the fog that hugged the edges of the houses. She was halfway down the steps before she sawJoel, leaning against a post, arms folded.

Well, shit.

She slowed her steps, adjusting her jacket over her good shoulder. “Hey,” she said, trying for casual. “What are you doing here?”

Joel’s brows lifted, not amused. “You think I wasn’t gonna notice you sneaking off?”

“I didn’t sneak,” she muttered, hopping down the last step. “I had an appointment, so I came in early. No big deal.”

He gave her a look. “Faith.”

She sighed. “What? I figured… Maybe you might wanna stick to keeping to yourself. Like you’ve been doing for the past few days, anyways.”

His jaw tensed slightly. “That ain’t fair,” he stood, arms akimbo for a few seconds, until he sighed too. Teenagers still weren’t his strongest suit. “I still worry about you, alright?” he added, in a softer tone.

“I know,” she said, regretting her small outburst. “I just… I didn’t think you’d wanna come. That’s all.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just looked at her, and for a second she hated how easy it was to feel like a little kid under his gaze. Not because he was angry. But because he cared. Her eyes drifted to the bag in his hand, if only to break the tension.

“What’s that?”

He held it up sighing. “Got us some breakfast. Brought it from the hall. Figured we could eat at home.”

It was still new to have somewhere to refer to as ‘home’. Even weirder considering it was Joel’s, Faith’s and Ellie’s too.

Faith’s stomach gave an embarrassing little growl at the mention of food she hoped he hadn’t heard. “You didn’t have to.”

Joel shook his head. “I wanted to.”

They walked in silence for a bit, the streets waking up slowly around them, most folks only just starting their morning routines. When they reached the house, Joel pushed the door open for her, and she toed off her boots before paddling to the kitchen and settling at the breakfast table. He set the bag down, pulled out a couple of wrapped plates, and handed one to her without saying anything. It smelled like eggs and something fried. Her stomach approved.

Faith waited until she’d taken a bite before asking, “Did you see Ellie? She was still sleeping when I left.”

Joel nodded, sitting across from her. “She was already out when I got back. Slipped out after you, I guess. I’ll have to consider putting up locks if you two keep up with the sneaking habit.”

Faith tried not to show her disappointment at Ellie having already left, but she scoffed at the ‘sneaking’ comment. Joel must’ve seen something in her face anyway, because he added, “Tommy promised to keep an eye on her while she’s around town.”

She stabbed at a piece of potato with her fork. “She won’t like it. Say something like, that she’s not a baby.”

“No, she ain’t.” Joel’s tone was calm, but something in it made her glance up.

“I get why she doesn’t wanna see us,” Faith said quietly. “But… this sucks, y’know?”

Joel didn’t answer that, and neither of them had to say the obvious sentiment both of them were feeling: it hurt.

“What did the doctor say?” he asked after a while, nodding toward her shoulder.

Faith shrugged, trying to keep it light. “It’s fine. Healing clean, won’t leave an ugly scar. I’m good.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed just a bit, like he wasn’t buying it. “What did she say about the meds? Still the same dosage?”

“Um, yeah, I guess.” She took another bite of her breakfast, chewing extra long on her bacon. She hadn’t tried it until a few days ago, and man, it was good.

Joel muttered under his breath, “Maybe I’ll swing by the clinic later myself… got some questions about the healing. And I’ll ask about the meds, too.”

Faith rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. She knew he was only saying that because he cared. A little part of her felt worse for not waiting for him to come with her.

They ate quietly for a moment, the clinking of forks the only sound.

Joel finally spoke again, voice low and serious. “You know… I’ve been thinking about it, and I, uh… I think we have to talk about what happened back at the hospital in Salt Lake.”

Faith stiffened but kept chewing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes meeting hers. “For draggin’ you into it. That whole mess. I should’ve let you somewhere safe and gotten to Ellie alone. You shouldn’t have be dealing’ with the aftermath of it.”

Faith swallowed, shaking her head. “I’m not a kid, Joel. I can handle it.”

He shook his head, his lips forming a small, sad smile. “But you are a kid, Faith. Maybe you aren’t a teenager like they used to be twenty years ago – I know you were born into this shithole of an apocalypse and that you’ve already seen too much cruelty – but… You’re also still just sixteen. It’s not fair, and… I’m sorry for making it worse.”

For the past two days, Joel hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the hospital. It played behind his eyes when he tried to sleep, when he stood under the spray of the shower, when he passed other people in the street. And Faith—her boots thudding behind him, her screaming when she was hit—was at the centre of it all. He’d done terrible things for Ellie’s sake, but Faith? She hadn’t owed him or that kid anything. And yet she’d stayed. She’d followed him straight into hell. That guilt sat heavy on his chest, heavier than it had any right to.

Faith looked away, the weight of it settling between them. She couldn’t say it didn’t haunt her—the chaos, the fear, the people they killed... The gunshot wound on her shoulder was enough of a reminder of it. And she thought it was sweet of Joel to still want her to be a ‘normal’ sixteen year old, whatever that normalcy looked like nowadays.

But what had happened at the hospital? She’d done what she had to. She didn’t like it, but she didn’t regret it.

“I chose to follow you,” she said, finally. “I knew you’d lead the way, and I covered you. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let you get up there and get shot. I thought I was already going to lose Ellie, so I… I couldn’t risk losing you too, okay?” she swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. “You didn’t drag me into anything. I chose it. I wanted to save Ellie, too. And that’s it.”

Faith couldn't do much, but she could at least take that burden off Joel.

After a while he nodded, accepting it. Neither of them said another word as they finished their breakfast in shared, silent understanding.

(…)

Ellie pressed her forehead against Shimmer’s warm neck, breathing in the mix of hay, sweat, and the earthy scent of horse.

The stables were quiet this early—just the soft clop of shifting hooves, the rustle of hay, the distant call of a bird outside... Shimmer let out a low, contented snort, her breath stirring the loose hairs at Ellie’s temple. She hadn’t meant to come here again this soon, but the world felt slower here. Gentler. Less full of eyes and questions. That’s why she came back to visit Shimmer every day since Maria first brought her back.

A boot scraped near the entrance. Ellie stiffened, not pulling away, but not moving either.

“Mornin’,” Tommy’s voice came low, casual.

She didn’t turn around. “Hey.”

He didn’t say anything else, just moved past her toward the far stalls with a shovel over one shoulder. The metal clanked softly as he set it down. A moment later, the rhythm of mucking out began—dull thuds and scrapes, straw shifting. She knew Tommy was keeping an eye on her, he’d ‘casually’ dropped by wherever she went around town the past few days. He didn’t push her to talk about anything, though, so she just ignored him and minded her own business as he focused on his.

Ellie stroked Shimmer’s nose, grateful for the silence.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk. She just didn’t know how. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

The worst part wasn’t what Joel did, or said, or rather not said.

It was that she didn’t know what she would’ve done differently.

She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a small apple she’d swiped from the kitchen earlier, then held it flat in her palm. Shimmer took it gently, lips brushing her skin, and Ellie gave a faint smile, barely there.

A voice broke the quiet behind her, smooth and a little smug.

“You know she’s already had breakfast, right? She’s just using you for snacks at this point.”

Ellie flinched and turned fast, hand instinctively twitching toward where a weapon would be, if she were carrying one. But it was just a girl. Maybe her age—hard to tell—with long, chocolate-brown hair falling loose messily down her back, skin tanned from actual sun exposure – not apocalypse grime – and sharp brown eyes that were studying Ellie like she was the one out of place.

The girl leaned casually on a shovel, standing just outside the stall, boots muddy, sleeves rolled up. Not a threat. Not unless sarcasm counted as a weapon.

Ellie straightened, instantly annoyed at herself for being startled. “She likes apples.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, and I like pie. Doesn’t mean strangers should start handing me baked goods just because I look bored.”

Ellie squinted. “Are you… comparing yourself to a horse?”

“No,” the girl said, deadpan. “I’m just saying I’m also food motivated.”

Ellie blinked. That had come out of nowhere. The corner of her mouth might’ve twitched. “Uh-huh.”

There was a pause, then the girl stepped into the stall without asking and started shoveling the nearby straw like she belonged there. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to cramp your weird emotional bonding session with the horse. Just doing my actual job.”

Ellie watched her for a beat. “Is sarcasm your job too, or just the shoveling?”

“Depends on the day.”

She worked efficiently, not meeting Ellie’s eyes now. Like she wasn’t trying to impress, focusing on what she had to do, which somehow made it more impressive.

“So,” the girl said after a while, “you’re the one everyone’s talking about.”

Ellie tensed. “Yeah?”

“Yep. New girl. Kinda famous, actually. The whispers are almost louder than the chickens.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Great.”

“What’d you do, anyway? Steal someone’s last Twinkie?”

Ellie crossed her arms. “Something like that.”

The girl threw a quick glance over her shoulder. “Relax. I don’t care. People here get bored easy. You’re just the new shiny thing to gossip about. Happens every time someone fresh shows up.”

Ellie leaned back against the stall wall, arms folded. “You always this talkative?”

The girl shrugged. “Not really. But you looked like you needed it.”

That shut Ellie up for a second.

Shimmer nudged her elbow, clearly bored of the people-talk, and Ellie absentmindedly reached to scratch behind her ear.

“So,” the girl went on, still casually working, “how long you been travellin’ before reaching Jackson?”

“Since Boston,” Ellie said.

The girl’s eyebrows lifted. “Boston? Damn. That’s a long ride.”

Ellie smirked. “Few months. We got a car for a while, but then we didn’t, so it had to be walking. A lot of walking. Like, destroy-your-feet kind of walking.”

“Sounds awful.”

“Yeah. It was.”

Another pause. Then:

“I’m guessing you didn’t come all this way just to hang out with livestock.”

Ellie shrugged. “You ever meet a horse that judges you?”

“Only once,” the girl said. “But he and I worked things out. Bribed him with some carrots.”

That definitely got a real smile out of Ellie. She looked away before the girl could see.

They kept talking. Not about anything big—horses, Jackson being weirdly normal, the food, the weather... Nothing serious, really, just casual conversations that flowed easily without having to be forced. The girl cracked jokes every few minutes like she couldn’t help herself, and Ellie found herself staying longer than she meant to. Her shoulders slowly dropped from around her ears, and she caught herself thinking that this was… nice.

After a while, the girl paused to wipe sweat from her brow, leaning the shovel against the stall wall. She gave Ellie a once-over, not unkind, then raised an eyebrow.

“You got something living in your stomach, or was that just you?”

Ellie blinked, confused—until her stomach gave another soft, guilty growl.

She exhaled through her nose, deadpan. Betrayal. That’s what that was.

The girl smirked. “Damn. Guess that answers my question.”

She crouched next to her bag, pulled out a small cloth bundle, and casually unwrapped it. Inside were two bagels, slightly smushed but still whole. She grabbed one and tossed it underhand without looking.

Ellie caught it on reflex. “Wait—what? You serious?”

The girl was already tying the cloth back up. “Nah. Just tossing bread at strangers for fun.”

Ellie looked at the bagel in her hand. It was soft and warm from being carried close to the body. She hesitated. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s extra,” the girl interrupted. “I always bring two. One for me, one for future me, in case present-me screws up and forgets or future me is still hungry.”

Then she grabbed the shovel again and turned to leave the stall. “Don’t choke on it.”

Ellie watched her go, something sparking under her ribs she didn’t know what to do with.

“I’m Ellie,” she said, just loud enough to carry.

The girl paused, one hand on the stall door, then glanced back over her shoulder. Her smirk was still there, but it softened just a little.

“I know.”

Ellie waited. “… And you?” she raised one eyebrow. “I don’t know much about living in a society like Jackson, but I think you’re supposed to tell me your name now too after telling you mine.”

The girl’s smirk widened, her teeth showing as she laughed under her breath.

“Sounds fair,” she said. “I’m Dina.”

And then she walked off to the next stall, whistling low under her breath.

Ellie stared after her for a beat, then looked down at the bagel, smiling to herself.

She didn’t go near the food hall on her way back.

The bagel Dina had given her had been an amazing breakfast, especially for what she was used to. She didn’t need anything else to eat, so she just… avoided it. Didn’t go near the food hall, because she knew that Joel might be there, and even Faith, too. Ellie would only find there kindness that might come in the form of hot food and forced small talk and someone reaching out with a soft voice that would make her want to either scream or cry or both.

So instead, she wandered. Took the long way around the rows of houses, past the school building with its swing set, past the gardens someone had replanted with early carrots and beans. Past the fence line, just far enough to see the edges of the river trail.

She didn’t know what the hell she was doing. Avoiding people, mostly. Faith. Joel.

Especially Joel.

Ellie took a slow breath and walked on.

By the time she made it back to the house, the sun had risen higher. Mid-morning light spilled over the porch steps, some flowers in the front garden already reaching out to the sun themselves awakened under its rays. The wood creaked faintly under her steps as she made her way up.

The door opened just as Ellie reached the top step.

Joel stepped out, letting the door ease closed behind him. He paused when he saw her—like he hadn’t expected to find her there, though maybe a part of him always hoped he would. For a few seconds, neither of them said anything.

Then Joel gave a small nod. “Hey.”

She gave him a noncommittal nod in return, not quite looking at him.

“You, uh…” He shifted the tote higher on his shoulder. “You get some air?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He paused. His hand twitched at his side like he didn’t know what to do with it. He cleared his throat lightly. “I was just headin’ over to Tommy and Maria’s. Faith’s over there. Maria’s got a bunch of clothes she set aside—stuff for you two to choose from to have a proper wardrobe. Told Faith to come have a look,” a pause. He looked at her again, then down at his boots, then back up. “So I’m goin’ over there now,” he continued, slower this time. “Gonna carry back whatever she picks out. Probably grab some things for myself too.”

Ellie nodded once, stiff. She didn’t move to go around him, didn’t move to engage.

Joel hesitated, rocking back slightly on his heels.

“If you want,” he said carefully, voice even, “you could come too. Help pick out somethin’ for yourself. There’s a lot to go through, and Faith might be guessin’ sizes if you don’t show.”

Ellie didn’t answer.

He tried again. “It’s not a big deal. Just clothes. Might be nice to—”

“No,” Ellie said, her voice short but not sharp.

Joel’s mouth twitched like he was about to ask again, or offer a compromise, or say something light to soften the refusal. But instead, he just closed his mouth and nodded, looking down again.

She stepped past him toward the door.

He turned, almost instinctively. “Ellie—”

She stopped with her hand on the doorknob, spine tense.

He tried again. “I just… I wanted to check in. See how you’re—”

“Don’t.” She turned halfway toward him, eyes meeting his for the first time. They were tired. Guarded. “Don’t do that.”

Joel’s brows knit. “Do what?”

“Act like it’s normal.” Her voice caught a little. “Like you can just ask how I’m doing and I’ll smile and tell you everything’s fine. Like we’re just… back to that.”

He took a slow breath. “I’m not expectin’ that. I just—”

“I need time,” Ellie said, the words tumbling out before he could finish. It was a truth she needed him to understand.  “Okay? I’m still trying to make sense of everything. Of what happened. Of what you did. Of what I’m supposed to feel now. I don’t even know what I’m mad at half the time, Joel. And I’m not ready to have some big talk about it. Or any talk at all. I’m not ready to be around you for more than… this.” She gestured vaguely between them. “And even this is pushing it. I just need time”

Joel didn’t look angry. Didn’t push. Didn’t argue. His expression was unreadable for a moment—then it cracked, just barely. A flicker of guilt. Of loss. The kind that sat in his chest like a rusted anchor. His hands slipped into the pockets of his jacket, his shoulders squaring like he’d been bracing for this exact conversation, even if he’d hoped it might go a different way. But he swallowed it back down, forced himself to nod.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “I hear you.”

Ellie stared at him for another second, then turned back toward the door.

He stepped down onto the porch, boots crunching lightly in the grass. Just before he reached the last step, he glanced back.

“I’ll tell Faith to bring somethin’ back for you. If there’s anything you don’t like, we’ll sort it out.”

Ellie didn’t reply.

He gave her one more look—soft, uncertain, aching in a way he couldn’t say out loud—then turned and started down the path toward Tommy and Maria’s house.

Ellie waited until he was out of sight before she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The house was still. Sunlight drifted in through the living room curtains, painting pale stripes on the floor.  She didn’t bother taking off her jacket. Just climbed the stairs quickly, as if Joel was still behind her, each step heavier than the last, and shut herself into her room as fast as she could.

She didn’t know why the silence felt so much louder here, now that she was alone again. That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?

Then why… why did she feel so bad?

Her jacket came off in a clumsy shrug. She let it fall to the floor, kicked her shoes off without untying them. Pacing didn’t help, but she did it anyway—back and forth across the space, her thoughts following her in circles that never landed anywhere useful.

Maybe it wasn’t even what Joel said.

Maybe it was the way he’d looked at her. Like he still wanted to be her Joel. Like he still was, somewhere in there.

And she… She didn’t know what she wanted him to be.

She dropped onto the edge of the bed and stared at her hands. They were dirty from the stable—bits of hay, the faint smell of horse clinging to her sleeves—and she hated how familiar that felt. How normal it was. Like things hadn’t split apart just a few days ago. Like the world hadn’t flipped, cracked, rearranged itself into something she couldn’t quite navigate.

And Faith. She hadn’t even seen her this morning.

Ellie exhaled sharply and rubbed at her face, palms dragging over her eyes.

She was tired of being angry. Tired of feeling betrayed. Tired of pretending the storm in her chest made sense when it didn’t. She laid back, arms sprawled out, staring up at the ceiling like it might have answers.

It didn’t.

Nothing did.

A sound floated faintly through the window—laughter, maybe, from down the street. The soft creak of a cart wheel. Life going on. People moving forward.

Ellie closed her eyes.

And let the silence stretch.

(…)

A week after their arrival to Jackson, things hadn’t changed much.

Not really.

Tommy and Maria had helped them out to settle. They gave the three of them clothes to fill out their closets—warmer stuff for the colder days, lighter stuff for the summer ahead, all of it well-kept, things that actually fit. They brought over odds and ends for the house too: bedding, kitchen basics, even a few things that could make the place feel more like home, if such a thing still existed for any of them.

Joel had started putting together a small workstation in the corner of his room—nothing fancy, just a sturdy table and a few tools. It gave his hands something to do in the evenings. One night, he’d surprised Faith with a carved dog figure he’d made out of spare wood. It was rough around the edges, a bit uneven, but he’d sanded it down enough to make it soft to the touch. She’d smiled when he gave it to her, dropping it by her room as he came to say goodnight. Told him she loved it. Kept it on her nightstand like it was made of gold.

Maria had stopped by early one morning with a dusty old Walkman and a music player she’d found in storage and a handful of tapes she thought Ellie might like. Mostly pop-rock—most of it from the eighties and early to mid-nineties. She hadn’t asked Ellie if she liked music, really, but she figured she might want to listen to something while she was alone in her room… which was most of the time. She just handed it over with a shrug, like she understood without needing to say much.

Faith got her own pile of treasures: sketchpads, coloured pencils, a small set of watercolours that Maria had apparently traded someone for. She’d taken to copying the illustrations in her mother’s botanical journal, each plant carefully shaded and labelled in the margins. The pages were starting to pile up on her desk like little pieces of a world long gone, connecting with her Mom through her paintings.

But through all of it—through the meals, and the errands, and the quiet evenings when the lamps glowed warm in the house and someone always passed the salt without asking—Ellie said very little.

She hadn’t yelled. Hadn’t exploded or argued. Just… gone quiet.

She slipped in and out of rooms like a shadow, barely touching anything. She ate in silence, offered little more than one-word answers when spoken to. Her eyes barely landed on Joel or Faith for more than a second before she looked away again, like it stung.

Most mornings, she left the house before either of them were up and walked to the stables to visit Shimmer. She’d come back around midday, head down, arms crossed, and disappear into her room before they could ask how she was.

It wasn’t distance. Not really. It was an armour. And she wore it like a second skin.

One morning Faith woke up to a note from Joel on her nightstand saying that he was out with Tommy helping him out in a town workshop where they did repairs for furniture, tools, anything people would hand in really – which was perfect for their contractor skillset –, and that he’d left her some breakfast ready in the microwave to heat up.

He’d done that on purpose, for sure. He knew she still didn’t get along too well with the microwave. It fucking amused him.

Ellie was out already too, Faith could tell because instead of being shut, the door to her room left slightly open, which could only mean she wasn’t in there.

So she had breakfast, not rushing it, minding her shoulder like the doctor had told her to yet again on her last checkup, and then headed up to take a warm shower, which was a luxury she’d quickly grown to love.

She undressed slowly, careful of the still-healing skin at her shoulder. She peeled off her pants last. That was when the image struck her.

Just a flicker at first—like a misfired neuron—but enough to make her flinch. The fabric bunching down her thighs, that vulnerable space between being clothed and not, it unlocked something she’d buried with effort every day since that day.

David.

In that room, that office. That fucking look in his eyes.

She gripped the edge of the sink for a moment, steadying herself, her pants still half-off, breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t real. Not now. She knew that. She was in a real bathroom, with a clean tile floor and a working shower and a door that locked.

But memory didn’t give a shit about facts.

It crept in anyway. Uninvited. She could feel his hands again—could smell him, even though she knew that was impossible. He was dead. Ellie had killed him. Still, her stomach twisted violently.

Faith pushed the pants off and stepped into the shower without thinking, yanked the water on hot, as hot as it would go. The heat slammed into her skin, almost too much, but she didn’t back away. Didn’t flinch. Just turned her face into it like it could scour everything away.

She grabbed the soap, lathered it into her hands, and scrubbed. Her arms. Her chest. Her thighs.

Again.

And again.

Three times over, until her skin bloomed red, until the steam choked her lungs and her fingers ached from how tightly she held the bar of soap.

She didn’t cry. She’d told herself there wasn’t time for it. That if she let herself start, she might never stop, and she wanted to be okay, to forget it, and not waste more time of her life thinking about him.

But here, alone, in the heat and pressure of the shower, something inside her cracked. Not into sobs, not into tears—just silence.

Like a hollow space that used to be her.

She turned the water off with a sharp motion, stepped out, and dried off fast, like she couldn’t stand being bare any longer. Her bathrobe was soft. Clean. It helped. She let it hug her tightly and rubbed the towel through her hair, rough and quick, like she was trying to shake something loose from her skull.

She made the mistake of looking up.

The mirror had fogged, mostly. But not completely. Her reflection looked back at her through the haze. Paler than usual. Eyes shadowed. And her hair.

Wet, curling at the ends. Tangled. Long enough to grab.

Long enough that he had grabbed it.

Dragged her back when she tried to crawl.

She stopped drying it. Just stared.

She hadn’t cut it in forever. It’d grown wild, unkempt during months on the road. Ellie had sometimes teased her about it, said she looked like she belonged in a forest—which, for a long time, she had. But now, every time she caught it in the corner of her eye or felt it tug at her back beneath a coat or shirt, she remembered him. Remembered his fingers twisted in it, yanking her head back, the sound of her own breath choking.

Her stomach turned again.

No.

No more.

She dropped the towel.

Walked out of the bathroom while her legs were still dripping, water trailing behind her.

She knew there were scissors in the kitchen drawer. They were sharp. She’d used them once to trim a thread off the hem of one of the new shirts Maria had given her.

Now, she gripped them like they were a weapon, not to harm, but to cut her way to freedom.

She stood in front of her bedroom mirror this time, the scissors in one hand, her still-damp hair clinging to her shoulders and back.

Then, she took the first piece and held the scissors up.

She wanted to cut him from her.

But her hand shook. Not a little. A lot. She gripped a lock of hair near her temple, raised the scissors—held them poised—and froze.

Where do I start?

The thought came in a flood of others, crashing into her like waves on jagged rocks. What if I mess it up? What if it looks stupid? What if this changes nothing? What if I still feel him?

Her breath hitched. Her chest was tight. She dropped the hair, tried again, this time grabbing a chunk near the back. But her fingers trembled, the blades of the scissors barely fitting around the strands before she stopped again.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her knees buckled slightly, and she dropped to sit on the edge of her bed, scissors thrown to the side, palms over her face. She took shallow breaths, her robe damp and clinging to her skin, her wet hair dripping down her back.

She wanted to scream. Rip it all out by the roots. She wanted to be free of it—of him—so badly it burned.

But her body had locked up.

She squeezed her eyes shut, heart pounding against her ribs, and tried to ground herself. Her fingers dug into the comforter beneath her. She pressed her heels into the wooden floor. The world felt tilted, like she was underwater again, drowning in memories.

And then—

A flash.

A moment. Not a violent one. Not a haunting one.

Ellie, rolling her eyes that day at Tommy and Maria’s house, sitting in a chair with a towel around her shoulders while Maria trimmed the ends of her hair, neat and practiced. Maria had mentioned she liked doing hair probably because it was a mom thing.

Then Maria had looked at Faith, asked if she wanted hers done too.

Faith had hesitated. Said no. Because her mom was the one who used to cut it. Because no one had after her mom had died, unless she did it herself with whatever she could find.

But Maria hadn’t pushed. She’d just smiled and accepted it.

Faith stood again before she knew she was moving. She left the scissors forgotten on her bed, pulled on a pair of jeans—still stiff from the closet shelf, her fingers were trembling as she buttoned the jeans, but she kept going—and a loose short-sleeved shirt. She stepped into her new shoes without even putting on socks, tied the laces. Shrugged on a jacket, even though she didn’t really need it, and left.

By the time she’d walked down the street, her hair had dried in stringy, uneven waves. Her hands were shoved deep into her pockets to keep from fidgeting. Her chest was still tight, as if she was afraid she might crumble if she let herself breathe too deeply.

Faith walked up the porch, and she hesitated for just a moment—just one heartbeat—then knocked.

A pause. A long one. She heard steps approaching after a beat, and then the door opened slowly.

Maria blinked at her, wrapped in a soft cardigan over a maternity dress, her hair tied up messily, a tea mug in one hand. Her grown belly seemed even more prominent in that dress — She looked tired. Not upset.

“Oh,” Maria said, surprised. “Faith. Hey. Everything okay?”

Faith nodded quickly. Then shook her head. Then nodded again, blinking fast.

Maria waited. Faith took a breath.

“You, uh…” Her voice caught. She swallowed and tried again. “You once said you could cut hair.”

Maria glanced at her damp hair. Then at her face.

Faith dropped her gaze. “Is that… offer still up?”

There was no need to explain. Whatever Faith’s reasons were, Maria didn’t push her to tell her. She’d been filed in by Tommy on what Joel had told him about what had happened on their journey ever since they’d left Jackson in December, and if all Faith was asking to feel better was a haircut, Maria would do her best to help.

She stepped aside and held the door open wider, smiling softly. “Come on in.”

(…)

The sun was barely up, casting soft amber light through the slats in the stable roof, when Ellie had pushed open the gate to Shimmer’s stall. The mare nickered low in greeting, her warm breath curling into the crisp morning air as Ellie reached out to stroke her muzzle.

“Hey, girl,” she murmured, leaning her forehead gently against Shimmer’s. “Miss me?”

She hadn’t meant to spend this much time here, again. But the stables had become her quiet place—less eyes, less talking, more room to just be. Shimmer didn’t ask questions. She didn’t expect answers. She also didn’t speak her language, so that definitely helped.

Ellie was halfway through brushing her down when the creak of the stable door made her glance up.

Dina walked in, sleeves rolled up, two shovels slung over her shoulder like a farmer out of a storybook. She raised an eyebrow when their eyes met.

“If you’re gonna hang out in here all the time,” she said, tossing Ellie one of the shovels, “you might as well make yourself useful.”

Ellie caught it midair with a smirk. “Wow. Amazing. Ask me on a date out first.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Dina shot back, grinning as she stepped into the next stall and got to work. “Shovel first. Flirting later.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, but there was warmth in her chest she didn’t try to fight off. They worked in tandem for a while, the quiet rhythm of shovelling hay and the occasional grunt of effort filling the space. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it felt good. Normal.

She didn’t even hear the stable door open again until a familiar voice called out, “Jesus, you two starting your own farm or something?”

Jesse stood there in patrol gear, a saddlebag slung over one shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at the scene, amused. “Thought you were just here to sneak apples to Shimmer.”

Ellie shrugged. “Upgraded my duties.”

“She’s got the shovel to prove it,” Dina added with a wink.

Ellie had met him the next day after meeting Dina. He’d come by to see her, she’d introduced him to Ellie… and conversation flowed just as easily as with Dina. Ellie forgot about her problems for a while when she was with them, laughing again and feeling at ease. They didn’t act like they were walking on eggshells like everyone else around her, and it was refreshing.

Jesse stepped inside, brushing some of the early dew from his jacket. “Well, don’t let me stop you. Just here to grab Japan. We’ve got the west ridge this morning.”

He moved past them toward one of the stalls, but not before tossing a look back over his shoulder. “…You two always this productive before breakfast, or is this some kind of competition I should know about?”

Ellie scoffed, jabbing her shovel lightly into a pile of hay. “Don’t be jealous just ’cause we’re better at manual labour than you.”

“Right,” Jesse deadpanned, already unclipping Japan’s reins. “Remind me next time I’m wrangling infected out near the river who the real tough guys are.”

Dina leaned on her shovel, lips twitching with a smirk. “He’s just bitter because he knows Japan likes me better.”

At that, Jesse turned, mock offended. “Excuse you—she tolerates you. There’s a difference.”

Japan snorted at that, flicking her ears as if to weigh in, and Ellie chuckled under her breath.

“You heading out now?” Dina asked, brushing her sleeve across her forehead.

“Yeah,” Jesse said. “Maria’s got me and Seth on a short loop past the old power lines. Shouldn’t take more than a few hours unless something’s gone sideways out there.”

He started adjusting the saddle straps, then glanced up again, softer this time. “You sticking around here all day, Ellie?”

Ellie hesitated, glancing at Shimmer, then at Dina, who gave her a small smile.

“Yeah,” Ellie said eventually. “For a while longer, at least.”

“Cool,” Jesse nodded, giving Japan one last pat before leading her toward the main gate. “Catch you guys later. Don’t work too hard.”

“Tell Seth to shut up,” Dina called after him.

“Always do,” Jesse tossed back, and then he was gone, the sound of hooves and boots fading into the morning light.

For a moment, silence returned to the stables—quiet but not empty. Ellie glanced sideways at Dina, who was already shovelling again, humming some lazy tune that drifted between the hay bales like sunlight. It felt okay. It felt like a morning she wouldn’t mind remembering.

“You two… got going something on?” Ellie asked suddenly, glancing at Dina and to where Jesse had been a moment ago.

Dina raised her eyebrow. “Something going on?”

Ellie huffed, feeling the heat creeping up her neck to her cheeks. She wasn’t sure how to ask, she’d never been around couples much… and she’d only ever liked one person before, Riley. She wasn’t sure if how Dina and Jesse were acting was the same as she and Riley had, but it seemed like they were… familiar. Like friends, but also… not only like that.

“Forget it,” she said.

Dina shifted her weight, suddenly more focused on the shovel in her hands than anything else. “Something going on…” she repeated quietly, like she was testing how that sounded out loud.

Ellie shrugged again, this time smaller. “You don’t have to answer. Just seemed like maybe you guys were, I don’t know. Close-close.”

There was a pause.

Then Dina said, “We’ve known each other a long time. Since we both got here.” She pushed a clump of hay with her boot, not looking up. “He’s easy to talk to, and although he’s a bit older, he’s… nice. But it’s not like—” She made a vague motion with the shovel, like she was trying to draw a map in the air. “—a thing thing. I don’t know.”

Ellie nodded, quietly relieved and also more confused than before. “Yeah. I get that.”

Dina glanced at her, then away. “Do you…?”

“What?”

“Get that. Like, do you ever think about that stuff?”

Ellie opened her mouth. Closed it again. “Sometimes.”

They both fell quiet, the air thick with more than dust and straw now. Ellie tightened her grip on the shovel and tried to think of something cool or casual to say, but her brain short-circuited somewhere between I like girls and please don’t only like boys.

She settled for: “It’s complicated.”

Dina smiled faintly. “Yeah. Kinda is.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was soft. Like a blanket pulled up under your chin when you’re not quite ready to sleep. Neither of them really knew what to do with it, but neither of them backed away from it, either.

After a few moments, Dina let out a breath. “So… we’re still on shovel duty, right?”

Ellie nodded quickly. “Yeah. Totally. I’m great at shovelling hay.”

“You’re terrible at it.”

Ellie smirked. “Only because you distracted me.”

Dina grinned again, a little lopsided. “Come on. Let’s see who can finish their stall faster.”

And just like that, the moment folded itself up and tucked away somewhere safe, waiting for them to come back to it when they were ready.

By the time they finished the stalls, the sun was higher in the sky, and Ellie had hay in her hair, dirt on her shirt, and a stupid grin she couldn’t wipe off.

“Laundry duty later?” Dina had asked while leaning on her shovel, breathless but smiling.

“Sure,” Ellie had said, pretending to think about it. “You promise not to throw soap at me again?”

“No promises.”

She’d said yes anyway.

Now, Ellie walked the dirt path back toward the house, swinging her arms and kicking at little rocks as she went. She should’ve been tired, maybe even annoyed at having been roped into extra chores—but she wasn’t. Not even close. Something about being with Dina just made things feel easier. Warmer.

She was halfway past Tommy and Maria’s house, thinking vaguely about whether or not she could sneak a piece of leftover bread from the kitchen before heading up her room, when the front door creaked open.

Faith stepped out onto the porch, her shoes catching the wood with a soft thud as she descended the steps. She was zipping up her jacket over a t-shirt, head tilted down, not noticing Ellie at first.

And then Ellie did notice something—something small, but somehow impossible to miss.

Faith’s hair.

It used to hang past her shoulder blades in a rough braid most days, the kind of thing someone did more out of habit than care. But now it was… shorter. Cut just above her shoulders, the uneven ends gone. Soft waves framed her face, catching the morning light in a way that made her look—Ellie blinked—different. Not older exactly, just more… herself. Like how she was on the inside.

Faith glanced up then, catching Ellie watching her. She paused at the bottom step, one hand on the railing. “Hey,” when Ellie didn’t straight up ignore her, she tried a bit more. “What’s up?”

Ellie blinked again. “Nothing,” she said quickly, then added before her brain could stop her, “You cut your hair.”

Faith’s hand went up to her now short strands. “Yeah, uh… Asked Maria for some help. Got tired of it getting in the way all the time.”

It wasn’t true, of course. Ellie could tell by Faith’s reluctance to meet her gaze while she said it. But after thinking about the importance of truth and lies for a whole week, she decided she could let this one slide.

“It looks good,” Ellie said, more honest than she meant to be. “Like… really good. Suits you nice.”

Faith smiled brightly and thanked her after a beat. “Thanks,” she said, a little cautious, a little amused. “You look like you lost a fight with a hay bale.”

Ellie smirked, glancing down at herself. “Yeah, well. I won. Barely.”

A faint smirk tugged at Faith’s lips, and she started walking toward the main road, hands in her jacket pockets. “You going back to the house?”

“Uh, yeah…” Ellie took a few seconds, but she eventually walked alongside Faith.

They walked side by side down the road, heels crunching softly on the packed dirt. The town was wide awake —distant hammering from someone fixing a fence, the sharp bark of a dog—but around them, it still felt quiet. Still felt like theirs.

Neither of them spoke for a minute. The silence wasn’t exactly awkward… but it wasn’t easy either.

Then—

“So I—”

“How are you—”

They both stopped, glanced sideways at each other, and then down again just as quickly.

Faith let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh, kicking a pebble toward the grass. “You first.”

Ellie rubbed the back of her neck. “I was just gonna say… I know I’ve been kinda—” She hesitated, trying to find the right word, or any word that didn’t feel like ripping off a scab. “Distant.”

Faith didn’t say anything right away, and that made Ellie push through.

“I wasn’t trying to be a jerk. I just…” She shrugged, voice lower now. “Sometimes it’s easier to not say stuff, you know?”

“Yeah,” Faith said, voice quiet. “I know.”

Ellie looked at her then. And maybe it was the hair, or the way she was walking with her hands swaying at her sides instead of deep in her pockets like her own, but something in Faith looked more… open, too.

“I saw you the other day,” Ellie said, “near the barn. You looked like you wanted to say something. But you didn’t.”

Faith blinked. “I didn’t want to, like, intrude in your space or anything. I figured you didn’t wanna hear it.”

“Probably not,” Ellie admitted. “But I guess I do now.”

Faith didn’t answer, not right away—but her pace slowed a little, like she was listening more than walking now. Her silence wasn’t shutting Ellie out. It was giving her room.

“I’m not good at this stuff,” Ellie added after a beat. “Talking.”

“You’re doing fine.”

That made Ellie huff softly through her nose. “Thanks.”

They reached the front porch of their house, the old wood creaking under their steps. Faith grabbed the door handle, but paused before pulling it open.

She glanced over at Ellie—not with the guarded caution she’d worn all week, but with a quieter kind of curiosity.

“You seem… different,” she said, and it wasn’t an accusation. Just an observation.

Ellie tilted her head. “Different how?” maybe it was because she had been laughing with Dina, or because she had had time to process everything… but she cracked a joke without realizing it. “You should take a look in the mirror yourself, ‘cause I’m not the one who got a glow up, you are.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Faith smirked, and then she gave a half-shrug, the corner of her mouth curling up. “I dunno, it feels like… you’re letting people in again. Just a little.”

Ellie looked away, trying not to smile but failing. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

Faith pushed open the door, holding it for her. “Too late. It’s good to see you again. Really.”

For the first time, walking through the threshold didn’t feel like crossing into a stranger’s house. Next to Faith, it kinda started to feel a bit more like theirs.

(…)

Joel came back home late in the afternoon.

He stepped through the front door just as the light outside started to dip toward evening, brushing the horizon in orange and muted pink. He closed it gently behind him, boots heavy on the floor as he shrugged off his jacket, dust from the repair shop still clinging to the fabric. His arms ached from a full day of hauling parts and coaxing rusted gears back to life, but he didn’t mind it—not when it meant he’d been doing something useful, rewarding, and actually helping others.

Faith was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, her head bowed slightly as she worked with careful strokes over a sheet of parchment. Scattered around her were pencils, a bit of charcoal, and her mom’s old botanical journal, opened wide like it was a doorway into another time. Joel paused in the archway, watching her replicate the detailed ink sketch of a flowering vine, scaling it up with a level of precision that probably would’ve even impressed her mother.

He opened his mouth, about to gently remind her to take it easy—her shoulder still hadn’t healed all the way—but the words caught in his throat.

He noticed her hair was shorter.

Cut clean above her shoulders, the long braid she used to wear now gone. In its place, soft shorter waves framed her face, catching what little sunlight remained. It made her look… lighter. Not younger, not necessarily older. Just more like herself.

She glanced up when she noticed him standing there. Her pencil paused mid-line.

“Hey,” she said, smiling. She caught him staring then, and she shrunk a bit into herself. “You don’t like it?”

Joel blinked. Then he shook his head slowly, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “No, babygirl, no... You look beautiful.”

A flush crept into her cheeks. She looked down quickly, fiddling with the edge of the paper. “It was just… time,” she mumbled. “Felt like something I needed to do. To let it all go.”

Joel didn’t need her to say what exactly she wanted to let go of, but she didn’t have to. He’d lived the aftermath of her trauma by her side, held her through her nightmares, stayed awake with her when she was too scared to go back asleep… and he felt a deep, fierce sense of pride for her for pushing through the pain and taking a step to recovery. To feel like herself again, happy, learning to live with the scar of trauma on her own terms.

He stepped forward slowly, lowering himself beside her, knees creaking in protest. He didn’t touch her right away, just sat close on the floor by her side with his back leaning on the couch.

“I’m proud of you,” he said quietly. “Takin’ that step.”

Faith didn’t say anything for a second, but she looked at him then, smiling — her shoulders looser, eyes a little clearer— and Joel knew that she was still healing, but that she was getting there. “Thanks.”

She showed him what she was drawing up close, and he listened to her explaining whatever her mom had written down in her journal about the plant she was painting.

Joel listened closely, nodding along as Faith spoke, his gaze flicking between the delicate lines of her drawing and the words she recited from her mom’s notes. He didn’t interrupt, just let her talk, absorbing it all with that quiet kind of attention only Joel could give. It reminded him of Sarah—how she used to come home from school bursting with facts about whatever they were learning, thinking he’d find mitochondria as interesting as she did. And he had, for no other reason than it came from her, just as now with Faith talking to him about some plants.

When Faith finally paused to check something on her drawing’s shading, Joel cleared his throat, easing his weight off his knees and stretching his legs out a little in front of him.

“How was your day with Tommy?” she asked, looking up again.

Joel made a low sound, half a grunt, half a chuckle. “Long,” he admitted. “We got a busted generator to finally quit sparkin’. Had to swap out more parts than we planned, but it’s runnin’ now. And we got the new crank system installed behind the gate.”

Faith nodded, trying not to smile at how he sounded both proud and mildly annoyed after a day of fixing things. “So, not bad then?”

He tilted his head in concession. “Could be worse.”

There was a pause, not exactly awkward—just comfortable.

Then Joel added, carefully “I’m goin’ on patrol with him tomorrow morning. We’ll do a loop just outside the perimeter, get a feel of the area, get to know it.”

Faith looked at him more sharply than she meant to. “You sure you’re ready?”

Joel’s brow lifted, amused. “Thinkin’ I’m not?”

“I didn’t say that,” she muttered, reaching for her charcoal again. But then her expression softened. “Just… be careful.”

It was the first time he’d be leaving Jackson since they arrived. Faith knew that he’d be careful, of course he’d be, but she also got nervous thinking about him going back outside, where the danger always lurked behind a corner. Tommy wouldn’t take up many risks himself, not with Maria pregnant, Faith knew that too… But still, worry tugged at her heart, making it bleed in pain just a bit.

“I always am,” he replied quietly, nudging her side gently—just enough to be felt.

Faith gave him a look but didn’t push away. Instead, she smiled a little to herself and said, “I talked to Ellie today.”

That made Joel straighten slightly. “You did?” He glanced toward the stairs, voice softer now. “She home?”

Faith shook her head. “Nah, she left a little while ago. Said she’d be back later.”

Joel exhaled through his nose. “Huh.”

There was something unreadable in his face. Maybe a bit of hope. A little hesitation. But mostly relief.

Faith set down her pencil and leaned her head lightly against his arm. “She didn’t say much, but… it was a start. I think she’s opening up again.”

Joel let his hand rest on the back of her head for a moment—gentle, grounding, his fingers carding through her now short locks.

“Start’s all we need,” he murmured.

They sat like that for a while longer, the last light slipping through the windows and casting quiet shadows over the room. They had dinner together not much later, something simple Joel had thrown together—some vegetables, some chicken, and a few thick slices of sourdough bread someone from Jackson’s kitchen had passed along that morning. They didn’t talk much while eating, but it wasn’t because they didn’t want to. It was the kind of quiet that settled after a long day, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with anything but presence.

Faith was curled into her chair, one of her legs tucked beneath her, and Joel sat across from her at the small breakfast table, chewing slowly. It was peaceful. The air between them felt light—untethered by grief or worry.

Halfway through the meal, the front door creaked open.

Joel stilled, eyes darting toward the sound. Faith paused with her fork midway to her mouth. They both heard the faint scuffle of shoes on the floor, then the quick shuffle of footsteps heading upstairs.

No words. No knock. Just Ellie, moving like a ghost trying not to disturb the living.

Faith glanced up at Joel, but didn’t say anything. Ellie always waited till they were both done eating, hadn’t sat down for a meal with them in days. They didn’t try to call out for her, because they knew she’d eventually sit with them when she wanted to… Faith just hoped that after having started to talk to her again, she’d sit with them on the table soon, too.

When their plates were scraped clean, Joel stood and stretched, rolling out the ache in his shoulders with a quiet grunt. Faith rose too, slower, careful with the stiffness still clinging to her own shoulder.

“You should head up,” Joel said, reaching for the small bottle the doctor had given her earlier that week. He held it out pointedly, shaking it once. “Take one of these. Remember the doctor said you need rest for that to heal right.”

Faith may have had tried to push her limits the last week, resulting in her being exhausted again. She wanted to start helping around, like Joel was doing, but with her shoulder still healing it wasn’t as easy. The doctor had lectured her about proper healing, and so had Joel after they left the clinic. Faith had put through it, taking a long nap afterwards, knowing they only meant well… but that didn’t stop her from feeling useless.

Faith groaned quietly but took the bottle. “You’re gonna start hovering again, aren’t you?”

“I never stopped,” he said, giving her a wry look as she snatched the pill and downed it with a sip of water. “Good. Go on now. I’ll clean up.”

“You sure?”

He nodded quickly, softly shoving her out of the kitchen. “Go to bed. C’mon.”

Faith turned back slightly, narrowing her eyes at him. “Bossy.”

Joel smirked. “That’s what it takes with you teenagers.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, heading for the hall.

“You’ll thank me when you’re not in agony tomorrow.”

Faith turned halfway at the door, looking back as she gave him a cheeky grin. “You’re not always right, you know.”

Joel gave a soft snort, stacking the dishes in the sink. “No, but I’m right tonight. Go. Bed.”

“Okay, okay,” She rolled her eyes, but her grin diverged into a light smile, her voice softening. “Night, Joel.”

He looked up from the sink, gaze catching hers in the low light.

“’Night, babygirl.”

Faith’s smile lingered as she padded toward the stairs, barefoot and a little more relaxed now that the painkiller was kicking in. Joel watched her go, waiting until he heard her door click shut before he finally started cleaning the dishes, which went fast as they were only two. He made sure to leave Ellie’s plate in the fridge easily for her to find – which also wasn’t hard, as they didn’t have much else in there – and he made his way upstairs too, quiet steps leading him to his own room.

Meanwhile, Faith settled for the night inside her room, slowly, her body aching to lay down again. She was about to toss her sweater onto the back of her chair when something on her bed caught her eye.

Lying neatly on top of her folded blanket was a Walkman. The one Ellie had gotten from Maria. Alongside it was a small square of folded paper, ripped from the corner of a journal.

Faith blinked, then picked it up, unfolding it carefully.

Thought of you. Just press play.

—E.

That was it. No further explanation.

Her throat tightened as she sat down slowly on the edge of her bed, turning the Walkman over in her hands; the tape inside had the band’s name written in it with black ink. The Cranberries.

Huh, fitting.

She slipped the headphones over her ears like she’d seen Ellie do, and pressed the play button.

First there was static. Then a crackle. Then the song started. A low hum of chords. A rising melody. The singer’s voice came in clear — bright and raw, like morning light breaking through a fog.

‘Oh, my life is changing every day, In every possible way…’

Faith sat still, her fingers curled lightly around the Walkman. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe for a second. There was something about the voice — open, emotional, almost aching — that burrowed straight into her chest.

‘And oh my dreams, It's never quite as it seems…’

Faith closed her eyes.

It wasn’t just the words. It was the feeling of it. That someone out there, once upon a time, had written a song that sounded like lightness — like floating above the heaviness for just a moment. Like joy still existed, even after everything.

And Ellie — Ellie — had thought of her when she heard this?

A smile broke across Faith’s face, slow and quiet. A little stunned. So she’d found her a song, after all?

She tilted back on the bed until her head hit the pillow, letting the music wash over her as she stared at the ceiling, the Walkman resting on her stomach.

‘I know I felt like this before… But now I'm feeling it even more, Because it came from you…’

Her eyes prickled.

Not from sadness. Just… from feeling. The kind of feeling that reminded her she wasn’t alone in the world. That someone, someone quiet and guarded and awkward, had picked this song out of everything else and thought, Yeah. This one’s Faith.

And somehow, she’d been right.

‘And now I tell you openly... You have my heart, so don't hurt me… You're what I couldn't find… Totally amazing mind. So understanding and so kind... You're everything to me…’

Ellie had told her she wasn’t good at talking. Not about the soft stuff. But this? This was her way of saying it. Of being there. Of reaching across the silence with a song. The words weren’t romantic. Not in the way Faith understood romance. They didn’t have to be. They were just… real. About trust. About the rare miracle of finding someone who saw you, even with all your cracks.

‘And oh, my dreams… It’s never quite as it seems… ‘Cause you’re a dream to me, dream to me…’

She listened until the song ended, the last choruses fading in the distance as the music died down until there was silence again.

Without really thinking, she sat up straighter, then pushed herself off the bed. The Walkman felt heavy in her hands, like it held more than just music — like it carried all the words Ellie couldn’t say aloud.

An olive branch. That’s what is really was.

In the hallway now, in front of Ellie’s door, she hesitated a moment, then raised a hand and knocked softly. A few heartbeats later, the door cracked open just a little. Ellie’s eyes met hers — surprise flickering there, quickly replaced by something softer, almost hesitant.

When Ellie saw the Walkman in Faith’s hands, her lips parted, but before she could say anything, Faith stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.

Her tears spilled free, warm and sudden, and Ellie’s breath caught. Something inside her broke open too — all the quiet loneliness, the held-back pain, the unsaid words… Everything.

She wrapped her arms around Faith carefully, mindful of the shoulder that still ached, clinging tight like she was afraid this moment might disappear if she let go.

“I’ve missed you,” Faith whispered, her voice trembling.

Ellie’s own tears slipped down. “Me too,” she breathed back.

They stayed like that for a long moment, like two broken pieces fitting together again as they were always meant to be.

Taglist: @kitdjarin1@christinamadsen@abtjudex@hongjoong-titties@cokoladasljesnjakom@puppi-sonnenschein@elisha-chloe@wwefan2002@hello-lisa1026

[freyafrida]

rilla of ingleside, chapter four

war breaks out, here we gooooo

“Rilla felt flattered by Irene’s condescension. She was an Upper Glen girl of nineteen who seemed to like the society of the younger girls—spiteful friends said because she could queen it over them without rivalry.”

This awakened a memory of a girl I knew in high school who was only friends with underclassmen as a senior and had a little gaggle of freshmen following her around at all times. (She wasn't mean, to my memory, but she could be a little condescending, which...might explain that.) Anyway! Very apt and observant of LMM here, the way Rilla is too young and wants approval from people she admires too badly to catch that Irene's friendship isn't sincere.

“Was he coming to her—was he?—was he?—yes, he was!”

In awe of LMM's ability to capture how breathless and excited Rilla is in prose, even though all this drama over Ken is like. lol. Pretty much the entire chunk of the chapter where Rilla is with Ken is so delightfully written -- the rollercoaster of emotion, Rilla wanting to fling herself into the rocks the second she slightly embarrasses herself, it's all really funny but also so real for a teenager.

“canoodling couples were sitting out on the rocks”

"Canoodling" dates back to the 1860s, the more you know.

“Kenneth was a tall lad, very good looking, with a certain careless grace of bearing that somehow made all the other boys seem stiff and awkward by contrast. He was reported to be awesomely clever, with the glamour of a faraway city and a big university hanging around him. He had also the reputation of being a bit of a lady-killer. But that probably accrued to him from his possession of a laughing, velvety voice which no girl could hear without a heartbeat, and a dangerous way of listening as if she were saying something that he had longed all his life to hear. “Is this Rilla-my-Rilla?” he asked in a low tone.”

First of all -- LMAO at Ken swooping in and calling her "Rilla-my-Rilla" -- sometimes I wonder if he actually is a 'lady-killer', as LMM says, because the text really only says that he has that reputation, and it's maybe not even true. But showing up and calling a girl you've barely had a real conversation with "yours" (via nickname) is such a "how you doing" kind of move, lmao -- and then it's followed by Ken thinking about how Rilla is going to be "the beauty of the Ingleside girls after all", which comes off a bit like he's got some kind of running internal question over which Blythe girl is the hottest. Idk, maybe it felt less weird at the time it was written, but it doesn't make a great first impression now! (Sometimes I feel bad joking that he and Rilla are a terrible couple, because his biggest crime in the majority of the book is just being underdeveloped [insert he's just ken joke here], but...yeah, he doesn't come off particularly romantic here, SORRY KEN.)

“So she looked down; and as her lashes were very long and dark and her lids very thick and creamy”

idk what to make of the thickness of Rilla's eyelids apparently being something Ken is into. sure, why not

“Kenneth talked to her as he had talked to Nan and Di.”

...okay, sure, but what about? I am intrigued because as we know, Rilla isn't as educated, or even interested in being as educated, as Nan or Di (or Ken, who's in college). Do they read the same books? Have any of the same interests? Have a similar sense of humor where they can talk about nothing for a while? We never see them sustain a conversation at all, I don't think. (For that matter, what does Rilla even talk to other boys about, actually?)

“‘A merry lilt o’ moonlight for mermaiden revelry,’” quoted Kenneth softly from one of Walter’s poems.”

For the longest time I thought LMM had just made up a line and thrown it in, as this poem doesn't appear in The Blythes are Quoted. However, it's from "The Sea-Shell", which is in a collection called A World of Songs. (Overall interesting choice to quote her brother's poems at her as a form of flirting, lol, although given how Rilla thinks Walter is a better poet than Wordsworth/Tennyson…fair enough, Ken.) (Also, does Walter send Ken his poems or something? Would track with Ken's father being a novelist, and the book later mentions that Ken himself has a gift for writing.)

“[Gertrude] had enjoyed the party herself, after all, for she had foregathered with a Charlottetown acquaintance who, being a stranger and much older than most of the guests, felt himself rather out of it, and had been glad to fall in with this clever girl who could talk of world doings and outside events with the zest and vigour of a man.”

"the zest and vigor of a man" ohhhh boy, I have nothing to add except this is indeed a line.

“A girl’s laugh drifted up from the rocks and died away as if frightened out of existence by the sudden stillness.”

This line is so evocative, you can almost hear it. And here we go, England has declared war on Germany.

“Do you think a war for which Germany has been preparing for twenty years will be over in a few weeks?” said Walter passionately. “This isn’t a paltry struggle in a Balkan corner, Harvey. It is a death grapple. Germany comes to conquer or to die. And do you know what will happen if she conquers? Canada will be a German colony.”

Walter referring to the war as something Germany's been preparing for, and something they have to win lest they be turned into a German colony, feels like an unusual perspective from him. So much of his fear of war is very...general; he's afraid of the violence and ugliness that mars all wars, of the heartbreak the war will bring regardless of who they're fighting -- so it's just interesting to see him actually frame it geopolitically. Wasn't aware he cared about German politics like that! (or that he didn't care about the Balkans like that, jeez.)

I've always understood, like, intellectually that people thought WWI would be over quickly, but I think what really put it into perspective for me was when Russia invaded Ukraine -- obviously not an exact parallel, but I remember idly scrolling Twitter and seeing tons of "Hahaha Russia is going to learn why America doesn't have free healthcare!!!!" jokes and it really struck me like, oh, people were this certain about Britain's military strength and place in the world order in 1914. (And of course, Mary and Miller are the "nothing ever happens" crowd in the corner.)

Ken, like Jem, brings up the war being a family affair, although he seems a little less romantic about it -- more like he's stating the facts of their relationship rather than Jem actively identifying them as England's "cubs". (Although a cut line in Readying Rilla does have Ken saying, "If somebody attacked a fellow's mother", which is then cut off. Interesting direct parallel to Walter jumping Dan Reese for insulting Anne -- and Faith -- in Rainbow Valley.) Jem is actually apparently the most patriotic of the boys, seeing as he's trying to get the Union Jack hoisted as soon as the war is announced.

“Sure I would. You see they’ll go by thousands. Jem’ll be off, I’ll bet a cent—Walter won’t be strong enough yet, I suppose. And Jerry Meredith—he’ll go! Oh, boys! And I was worrying about being out of football this year!”

(The fact that Rilla doesn't grasp the magnitude of the war at all and is timidly asking Ken if it's going to matter to them reeeeeeally brings into relief the differences in their life stages ://// Also, Ken says "Oh, boys!" re: Jem and Jerry enlisting and I just cannot read that as like, a normal thing that anyone would say.)

“Down on the rocks with Jen and Mollie Crawford. Oh, why didn’t they look for me?”

Rilla's then mentioned to be hanging out on the rocks with some "over-harbor friends", apparently Jen and Mollie Crawford?? I wish the book sketched out any of her friendships beyond Gertrude and Irene -- even Una's friendship with her isn't very developed.

“Oh well, you’ll know more about men when you’re as old as I am,” said Mary patronizingly. “Mind you, it doesn’t do to believe all they tell you. Don’t let Ken Ford think that all he has to do to get you on the string is to drop his handkerchief. Have more spirit than that, child.” To be thus hectored and patronized by Mary Vance was unendurable!”

I will say, Mary miiiiight just know what she's talking about re: men, given that Jem was kissing her and Faith in the same week 💀

(I do like that Mary's "not unkind" when helping Rilla! Idk, she is abrasive and obnoxious buuut I find the Blythes to be kind of two-faced about her, lol, like they hang out with her then turn around all, "Well we don't even like her, she's just a habit of ours" -- like, nobody in this friendship is acting right, so I always like when the narration dials back on the negativity around her.)

“Outside, the dawn came greyly in on wings of storm; Captain Josiah, true to his word, ran up the Union Jack at the Four Winds Light and it streamed on the fierce wind against the clouded sky like a gallant unquenchable beacon.”

Such an image :(

glossary stuff (including stuff from earlier chapters that i just found bc this thing is impossible to search 😭)

Readying Rilla bits:

There's a cut line of Ethel Reese saying that Selwyn Ken Ford is "so dashing and citified", lol.

In a cut line, Rilla also fears that Selwyn Ken will call her "Miss Rilla" in a mocking way, among his other teasing nicknames.

Selwyn Ken quoting "The Sea-Shell" was originally not in the draft and added later.

@melodypowers65 pointed out that Ken was already named Ken in Rainbow Valley, so where did Selwyn come from, actually? I want to say I've read somewhere that Selwyn was meant to be a different character (like a Ford cousin?) but I could be making that up entirely. Possible credence to the theory that Rilla was already in the works when LMM was writing Rainbow Valley too? (Although it would be hilarious if Ken was so forgettable that LMM didn't realize that she'd already given him a name. We've finally found someone she forgets more than Shirley.)

Walter originally says "every man woman and child" will feel it (the effects of the war), and then "in Canada" was specified later, which strikes me as funny. It was a world war, LMM, you were right the first time!!

Harvey Crawford (originally called "Laurie" for some reason?) originally says the war will be "over before Christmas" (which is then changed to "in a month or two"). "Over by Christmas" is of course the common phrase associated with how short people thought the war would be, it seems like LMM had it on the mind, but maybe changed it for being too on the nose?

The original reason Jem leaves the party early is because "Faith was tired of the doing thing" (???), which is changed to "Una had a headache." Me too, Una 😔

[and-claudia]

Bound by Winter (Spencer Agnew x fem! Reader) Part 9

Word count: 5100+

Warnings: Periods, mentions of blood, mentions of past conception?? (that is such an odd way to say that...), battle strategies, sword fighting

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header made by yours truly

I was still curled beneath the thick furs, buried into Spencer’s side, half-asleep and too warm to care about the outside world. His breathing was steady beneath my cheek, one arm lazily thrown around my back. The cat—Jack—was wedged like a furry stone at our feet, purring in his sleep.

It should have been perfect. But something felt… off. A cramp twisted in my lower belly, familiar and unmistakable. I froze. Oh no. Very carefully, I wriggled free from Spencer’s arm and shifted to sit up. The movement made everything worse—the ache, the heat, the awful sinking realization that I had miscounted the days. Badly. I winced and glanced down, already dreading what I might see. His trousers. I was still wearing them. And now they were— “Seven hells,” I whispered, horrified. Spencer stirred behind me. “What?” “Nothing,” I said quickly, reaching for the blankets to cover myself. “I—it’s fine. I just—uhm—” He sat up, blinking away sleep, hair sticking out in every direction. “Did you hurt yourself?” “No!” I squeaked, cheeks already burning. “I just— I got my moons. I didn’t realize it would be today, and I… I was still wearing your clothes, and—Spencer, I’m so sorry.” He blinked again. Then looked at me. Then down at the trousers. And then—he smiled. “…That’s it?” I stared at him, mortified. “What do you mean that’s it?” “I thought Jack threw up in my boots.” He leaned back against the pillows with a groan, one hand running over his face. “You scared me.” “Spencer,” I hissed, wrapping the blanket tighter around myself. “I bled in your clothes.” “So? It’s blood. Everyone bleeds. Some people just do it more politely than others.” I buried my face in my hands. “That’s not funny.” “I wasn’t trying to be funny. You don’t have to apologize.” His voice gentled, eyes softening as he looked at me. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You live here. You’re allowed to bleed on my clothes. Or my floors. Or my boots—though preferably not the boots.”

Despite myself, a laugh bubbled up. “You’re disgusting.”

He grinned. “Takes one to marry one.”

He nudged my knee under the blanket. “Go change. I’ll toss the trousers in the laundry and see if Maester Tommy still has that tea he gave you last time. Or I could just make you some of that terrible bitter stuff you hate.”

“I... would like that,” I admitted quietly. “Thank you.”

He gave me a small, genuine smile. “It’s just blood, sweetheart. I’ve seen it enough on the battlefield. Doesn’t scare me. You certainly don’t.”

And somehow, that made everything a little less embarrassing.

I went to the washroom and found some of the monthly cloths I kept in there for emergencies. I got changed, and when I came out, stained pants in hand, Spencer took them without a word and added them to the rest of the dirty laundry. He was partly dressed now. 

“I have a few things I need to take care of, might as well get them done now. Go lie back down for a bit, I’ll have your tea brought to you soon. You’re welcome to steal another pair of pants, just try to keep these ones clean.” He teased before pressing a kiss to my forehead. 

I had laid back in bed until a servant came with my tea, then I moved to sit in Spencer’s chair closer to the hearth. I was curled into it, thickly wrapped in my robe, hands cradling a cup of Maester Tommy’s awful moon tea. It still tasted like over-steeped bark, but at least it was warm.

Angela burst in first, arms laden with folded linens, followed closely by Arasha carrying a little tray of food from the kitchens.

“I brought more cloths,” Angela announced. “Even the thick ones we keep locked away like precious treasure.”

She set them down on the, then paused. I turned in my chair to see her standing there, eyebrows furrowed. “Wait. You’re only three weeks since the last— You're early.”

“Believe me, I noticed,” I muttered, leaning my head against the chair back.

Arasha set the balm on the table and exchanged a look with Angela. “You’re always like clockwork. Did you overexert yesterday? Too much ale during the game?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “Caught me by surprise. Completely. Woke up wearing Spencer’s trousers and—well... it hit.”

Angela blinked. “You mean you—?”

“Bled straight through his pants,” I said flatly, lifting the cup to my lips. “While wearing them.”

For half a second, they both froze.

Then:

“Oh nooo,” Angela gasped, covering her mouth, eyes wide.

Arasha winced. “Seven hells. What did he do?”

I hesitated, a little smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. “He told me it was fine. Said it was just blood, and everyone bleeds. Then offered to go find me the awful tea.”

Angela blinked again. “He what?”

I shrugged.

“You bled in his trousers and he made you tea?”

“Well. He threatened to make tea. It was more about the gesture.”

Arasha sat down hard on the footstool. “Most men gag if you even mention your moons.”

“Exactly!” Angela threw her hands up. “I once sneezed near a guard at Seastar Hold while I was on my time, and he accused me of trying to curse him. And Spencer just... didn’t care?”

“He said—and I quote—‘you live here, you’re allowed to bleed on my clothes.’”

Angela melted into the bedding. “Oh gods. That’s it. He’s perfect. Disgusting, sarcastic, emotionally stunted—but perfect.”

Arasha nodded solemnly. “He’ll make a fine father one day.”

“Don’t say that out loud,” I said quickly, face warming. “He’ll hear you through the walls and panic.”

Angela chuckled. “You’re already wearing his clothes, bleeding in them, and stealing his bed space. At this point, he’s doomed.”

“Don’t remind me.”

But as they chattered and bickered about whether they should knit me a moon cushion or steal me better tea, I leaned back into the chair and smiled—because for once, the ache in my belly didn’t feel so heavy, and neither did the weight of the day. 

Minutes passed by as Arasha and Angela continued talking back and forth. 

Angela was halfway through mimicking Spencer’s voice with a dramatic flourish—“‘You live here, you’re allowed to bleed on my clothes,’” she said in a deep, brooding tone, waving a hand in the air like a bard in a tavern.

“That’s not what I sound like,” came a very real voice from the doorway.

All three of us froze.

Spencer stood there, one brow raised, a roll of parchment in his hand, his snow-damp cloak dripping just slightly on the stone floor. Behind him, poor Maester Tommy trailed with a sheepish smile and a satchel of gods-know-what. Probably more disgusting tea.

“Maker’s mercy,” Arasha muttered under her breath.

Angela opened her mouth to speak—then closed it again, unsure whether to apologize or double down.

“I was just—” she started but fumbled trying to explain herself.

Spencer walked fully into the room, set the parchment on the table beside my tea, and looked at me. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’ve been worse,” I said, still clutching the warm mug like a lifeline.

He nodded once, then glanced at Angela. “For the record, I don’t sound like that. And if you want to reenact me, get the sarcasm right.”

Angela blinked. “You’re... not upset?”

He shrugged. “You’re making her laugh, and she’s not curled up in pain or crying, so... no.”

That stunned all of us into silence for a beat.

Then Spencer smirked, reached out to steal a honey biscuit off the tray that Arasha brought in with her, and added, “Also, I checked. Those were my least favorite pair of pants.”

He left the room before any of us could respond.

Angela turned to me, wide-eyed. “He is doomed.”

By early afternoon, the keep had gone quiet again. Angela and Arasha had been called away to help with something in the kitchen, and the fire crackled low in the hearth. I’d changed into one of my warmer nightgowns, Spencer’s thickest tunic draped over it, sleeves nearly swallowing my hands. 

I had braved the cold corridors and now sat in mine and Spencer’s private solar. My legs were curled beneath me on the cushioned window bench, the open pages of a worn book in my lap. 

The book had been titled “On the Lives and Lineages of the Northern Houses”, but it read more like a gossip log disguised as history. I flipped a page, sipping lukewarm tea, and then paused at a particularly blunt paragraph:

“It is noted that Caerwatch Keep, due to the severity of its winters, sees a significant rise in conception rates between the third and fifth month of the cold season, often attributed to the long nights, thick furs, and lack of diversion.”

I raised a brow. “Lack of diversion,” I repeated aloud. “Interesting way to say ‘snowed in and bored.’”

Further down the page, scribbled in a different hand, was an old margin note:

Eight children born within the same month in 181 AC. Seven were sons. Coincidence?

I snorted and flipped another page.

There was more here, though—something about Caerwatch predating some of the known northern keeps, once rumored to be an old Watch fortress before it was given to the Agnews. There were passing references to "The Thorn Pact" and “The Winter Accord,” both underlined, but without much elaboration.

I made a mental note to ask Spencer—when he wasn't busy pulling ravens out of the snow or arguing with Damien about firewood distribution.

Just as I leaned forward to squint at a faded family tree carved into the parchment, a low voice spoke behind me:

“Do I want to know why you’re blushing while reading about birth records?”

I turned and found Spencer standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, a faint smirk playing at his lips. His hair was tousled, cheeks flushed from the cold, and his cloak smelled of woodsmoke and winter air.

I held up the book. “Did you know most children here are conceived during winter?”

He walked over, eyeing the text. “Not surprising. Everyone’s trapped inside for months, the walls are thick, and the ale supply doesn’t run out until at least month five.”

I tilted my head. “Is that how the Agnews kept their bloodline strong? Strategic snowstorms?”

Spencer laughed under his breath, crouching beside the bench. “Probably. We’re not known for our diplomacy.”

I tapped a line in the margins. “What’s ‘The Thorn Pact’? It doesn’t explain it here.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Old history. Very old. I don’t even think Maester Tommy’s read that far yet.”

“But you know?”

His silence confirmed it.

“Carewatch wasn’t always just a noble house, was it?” I asked quietly.

“No,” he said finally. “But that’s a tale best saved for stormier nights.”

I grinned. “Is that a promise?”

“It’s a stall tactic,” he replied. “But I’ll find the records. Or tell you myself—if you pour me a cup of whatever you’ve been hoarding in here.”

“Well, right now that would be what’s left of my tea, but that’s just about gone cold… but I do believe there’s a flagon of wine over there on table,” I said, nodding over at it. 

He went over and poured himself a glass before coming to sit beside me. I leaned against his side, the pages of the heavy book now open across both our laps. Snow swirled furiously beyond the window, a white curtain over the valley.

My fingers traced the faded ink of some long-forgotten house—extinct now, according to the handwritten note in the margin.

“Here,” Spencer murmured, flipping forward a few more pages. “House Agnew.”

I sat up a little straighter as the familiar name stretched in blocky calligraphy across the top of the right-hand page. The first half listed a long line of Lords, each neatly dated and annotated with their deeds, alliances, and heirs.

Spencer’s name was near the bottom.

“Lord Spencer Thorne Agnew, born to Lord Varris Agnew and Lady Norra of House Crowmere. Wed to—” he paused, and I leaned in closer.

“Wed to Lady YN,” I read aloud, then smiled at the elegant rendering of my name, carefully inked in a newer hand. The date of our wedding followed, but the rest of the line remained blank. 

“For now,” Spencer added. “Just us.”

I studied the page, fingers brushing over the empty space beside our names. Then, in a half-laugh, I said, “We should add Jack.”

He looked at me.

“Our first child,” I added, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Spencer raised a brow. “The cat?”

“He’s warm, he’s loud, he likes to sleep on your side of the bed. That’s practically our son.”

Spencer snorted. “If we start adding pets, this page’ll be filled before we ever have a child with our nose.”

I gasped. “You think he has my nose?”

“I think he has my attitude,” Spencer replied dryly. “Which is worse.”

I swatted his arm with a grin, and he caught my wrist, holding it between us for a moment.

There was something about the weight of the book, the fire, the silence of the snowstorm around the Keep—it made everything feel settled. Still. Safe. I found myself glancing back down at the open page, that clean stretch of parchment waiting to be filled.

“I wonder what this will look like in a hundred years,” I said softly. “If someone else finds this book.”

Spencer’s gaze shifted, too, his expression unreadable but not unfeeling. “Hopefully still warm. Still guarded.”

“Still loved,” I added.

He didn't say anything, just rested his arm behind me again and let me curl back into his side. The fire crackled, the snow blew harder against the windows, and somewhere deep in the Keep, Jack the cat yowled for attention.

Spencer sighed. “Your son is calling.”

I laughed against his shoulder, and neither of us moved for a long while. 

Jack yowled again, louder this time. Then came the soft sound of claws scrabbling against the solar door. Spencer groaned.

“I swear he can sense peace and ruin it on purpose.”

“Your attitude, like you said,” I replied, smirking. 

He rose reluctantly, muttering under his breath as he opened the heavy door—only for Jack to slink in like royalty, tail high and snowflakes still clinging to his fur. Without hesitation, the cat padded straight for the hearth and leapt into my lap, circling once before settling across the book like he owned it.

“Unbelievable,” Spencer muttered. “Trained soldier and he’s still outranked by a cat.”

I was laughing too hard to answer right away, especially as Jack blinked slowly at Spencer with smug contentment, clearly victorious.

Then Spencer looked down at the open page again—our page—and cocked his head.

“You know what?” he said, settling back down beside me and reaching into the side pocket of his coat. He produced a charcoal stylus, the kind the Maester left around the keep for annotating books and lists.

“What are you doing?” I asked, amused but also a little alarmed.

“Leaving our mark.” He carefully leaned over the page, stylus poised, and in the blank space just beneath our names, in smaller script than the official scribe’s, he wrote:

-and Jack, their first son, bane of peace, hoarder of warmth.

I burst out laughing. “Spencer!”

He grinned, dotting the end of the sentence with an exaggerated flourish. “Future generations deserve to know the truth.”

“You do realize Maester Tommy is going to find this, right?”

“That’s the goal.”

As if summoned, Jack let out a pleased little prrrr and nuzzled my arm.

“Well, if he’s going in the record, I suppose we’ll have to train him to sit still for a portrait,” I said.

“Oh, I’d pay good coin to watch you try.”

We laughed until our sides hurt, and Jack stretched between us like he’d accomplished something grand.

Somewhere far off, the blizzard howled through the mountains, but in the firelit solar, history was being… mildly vandalized—with affection. 

Soon, we migrated back to our chambers as the storm raged on outside. The wind outside howled like a creature denied its meal, sharp and relentless against the stone walls. Snow lashed the high windows, and the fire in the hearth crackled low, casting flickering light across the bed where Spencer and I lay tangled in silence, sharing the warmth beneath furs and wool.

I shifted slightly, curled on my side, watching him as he stared toward the darkened ceiling. His hand rested on my hip, fingers lightly brushing through the linen of his own shirt, which I’d stolen again. The silence wasn’t heavy—it was thoughtful. And familiar. We’d grown comfortable like this, especially during these long winter nights.

“I know you said you’d save it for a stormier night, but I can’t sleep, will you tell about it?” I said quietly, breaking the hush. “About the Thorn Pact.”

I waited. Spencer didn’t rush stories. He never spoke unless he had something worth saying. When he did, it was sharp, and it stayed with you.

Eventually, he shifted onto his back, arm tucked behind his head.

“The Thorn Pact is older than our house name. Before we were Agnew, we were just the Watch,” he began, his voice low and even. “Back when the North was fractured and monsters still wandered into men’s halls.”

My brows lifted. “Monsters?”

He nodded slowly. “Not dragons or demons. Men. Raiders from the Frostfens. The Lost Clans. Maybe even things worse. But Caerwatch wasn’t always a keep. It was a signal tower. Just one of several across the mountain valley. We were the last outpost before the edge of the known lands.”

I listened, curled closer.

“They say the men posted here began marking their skin to tell their story—every kill, every vow, every betrayal. When they broke from the high kings of the Reach and chose to defend this land on their own, they sealed it in blood. The Thorn Pact. Each man swore to watch the valley. To never run. To never let darkness pass through unseen.”

I thought of his tattoos. Of the thorns curled behind his left shoulder. The one I hadn’t seen until after our first night together. The one I had yet to ask about. The one he never explained.

“It wasn’t a noble name back then. Just men too stubborn to flee. Men who buried their dead with stone markers carved like thorns, so they wouldn’t be forgotten.”

I swallowed. “And your house carries that vow?”

Spencer’s jaw flexed, and he finally looked at me.

“We don’t speak of it to outsiders. Most of the North forgets. But the Agnews still mark our dead with a thorn.” He hesitated, then said, quieter still, “And the ones who’ve earned it carve the vow into skin. Like the Watch before us.”

I reached for his hand beneath the blankets. Found it, cold but steady.

“And what’s the vow?” I asked.

He looked at me for a long moment, firelight catching in his eyes.

“Hold fast. Guard the pass. Bleed before the gate breaks.”

Silence stretched again, this time heavier. Not from discomfort—but from understanding.

He hadn’t just inherited a keep. He’d inherited a duty.

I let my head rest against his shoulder. “That’s why you stayed,” I said softly. “Even when it would’ve been easier to leave.”

His arm came around me, pulling me closer.

“That’s why I stay now,” he said. “Thorns don’t bloom. But they hold the line.”

And there, in the storm-battered stillness of Caerwatch, I realized I was married not just to a man—but to the last vow of something ancient and unyielding.

And it made me love him all the more.

The next morning, it was barely past breakfast when Spencer came to find me, still half-dressed from his early training session, boots caked in frost and hair damp with snowmelt. The training yard had been cleared just enough to run drills in. 

“There’s something I want to show you,” he said, voice calm but eyes bright with purpose.

I set my cup down, curious. “Oh? A secret chamber?” I teased. 

“No,” he smirked. “Not unless you count the one where all my secrets are spread across a very large carved table.”

That earned a raised brow from me. “Should I be worried?”

He didn’t answer, just gestured for me to follow. I picked up my cup of tea and took one last sip before standing up and following him out of the room.

He led me down the winding western stairs, through a corridor I hadn’t spent much time in yet — colder, quieter, its sconces unlit and its stone lined with ancient shields and weathered maps framed in thick glass. At the end of the hall, he pushed open a tall set of oak doors with iron studs, and I stepped into a vast room that took my breath away.

The War Room.

A large, oval-shaped table dominated the center — carved entirely from dark wood, but inlaid with ridged stone and metalwork to resemble the landscape of Virelia itself. Mountains reared up near the north, river valleys snaked through the center, and cities and strongholds were marked by carved pieces that could be moved across the map.

It was stunning. Imposing. Alive in a way only something steeped in blood and memory could be.

“Gods,” I murmured, stepping forward, fingers brushing along the etched coastline. “I’ve never seen one this detailed.”

Spencer watched me from across the table, one hip braced against the edge. “Few are. This room belonged to my grandfather. He had it carved during the last years of the Great Frost. It’s only used when the Lords of Caerwatch lead their forces themselves.”

I looked up, meeting his gaze. “Why bring me here?”

His expression softened slightly, but there was still steel behind his voice. “Because I want to know what you’d do.”

He motioned to the board. Small carved figurines had already been arranged — tiny northern banners near the top edge of the table, marked for Rhett’s and Link’s encampments, and a third banner I recognized as Spencer’s own, set a short distance from theirs. The south, meanwhile, was littered with red and black pieces — the enemies’ forces, thick and clustered like storm clouds.

“I’ll give you the numbers. You give me your plans.”

I blinked. “Wait—seriously?”

He gave a half shrug. “You’re on the war council, aren’t you?”

Warmth flared somewhere beneath my ribs. He wasn’t humoring me. He meant it.

He started with the first scenario:

“There are rumors of an advance column moving north along the eastern rivers,” Spencer said, moving the red pieces accordingly. “They’d likely try to avoid open terrain and circle behind Rhett’s camp. If they time it with a storm, we could lose visibility for days.”

I studied the map, chewing my lip. “I’d move archers here—” I pointed to a ridge just west of the river crossing. “High enough to see movement. If we give them barrels of pitch and oil, they could light the brush on fire if the enemy tries to pass.”

Spencer’s brows rose.

“And place scouts here and here,” I added, tapping two side routes. “Keep them on horseback. Short-range signaling only.”

He gave a short whistle. “Using fire as a barrier rather than a weapon. Clever.”

I shrugged. “My uncle used it in the Stormwake siege years ago. Worked well enough to make the enemies flee uphill into waiting swords.”

He nodded, then reached over the table and slid several enemy pieces forward. “Say they get bold. Try to break through the mountain pass before the melt. Their thinking would be: We’re caught off guard. Resources are thin. They want to force our hand.”

“Which would be stupid,” I muttered, already moving Spencer’s banner and a few of Link’s. “But not impossible.”

“I want to know how you’d hold them.”

“I wouldn’t,” I said simply.

Spencer tilted his head. “You’d… let them in?”

“Let them think they’ve pushed through,” I clarified. “Then pull your front forces back slowly, like they’re retreating. Lure them into the pass itself. Then close in from both sides.”

He stared at me.

“And archers,” I said, tapping the snowy ledges above the pass. “This high? They’d rain hell down.”

He exhaled. “Remind me to never cross you.” 

I smiled to myself, knowing that I must have been doing well with my suggested strategies. 

But the feeling was fleeting as I watched Spencer. His face grew serious as he moved red pieces closer to the North.

“This one’s worst-case,” he said. “If the enemy gets as far as Caerwatch during the spring melt. Say they bring siege towers and siege fire.”

I swallowed. “That close?”

“It’s happened before.”

I leaned over the table, eyeing the walls and towers etched into the carving. “You move civilians down into the undercellars immediately. Then, triple patrols along the inner wall. You position your heaviest archers on the south tower because the wind here—” I pointed to the ridge— “will carry their fire higher. And you flood the valley gate basin.”

Spencer blinked. “Flood it?”

“You said it yourself—it’s sloped.” I pointed again. “Divert meltwater through the old aqueducts. Flood the approach. It slows siege towers and chokes cavalry.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then finally:

“You knew about the aqueducts?”

I smiled faintly. “I asked Maester Tommy about the drainage lines two weeks ago. Just in case.”

He laughed—low, genuine, impressed.

“I have to say…” he said, looking back at the board. “You’ve got the mind of a commander. And the archers—your strategy with them—it’s sharp. No wonder your uncle’s men have a reputation.”

I felt heat in my cheeks, but didn’t look away. “You’re not so bad at this yourself, Lord Agnew.”

He smirked, shaking his head. 

“We’ll continue this throughout winter, as I hear from your father and your uncle’s scouts. Different scenarios the enemies may attempt come spring. This way, gods on our side, we’ll be ready.” He said after a moment, and I nodded. 

“I have to go, there are some squires I’m training soon.” He said. 

I nodded once again, mind wandering off to what I was going to do with the rest of my morning. 

“Care to join me? We can run some drills before they arrive?” He asked, raising a brow at me. 

I blinked, glancing down at myself—heavy boots, fitted pants beneath my winter cloak. Not exactly dressed for sparring.

“I haven’t had nearly enough training,” I replied, stepping down from the stairs.

“You’ve had enough for me to go easy on you,” he said. “And if I remember correctly, you were complaining the other day about being sore and miserable.”

“That’s not exactly what I said—”

“Close enough,” he cut in with a small smirk. “Come on. A little blood and bruising does wonders for cramps. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Oh really? And where did you hear that?” I asked, following him out of the war room. 

He shrugged, “Doesn’t matter, I’m getting you to spar with me, aren’t I?” 

I smiled and shook my head, and allowed him to lead me out to the training yard. 

“Don’t hold back just because I’m—” I began once we arrived. 

“Your husband?” he offered, raising an eyebrow. “Or because you look beautiful even when your nose is red and you’re bundled in half your wardrobe?”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to smile. “Because I’m new at this.”

He grinned. “Noted.”

We circled each other once, boots crunching in the frost-bitten snow, and I could already feel the thrill prickling through my chest. He moved slower than he normally would, but not slow enough to insult me.

Our swords clashed once. Then twice. I adjusted my stance like Courtney had taught me—balance in my legs, blade close to my body—but Spencer was fast. He knocked my sword back with little effort, his gaze tracking every movement, like he was memorizing it.

“You’re dropping your left shoulder,” he said softly. “Gives me an easy opening to sweep you.”

“Noted,” I muttered, squaring up again.

We clashed once more, a longer flurry this time. When our swords locked together, I glanced up at him quickly—then deliberately tilted my head and smiled. “Is this close enough for a kiss?”

He blinked.

And I struck. Just a quick, off-balance twist of my wrist that knocked his sword out of alignment and gave me an opening to land a tap on his ribs.

He stumbled back with a laugh. “That was cheap.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes.”

“Then it wasn’t cheap. It was smart.”

He tossed his head back, still laughing, then lunged toward me without warning. This time he didn’t go easy.

We danced through three more passes before he finally had me. His sword slid beneath mine, knocked it clean from my hands, and I found myself spun around with a firm arm braced against my back to keep me from slipping in the snow.

“Yield?” he asked, voice low near my ear.

I huffed, breathless and flushed. “Fine. You win.”

He let me go, retrieving my sword from the snow and brushing it off before handing it back to me with a grin that had more pride than gloating.

“Better,” he said, voice gentler now. “Much better. That twist? Caught me off guard.”

“I told you I was paying attention during my lessons.”

“You were. But I think I’m going to need to keep sparring with you, just to be sure you’re not collecting other husbands’ tricks.”

I snorted. “Don’t tempt me.”

We stood together a while longer, my breathing beginning to slow. The flush of exertion had done something to ease the ache I’d woken with that morning—not just physical, but the heavy, dragging sort that winter often brought with it.

“You were holding back, weren’t you?” I asked.

He hesitated. “A little.”

“I’m not fragile, Spencer.”

“I know.” He turned to face me more fully. “I know you’re not. But you’re still new to this. And I—” He trailed off for a beat, rubbing the back of his neck. “I offered to spar before I remembered how much I hate the idea of hitting you. Even on accident.”

I looked up at him, quiet for a breath. “I’ve been hit before. Lady Courtney has bruised my shoulder so many times it’s basically part of my coat lining.”

“Still.”

I nudged him. “I want to learn. And I want to learn from you. You’re better at this than anyone I know.”

He didn’t respond right away—just nodded slowly and reached for my wrist, gently adjusting the grip of my hand around the wooden hilt.

“Then I’ll teach you,” he said softly. “Every move I know. Every trick I’ve learned. You’ll be better than half the men here by spring.”

“And the other half?”

He smiled faintly. “They’ll have to learn not to underestimate Lady Agnew.”

A/n: I know you lot are thirsty for another smut fic... do not fret my horny friends, one is coming (pun intended) part 11 will be smut!! Also for those curious, work started and is going well (can you tell I wrote this one after my period started and needed to project?? TEEHEE, anyways like I said work is going good, I am working a lot of hours (above part time even though I am only part time) because I am getting my training done (its a soap store so there's a lot of liability stuff and recipes to train me on) plus it is a manager position (idk how I walked into this position tbh but its exciting!!) so there's extra stuff to train me on. I got to make bathbombs yesterday, which was fun, and only 2 out of my 33 broke!! So pretty good!!

Taglist: @fan-g0rl, @spennininomenon @mazzyowl @burrowedinnature77 @apollothegod22 @scratch-and-sniff-ghost33 @areyoutheregoditsmecelia @cloverrwritess @readerihardlyknowher @lovergurl4life @goblynnrockz @ahhhiscute @happyclifford @jellysmosh @talkativecarnation @ladybugonfilm @teenyfinds @chamomiletea11 @hot-dino-nuggies

[slaymitchabernathy]

Nothing to Lose

| this drabble contains sexual content ;) |

Coriolanus has his eyes set on something.

Someone.

He noticed her immediately when he and his friends arrived at the club. She's hard to miss when she's dressed like that, wearing near to nothing but a corset with thigh-high stockings and a lacy bralette that leaves very little to the imagination.

There are other girls at the club as well, dressed the same way, doing the same things. This one is different though, he doesn't know why, but she is. He has to have her.

"How about another round of drinks?" He suggests to his friends who are already drunk. They came to celebrate the end of another grueling work week. It's not easy being a politician but clubs like this, exclusive places, make it a little bit easier. With the heightened security and well-trained staff, he feels perfectly safe here, surrounded by drunk men and scantily dressed women.

"Sure," Festus easily agrees, waving over a waitress. He's already had three drinks, but who's counting? "Another round for you gentlemen?" The waitress sweetly asks, batting her eyelashes. She's dressed in the shortest skirt Coriolanus has ever seen and is wearing bright eye makeup.

"Yes, please. Who's that over there?" Coriolanus inquires, nodding at the girl who's caught his eye. Her blonde hair is hard to miss and so is her easygoing smile. The waitress follows his gaze, "Oh, that's Soarynn. Would you like her to come over here?"

"That would be wonderful."

Coriolanus isn't above winning over hearts himself, but he also isn't above getting a little help now and then. If this waitress wants to help him out, he won't be the one to stop her.

She goes to fetch the drinks and her friend, leading Festus and Felix to give Coriolanus teasing looks. "Really? Sending the waitress to do your dirty work?"

He waves them off. "She offered."

They all watch the waitress approach Soarynn and whisper something in her ear. Soarynn's eyebrows raise and she looks over at them before she nods, saying something in return.

Their drinks come out before Soarynn does. Apparently, she had to go speak with their boss first. For what, Coriolanus has no idea until they both show up at their table. Coriolanus eyes the boss who happens to be the owner of the club up and down. He's dressed rather nicely for running an establishment such as this one, filled with burlesque dancers and waitresses.

Soarynn stands next to him, hands behind her back, head down.

"I heard Coriolanus Snow was asking for one of my girls," the owner explains, "and I just had to greet him myself." Coriolanus fakes a smile, not really caring for this man or his greeting. "Consider me welcomed."

"My name is Casca Highbottom, if there's ever anything I can do for you, Mr. Snow, please let me know." Highbottom holds his hand out leaving Coriolanus with nothing to do but shake it to avoid causing a scene. Better to stay on this man's good side since he frequents the club quite often.

"Thank you, Mr. Highbottom. I'll keep that in mind."

Highbottom smiles but it's a strange smile, a smile that Coriolanus doesn't trust one bit. Now is not the time to investigate though so he just smiles back and shakes his hand. "She's all yours," he says, giving Soarynn a push towards the table of men.

Soarynn to her credit, lays on the charm immediately, doing an excellent job given the circumstances. "I've never met a Snow before," she purrs, leaning against the table, "but I've heard a lot about you."

Highbottom finally fucking leaves and Coriolanus leans back in his seat, all too comfortable with the power he holds. "What've you heard about me, doll?"

Soarynn tilts her head, almost like a lost puppy. "That you always land on top." Festus barks out a laugh, almost choking on his drink. "Yeah, he's been saying that shit since the University." Coriolanus elblows him to prevent any more embarrassing stories. "It's true though, I've managed to stay on top despite all the odds."

He wonders if Soarynn can relate, or if she's used to being stuck at the bottom.

"Sounds like you're an important man," she replies, dragging her fingers along the edge of the table.

Coriolanus can see her much better in this light although it's still dark in the room. Her outfit is even more provocative up close. Her breasts nearly spill out of her bralette, and the corset looks like it's one size too tight on her. There are frills on the edges, almost making it look like the shortest dress in the world. As his eyes travel down her body, he comes to the realization that she's not wearing a skirt, only panties. Lace, of course.

"I am," he answers, "and my lap is terribly empty."

꧁ ꧂

Drinking always makes time go by faster, but when you have a pretty girl in your lap, it goes by even quicker. Coriolanus is intoxicated with Soarynn and her sweetness. She smells so good, like vanilla and something else. Her laugh is infectious and her smile is contagious.

She's more than comfortable sitting in his lap while he plays a game of cards with his friends and some other patrons, all of who keep eyeing her up and down with jealousy.

Coriolanus keeps a possessive hand on her waist at all times while her ass is pressed against his growing boner, an issue that she isn't helping him resolve by constantly wiggling her hips back and forth.

"I think you're bluffing," Felix calls from across the table which means he has shitty cards and won't be winning anything this round. Coriolanus bites back a grin, not taking the bait. Soarynn leans back to look at his cards but doesn't say anything either since she said she doesn't understand any of these card games.

"Are you winning?" She whispers, brushing the shell of his ear with her lips. Coriolanus shudders involuntarily, used to being the one in control. He is in control, but she's been playing these fucking mind games with him since the moment she sat down in his lap.

"I am," he gets out, tightening his grip on her waist. "Looks like you're my lucky charm." More giggles fill his ear and the buttons on his shirt magically become unbuttoned by her deft fingers. "Maybe after this game, we could go somewhere more private," Soarynn whispers, grinding down on his lap.

Coriolanus swears under his breath, not wanting to lose control in front of all of these men. Definitely not when he's about to win either.

"That can be arranged."

It only takes two more rounds for Coriolanus to show his winning hand and collect his winnings. He tucks a few bills into Soarynn's bralette and her stockings. "For bringing me luck," he explains. He excuses himself from the table and the prying eyes. Soarynn takes his large hand and pulls him towards the back of the club where he knows they have private rooms. Coriolanus follows her blindly, admiring how she looks from behind.

He's much taller than her even though she's wearing high heels. "I've never seen someone win so easily," she says to him over the noise. Coriolanus does his best to look nonchalant, it's really just luck at the end of the day, but he also knows how to play his cards right.

All you have to do is play like you have nothing to lose, in life, and in the club.

"It's like you said, angel, Snow lands on top."

More giggles spill from her lips and they disappear behind a curtain into a long hallway of doors leading to a private room. "The biggest one is at the end of the hallway." Coriolanus is more than pleased with the accommodations he's met with when they walk into the room.

There's a bed, sofa, table with chairs and a beverage cart with all his favorite drinks. "Whiskey or bourbon?" He lets go of her hand and sits down on the sofa, legs spread, guard down. "You can pick." Soarynn smiles, grabbing the bottle of whiskey.

"How long have you been working here?"

"A few months," she shrugs, pouring him a glass. "It pays well, and I like the crowd it brings in." Coriolanus doesn't know what that's supposed to mean. Is it good to be a part of that crowd?

"What type of crowd?"

She brings over his drink and makes herself comfortable on his right leg, sitting on his thigh. "Rich men," she answers without hesitation, "powerful men, attractive men. Men who like to take care of girls like me."

Coriolanus takes the glass from her and uses his other hand to grab her throat, not choking her, just holding her still. "And what type of girl are you, Soarynn?" Most girls would be shaking in fear from his actions, but Soarynn just keeps on smiling. "I'm a good girl, Mr. Snow."

Coriolanus rolls his eyes, not believing her for a second. They both know exactly what kind of girl she is. "Then be a good girl and take care of the problem you've created, doll."

His cock is straining in his pants, desperate for a release. Soarynn obeys his orders, gracefully sliding off his leg and onto the hardwood floor. Coriolanus watches her dainty little hands go up and down his thighs, teasing him further.

It's a most glorious sight to see a woman like Soarynn on her knees for him. With bills between her breasts and her big blue eyes looking up at him like she's some fallen angel. Her light blonde hair is almost like a halo.

She finally grabs his belt and unbuckles it with ease, almost like she's done this before. He decides not to think about that, about the other men she's slept with before him because there won't ever be anyone else after him.

"You're bigger than most," she murmurs, peeling back his boxers along with his pants. Coriolanus chuckles at that little comment. He's heard that before. His cock is red at the tip, already leaking with precum after being teased for so fucking long. "I like my blowjobs to be thorough," he informs her, adopting a stricter tone, "and watch your teeth."

Soarynn bares her pearly whites in a teasing smile that he doesn't find to be too funny. "Relax," she says, "I know what I'm doing."

"I'll be the judge of that, darling."

Soarynn takes a firm hold of his cock, stroking him up and down while bringing her lips to the tip. Her tongue darts out Coriolanus almost drops his whiskey when she starts working on his tip.

She's a fucking natural.

Soarynn takes him into her mouth after a good minute of teasing and she easily bobs her head up and down his long length. Coriolanus has been told by many women how big he is, how hard it is to take all of him at once. Soarynn is clearly not like other women. With one hand still free, Coriolanus grabs a fistful of her hair so he can set the pace.

Soarynn lets out what sounds like a whine of protest, but her mouth is full at the moment, so he ignores it. "That's right, just like that," he breathes, tilting his head back. If he knew he could get drinks and a blowjob at the club, he would've started coming here years ago.

Soarynn gags when he pushes her head all the way down, keeping it there for a good ten seconds. Part of him waits for her to fight him against it, to try and pull away but she takes it like the good girl she claims to be.

Not much else is needed once she starts using her other hand to stroke the remaining length of his cock. Coriolanus comes undone with a loud moan while spilling down Soarynn's throat, tightening his grip on her hair. She doesn't waste a single drop, swallowing it all like a proper whore. Coriolanus sits back on the sofa, utterly exhausted after that.

"Well," he clears his throat, "I suppose you did know what you were doing."

Soarynn grins up at him, her appearance is still impeccable for someone whose throat just got fucked. "I told you." He pats his thigh, inviting her to come sit again and she happily obliges. He makes sure to clean himself off first and pull his pants back on just in case they experience a rude interruption.

The door locks but he doubts it'll hold if someone really wants to get inside. The lock is more of a courtesy if anything.

Soarynn cozies right up to him, settling down on his lap while he drinks his whiskey. "Do you want some?" She shakes her head, making a face. "I don't like that stuff." More for him, then.

Coriolanus lazily draws shapes on her bare skin, on her arms, her legs, her chest, leaving a small trail of goosebumps wherever he goes. "How much to fuck you?"

Soarynn sits up a little straight though she doesn't appear to be offended. More so excited at the prospect of making some money. "Mr. Highbottom is in charge of setting our rates."

Ah, so it all goes back to Highbottom. Coriolanus is willing to bet that he takes a cut of their earnings and pay as well.

"So, I pay you after I fuck you?"

She nods, "Mhm."

Perfect.

"Take this off," he pulls at the strap of her bralette, "and allow me to return the favor."

Soarynn is fast at getting naked. She easily unclips her bralette, bearing her chest to him. He admires her breasts for a moment, noting the rosy shade of her nipples and the perkiness of the breasts themselves. She's perfect. Coriolanus pinches one of her nipples between her fingers, watching as she gasps and arches her back.

"Sensitive, hmm? This'll be fun."

In under a minute, Coriolanus has Soarynn under him. She's already out of breath but they're just getting started. "How old are you?" He asks while peeling her panties down her legs. Soarynn lifts her hips to help him out. "Twenty-one."

He turns thirty in two months, but who's counting? Age is really just a number at the end of the day. "How many men have you slept with?"

"Eight."

Heaven help him.

"You won't ever sleep with ten," he tells her firmly, spreading her legs apart so he can feast on the sight of her cunt. Sure enough, it's perfect just like the rest of her. Wet, pink, and oh-so tight. Coriolanus almost starts to drool at the sight of it.

He gently pulls apart her folds, groaning when he truly sees how wet she's gotten from the teasing and the blowjob. "Your cunt is perfect."

"So I've been told."

He gently slaps her ass with his other hand, she can be a little bit of a brat and Coriolanus Snow doesn't like a smart ass.

Coriolanus doesn't waste another second diving into her wetness, tasting her for himself. She's as sweet as he imagined and sounds even sweeter with her high-pitched moans and whines. "Oh, oh, please," she whines, arching her back. Coriolanus keeps her pinned down to the sofa so he can enjoy her cunt. He pays special attention to her clit, sucking and pulling on it to drive her crazy.

He's had his fair share of women, but it's led him to be quite the confident lover in the bedroom.

"Fuck, oh fuck, right there, right there." He peers up to find Soarynn's face twisted in ecstasy. Her eyes are shut but her lips do all the talking, spouting absolute nonsense while overwhelmed with pleasure. Coriolanus slides a finger into her cunt and she's done for. Her cunt feels so tight, so perfect for him. Coriolanus starts pumping in and out of her cunt, keeping a steady pace while he continues to eat her out.

Her walls start to tighten and her entire body starts to shake. She's going to fall apart any minute now. "Come on," he says, pumping fasted, determined to see her come apart, "give it to me, darling."

Soarynn gives out a pitiful cry and the wire inside of her snaps. It's a sight to see, watching her orgasm wash over her and take control of her entire body. Her mouth falls open, her fingers twitch and her back arches off the sofa like a puppet on strings.

Coriolanus continues lapping at her cunt while she cums, wanting to give her an experience to remember. He only pulls away once she's fully finished and is panting. "That...that was good," she whispers, lying limply under him. Coriolanus smiles, admiring how she looks in her blissed-out state. They really could've done this on the bed now that he thinks about it.

With glossed-over eyes, Soarynn stares up at him, almost in an adoring way. "Most people don't care if I finish."

His eyes rove over her half-naked body, only covered by the corset that looks very painful and her stockings. "I'm not most people," he reminds her. Soarynn rolls her eyes and sits up on her elbows, bumping into his nose with her forehead. "I've gathered that. Are you going to fuck me, because that costs a lot more than eating me out?"

Coriolanus is painfully reminded of how this at the end of the day, is just a sexual transaction. She needs to get paid and he honestly needs to get the fuck out of here. As if he needs to be reminded, there's a loud knock at the door. "Coriolanus? We're leaving so hurry up in there."

Festus. Always there when you don't need him.

Soarynn sighs, carding a hand through her hair, "That answers my question. He only accepts cash by the way." Coriolanus narrows his eyes. Only accepting cash is like sounding the alarm for shady business. Which this is, but he's still not so sure about this Highbottom character.

"How is he? As a boss?"

The question catches Soarynn off guard but that's what he wants. "Fine." Not fine. Coriolanus easily slides two fingers into her cunt, curling them so deep inside of her and Soarynn's eyes damn near roll to the back of her head. "Let me ask again," he says huskily, leaning down to talk directly in her ear, "how does he treat you?"

His fingers begin to work their magic, going in and out of her cunt at a punishing pace. Soarynn cries out, maybe in pain, maybe in pleasure. Sometimes, it's hard to tell the difference. Her hand latches onto his wrist but he's not letting up.

"He, he...he's," she chokes out, her head lolling back from the overstimulation, "he's mean, and he, he, he takes cuts from our pay."

That fucking asshole.

Coriolanus might as well finish what he started. He quickens the pace of his fingers and presses his lips to hers to quiet her down. Soarynn responds eagerly to the kiss, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts. It doesn't take long since she's already got one orgasm under her belt for her to reach another one. Soarynn moans into the kiss allowing him to bite her bottom lip.

Coriolanus tastes blood when she cums.

꧁ ꧂

"How much do I owe you?"

Highbottom leans against the wall of his office, eyeing Coriolanus up and down as if he's not a paying customer. "For you, my friend, five hundred." Coriolanus thumbs through his wallet and lets out a low whistle. "Five hundred, huh? That's a steep price for some cunt, isn't it?" Soarynn blushes standing next to him, lovebites littered all over her neck from their last few minutes together.

"Well, we offer the best of the best here."

"I see. Here's the five hundred for you, and for you," he looks down at Soarynn, "a tip for your services." Coriolanus hands her two hundred dollars, easily the biggest tip she's gotten in her whole life and he's not talking about his cock. Soarynn's eyes widen along with Highbottoms but he looks much more greedier. "Oh," she says softly, brushing her hair out of her face, "oh, that's very nice of you."

"Yes, very nice. You know, we have some rules here," Highbottom interjects, "Soarynn knows the rules, don't you sweetheart?" Her excitement is gone in a second. "Half of our tips go to the house," she says, quieter than before and less excited. She's about to start counting the bills when Coriolanus stops her. "It's not a tip."

Now everyone's confused.

"Excuse me?"

Coriolanus flashes Highbottom a more genuine smile this time now that he's beaten him at his own game. "It's not a tip, it's just my way of thanking her. I always thank the women who service me."

"Is that a fact?"

"Mhm. Now, you go run along, I'm sure we'll see each other very soon, doll," Coriolanus tells Soarynn, giving her ass a pat. Soarynn does as she's told, walking down the hallway, only looking back at him once before she goes behind the curtain back into the main room.

"Did she say something when you two were alone? Because if she did, then I can deal with he-"

"She didn't say anything," he cuts Highbottom off this time. "In fact, I'd like to see her again this Friday."

There's a bit of a standoff between the men, both rich from different sources of income, both profiting off of young girls and their sexuality. "That can be arranged...for a price," Highbottom muses, flipping through his bills, "she's highly coveted as you can imagine."

Those words strike a nerve and Coriolanus clenches his jaw. Soarynn is a proper whore but he'd like to keep things a little more private between them, even if it's for a steep price. "I want her all to myself, even when I'm not here." Highbottom laughs, he fucking laughs at Coriolanus as if he didn't just try to swindle one of his workers in front of him.

"You mean she can't fuck anyone but you? Mr. Snow, please, I know that you know how ridiculous you sound right now. Soarynn has a job to do. Are you saying that you don't want her to get paid?"

"No, I just don't want her fucking anything that walks into this club. You'll both get paid, don't worry about that."

"I'm not worried."

"Then it shouldn't be a problem."

"Mr. Snow, I have some very powerful friends who have taken a liking to Soarynn. What am I to tell them when she's suddenly off limits to them?"

"Tell them she belongs to Coriolanus Snow."

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus is beginning to realize that he's made a grave mistake, and it all started three weeks ago when he met a burlesque dancer named Soarynn who he couldn't get enough of.

At first, he was just looking out for himself. Sharing is not something he's familiar with, so he struck a deal with Casca Highbottom, the owner of the club she danced at. Soarynn could dance, she could wait on tables, she could flirt. But under no circumstances could she be fucked. That meant no kissing, fingering, or fucking.

Coriolanus thought Highbottom might have a stroke when he listed out all of his rules. But he wasn't about to risk Soarynn's tight little cunt or her pretty little head so he took the necessary precautions.

Plus, the last thing he needed was for her to get some nasty disease and then give it to him.

What started out as pure sex has evolved into something different, something...personal. Which is why he's climbing the rickety stairs of her apartment building right now to pick her up for dinner. He didn't dare call it a date in fear of her getting the wrong message. She's sweet, but she's nowhere near his league. Feelings be damned.

This apartment building of hers looks like a thousand health code violations sealed in cement but he's almost to the seventh floor. He's damn near gasping for air by the time he reaches the top of the stairs. The stairwell isn't air conditioned either and, of course, there's no elevator.

Coriolanus had hesitated to leave the safety of his car when it pulled up to the curb of the building. Soarynn lives in the outer circles of the Capitol whereas he lives in the City Centre, both the safest and richest place to live.

He opens the door that leads to the narrow, dimly lit hallway and begins looking for her apartment number. She had insisted on meeting him at the resturaunt and now he knows why.

Her door is the last one, naturally, but Coriolanus has already come this far. He knocks twice, listening to her run around in there before the door opens. Soarynn looks different when she's fully clothed.

Her hair is pulled back and her makeup isn't as intense. Like she lives two seperate lives. "You came," she says. Coriolanus takes a quick look down the hall he just trekked down, "It was quite the long journey, I must admit."

Soarynn smiles, a real, genuine smile. "Well, I'm almost ready. You can just wait out here in the hall." Coriolanus raises an eyebrow, it doesn't feel very safe out here in the hall. "Or I could come in, since you know, I've been paying your rent for the past month."

A blush crawls across her cheeks. Since she only sees him now at the club, Soarynn is fully dependent on Coriolanus to pay for her needs and that's just how he likes it. He tips her generously, more than enough to cover rent for this shabby little shack she calls a home.

"Alright," she mumbles, stepping aside. Coriolanus bravely enters her apartment, stunned at how...small it is. He figured with how much her rent costs, she'd live somehwere bigger. But everything is in one room, the bedroom, living room and kitchen all occupy the same space.

"It's a bit messy," she says, picking up some clothes off the floor, "I meant to clean it the other night but I got home so late..." Her voice gets tuned out as he looks around her space. Drawings are tacked to the walls, clothes and shoes are scattered across the floor, bills are stacked on her small table.

Soarynn is poor.

He eyes the dress she's wearing, small, short and tight. Not at all appropriate for where he's taking her tonight. "Is that what you're wearing?" Soarynn throws some of the clothes onto her small bed pushed into the corner, clearly flustered with the unexpected company. "Yes. Is that a problem?"

The dress ties in the back, but leaves little to the imagination. "I wasn't aware that you'd be wearing some like that," is all he says. Soarynn shrugs, obviously not too worried about her outfit for tonight. "It's one of my more modest pieces if I'm being honest."

That doesn't make him feel any better.

Coriolanus takes another look at the apartment, at the cracked walls, the leaking ceiling, the dirty window and the creaking floorboards. He figured with how much he paid her, she'd be living somehwere nicer. "You have a lot of unpaid bills," he notes. There are several overdue notices sitting on her table, stamped in bright red ink so she can't miss them.

"They're not due until the end of the month."

"Soarynn," he starts with a sigh but she's not having any of it. "It's fine, trust me, it's fine. I know what I'm doing and contrary to your own beliefs, I cna take care of myself."

"I beg to differ. Your apartment is falling apart, you have bills due, am I not paying you enough? Because if that's the case then I ca-"

"I'm fine," Soarynn insists, growing more and more frustrated. "You pay me more than enough, I promise."

Coriolanus just can't find it in him to believe her, not when this is where she lives. "Then why don't you move? Find a better place?"

"I happen to like where I live, thank you very much. And it's close to the club. I've never lived anywhere else but on the edge of the city." What a terrible way to live. "Surely, you could find something a bit bigger," he insists, already picturing his own penthouse as a perfect example.

Coriolanus resides on the Corso with the richest of Panem.

She's never been to his apartment but he's told her about it before, how grand it is, how it's been in his family for generations. Her apartment could fit into his apartment twenty times.

"You are paying your rent, right?" Some people will take and take and take just to spend your money on things they don't need. Like clothes or shoes but Soarynn clearly has plenty of both.

Soarynn huffs, putting her hands on her hips. He finds it very hard to take her seriously, not because of her job, but because of her short stature and bratty little attitude. "Yes, I am paying my rent. It's not really any of your business how I choose to spend my money, is it?"

Coriolanus takes two steps towards her, closing the distance between them quickly. He reaches out and grabs her jaw, not too harshly, but more than enough to get her attention. "Need I remind you that it's my money, darling? So it is my business, and I have no issue taking my money elsewhere, so tell me Soarynn, where is all of this money going?"

She struggles against his hold but it's pointless. Coriolanus is much stronger than her. He tries to imagine where she could be spending it. Perhaps she's been setting money aside to get away from all of this, but that would mean getting away from him and he can't have that.

"I...I help out some of the girls at the club, okay?"

Out of all the things she could've answered with, he wasn't exepcting for her to go with that. "The girls at the club?" He repeats, confused on what she means. All the girls make money at the club, whether they're dancers or waitresses.

"They don't get paid as much as I do, and they don't have someone like you paying them. Highbottom always takes a cut of their pay, so I've been helping some of them out here and there."

It seems that he's underestimated her. Coriolanus expected Soarynn to spend his money on bags and makeup but instead, she's been helping out her friends at work. Sweet, but stupid.

"Their problems are not your problems, Soarynn," he sternly reminds her. Soarynn bats his hand away, "I know. But you never said I couldn't help them, so I am. It's the least I could do, now, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish getting ready."

"You're not ready yet?"

Soarynn brushes past him, completely ignoring his question. They have reservations at eight.

"Where are we eating?"

Coriolanus checks his watch, they have about half an hour before they need to be there. "The Grand Oak," he answers, walking over to the dirty window, "it's in the City Centre."

"Never been," she calls from what must be the bathroom.

"To The Grand Oak?"

"No, to the City Centre."

His eyes widen at her causal comment. Never been to the City Centre?

"In all your years, you've never been to the City Centre?" It's certainly a walk from here since she doesnt have a car, but this is practically unheard of where he comes from. "My father said that if I couldn't afford to eat there, then I probably couldn't afford to walk around there, either. Besides, I have all I need right here."

Soarynn lives on the outskirts of the Capitol, right by the reservoir which sounds nice but it's really not. It's dirty where she lives, shady and known for it's high crime rates. No wonder the club she works at is a five minute walk from here. Coriolanus only goes there because it's guranteed that no one he knows will recognize him there.

"You're in a surprise then," he says, looking at one of the drawings she has tacked to the wall. It's more of a sketch the closer he looks at it. Like a fashion sketch for a dress. He never knew Soarynn could draw, or that she even liked to draw.

"Okay, I'm ready."

He turns around to find that she's thrown on some lipstick and pulled her hair back frm her face. She looks pretty, poor, but pretty. The shoes she's wearing are the same shoes she wears to the club. "You don't have any other shoes?" Soarynn gives him a knowing look. "No."

They'll have to go shopping one of these days, then.

"Fine. Let's go or we're going to be late."

Coriolanus is more than happy to get the hell out of here, especially when a drop of water falls onto his head from the ceiling. With one hand on her lower back, he guides them out of the apartment and down the hallway. "How was work?"

Soarynn always asks him how work was even though they both know she doesn't care. It's the thought that counts. "Fine."

Going down the stairs is much easier than going up and they're outside in no time. "Wow, you have your own car," she gasps, stopping at the curb. He looks down and takes her hand, pulling her along. "I have my own driver too." His driver doesn't bat an eye when a hardly dressed girl gets into the car with Coriolanus.

"The Grand Oak," he says to the driver, slamming the door shut.

Soarynn presses herself against him despite the spacious backseat, baring her smooth legs. "I missed you today." She's always been good at changing the subject, causing him to go from angry and stressed to happy and laughing within seconds. Coriolanus bites back a grin, knowing that she's used that line on plenty of men.

"Did you now?"

"Mhm," she looks out the tinted windows, "I only went to work for a few hours. Highbottom let me take the entire night off. I bet you had something to do with that."

Coriolanus wraps an arm around her, resting his hand on her hip. "I might have stopped by his office on my way out last week." Coriolanus wasn't an idiot, he knew that Highbottom was keeping a close eye on Soarynn now that Coriolanus was exclusively paying for her. So for her to take the night off, Coriolanus slipped the man a few more bills.

"How sweet," she purrs, placing a kiss on his cheek.

Coriolanus returns the gesture with a kiss on the lips, causing both of them to get a little carried away. The car ride goes by fast while he's busy sliding a hand under her dress, teasing her. "Are we going anywhere else tonight?" She asks between kisses, pulling at his necktie. Coriolanus briefly stopped by his apartment to freshen up after work, putting on some fresh cologne and fixing a few of his curls.

Soarynn seems to be set on ruining his hard work.

"I don't know," he teases, "is there somewhere else you need to be?"

"Only in your arms."

There she goes, saying things like that when they both know this won't go any further than heated sex and kisses. It's fun to pretend though, acting like they have nothing to lose.

꧁ ꧂

"And for the lady?"

Soarynn scans over the menu for the tenth time, still unsure on what she wants to eat. "She'll have the salmon," Coriolanus answers for her. Soarynn doesn't protest and simply hands the menu back to the waiter. "Thanks."

Once the waiter leaves, she leans over the table. "I've never seen a menu that big before," she whispers. Coriolanus hums, he's more than used to fine dining, but Soarynn isn't. Her eyes were as big as saucers when they walked inside, immediately drawing attention to her exposed skin and interesting looking shoes.

Coriolanus should've rented out a private room for tonight. Lots of people have bee glancing over at them but Soarynn has remained oblivious to their judgemental stares, simply in awe of the opulence he lives in so casually.

"More wine?" She shakes her head, watching as he finishes off his second glass. "No thanks, I had something to drink at the club." All Highbottom lets the girls drink is posca, the cheapest alcohol there is but Soarynn is a lightweight.

"Isn't that Festus?"

Coriolanus can hear him before he sees him. "Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Coriolanus Snow and..."

"Soarynn," she finishes for him, flashing Festus a smile, "nice to see you somewhere else."

Coriolanus takes in Festus and more importantly, the woman standing next to him. Persephone Price, a woman he's been after for years now. They just started seeing each other but Persephone has no clue that Festus frequents nightclubs to play cards and get lap dances.

"Where else do you see each other?" Persephone asks, nervously looking between all three of them. Coriolanus clears his throat, "Soarynn is a...she's an old maid of mine. She works somewhere else now but Festus always treated her like a barmaid whenever he came over." Festus lets out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck while Soarynn shoots Coriolanus a murderous glare which he wisely ignores.

"Oh, well, it's nice to meet you," Persephone says. Soarynn offers a polite smile but she doesn't mean it. "You too." Festus is quick to steer Persephone away from them. "We should be going. I'll see you at work, Coriolanus."

"Sure, Festus."

The moment they're out of earshot, Soarynn gives him an earfull of calling her a maid. "Are you serious?" She seethes, shooting daggers at him, "A maid?"

"Would you rather me have told her the truth? That I pay you to fuck you because we can call them back over here," he offers, not appreciating her tone. "You're a dancer, darling, and Persephone doesn't need to know about Festus and his whereabouts."

"Why not?"

How can he put this nicely?

"The club you work at has a certain...reputation," he explains slowly and quietly so no one overhears them, "and men like us can't be seen visiting such places. Especially not by women we're courting."

Soarynn sits up straight in her chair. "Are you seeing other women?"

Coriolanus blinks once, twice. How did he get here?

"No, no, I'm not seeing other women because frankly, I don't have time to see other women," he grits out, "you are more than enough for my plate."

"Your plate? So what am I? A meal?"

"I always tip after I eat you out, don't I?"

If looks could kill, he'd be dead right now.

"I'm going home," she announces, standing up so fast that she almost knocks her chair over. Coriolanus pinches the bridge of his nose, a headache is already forming, he can feel it coming. "Soarynn, sit down right now, you're making a scene."

"You are making me feel like some cheap whore. Have a nice night," she snaps, walking away before he can say anything else. Coriolanus watches her go and counts to ten before flagging down the waiter. He makes up some bullshit lie about a family emergency and makes sure to tip a little extra, no one needs to hear about some young woman walking out on Coriolanus Snow at dinner.

Soarynn doesn't get far before his car pulls up on her walking down the street, absolutely fuming. "Soarynn," he calls out the window, "Soarynn, come back, stop walking away from me."

"Stop writing me off as some girl you just sleep with!"

Coriolanus winces at her loud tone. Must she be so loud?

They're about two blocks away from the Corso, so maybe he can fix this. "Darling," he tries, softer this time, kinder. "Darling, come here, please. Let me take you home and make it up to you." Soarynn comes to a stop, wrapping her arms around herself. She looks so out of place here in the City Centre. Still, she's his for now. His responsibility, at least.

"I'm tired," she says, taking a step towards the black sleek car, "I think it'd be best if I just went home." Coriolanus shakes his head, not ready to let this night go. "Come home with me tonight," he insists, reaching out a hand, "you still need to have dinner."

Soarynn contemplates his offer. It's a good offer, a great offer.

She has two choices: go home to her rundown apartment, or go home with him.

Her decison is made rather quickly, but it always is when you have nothing to lose.

꧁ ꧂

"You looked so cute!" Soarynn giggles, evading his strong hands when he tries to pull her back into bed. They just spent the past four hours fucking and now, Soarynn is going through his personal photos. Framed photographs can be found throughout his penthouse, left behind by his mother who passed away decades ago. He's never seen a reason to put them away, not when most of them are of his family.

The last he has of them.

"Come back to bed," he sighs, lazily reaching out for her. Soarynn is wearing the shirt he wore to dinner, it's quite big on her but she makes it work. Her hair is tangled and her makeup is smudged. She looks beautiful, even he can admit that.

"Why don't you have any pets? Even in your baby photos, there's no pets." Coriolanus chuckles, shaking his head at the very notion of brining an animal into his home.

Soarynn is already more than enough.

"Pets are a lot of work," he explains tiredly, rubbing a hand over his face. They still need to shower and he desperately needs to shave his face. Coriolanus prefers a clean shaven face at the moment so he needs to stay on top of it.

"I've always wanted a kitten," she says, climbing back in bed with him. Coriolanus closes his eyes, imagining having to take care of such a demanding animal. "Then why haven't you gotten one?" Soarynn could definitely afford one with the money he pays her whenever he visits the club.

"Oh, I don't know. It just wouldn't be fair to raise a kitten in such a small apartment and besides, money comes and goes," she says the last part quietly, causing him to open his eyes. That's his money she's talking about and his money isn't going anywhere.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She cards a hand through her hair. "I mean, how long are we gonna do this? One day you'll get bored or find some other woman, someone like the lady we saw with Festus and then I'll just be the girl you used to pay for sex."

Unfortunately, she's right. Coriolanus could never marry Soarynn, it's sweet idea, but incredibly unattainable. She comes from lower class, she's a proper whore. His reputation would never recover if they were to get married.

"Let's not think about the future," he wisely advises, "just enjoy the present." Soarynn frowns but doesn't argue, simpy cuddles up to him instead. Coriolanus isn't really one for being all soft after sex, but he supposes that he can make the rare exception for Soarynn.

She is right, after all. One day, he'll never see her again. He can't afford to reputation wise, and she could never keep up with him when it comes to finances.

As he drifts to sleep, he realizes that maybe that was a lie he told himself when this all started.

They both have something to lose.

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[saltnsugarbear]

I'm gonna stay faithful (to the devil I know) (18+)

summary: After you don't respond how Carmy wants to a compliment, he gets a bit,,,, authoritative

title from: "The Devil I Know" by Suki Waterhouse

word count: 3.9k

content warnings: smut MDNI!!! Carmy's mean (like,,,, like mean), use of derogatory words during sex (bitch, brat,), Claire again :/, what i suppose could classify as subspace, brat tamer Carm :), reader wears a skirt (important for plot), afab reader genitalia, unprotected sex, i lean so heavily into being horny and pathetic, ✨️pull out method✨️, I cant think of anything else?

side note: hey hi everyone say thanks Olive again for helping with dialogue and just,,,,, everything ever. everyone say thank you olive because I should be paying her

series masterlist!

You've been bugging Carmy all day since his morning text. The sunrise from the L tracks.

Carmy had started sending them early in the month, sometimes just the sunrise, sometimes with an added message. This morning, the photo is tagged with a short, "Looks like you."

The text made you scoff, rolling your eyes while you tap out a short, "You're annoying"

For an hour, Carmy leaves you on read. At first, you think he's tied up with the kitchen until Sugar sends you a brief, "Carmen's being annoying again."

Her complaint garners your sympathy and a brief, "Isn't he always annoying?" which gets a heart reaction from her. You switch chats between the Berzattos, going back to Carmy where he's still left you on read.

You: Carmen...

You: I'm messing you, Carmy.

Carmy reads your messages but doesn't respond. You let him keep you on read for another twenty minutes before you message him again.

You: are you pouting rn? really?

Bubbles appear a couple of times before he responds.

C: No.

You: Nat says you're being particularly annoying today

C: She's being annoying today..

You can hear the grumble of his voice, an attempt to redirect your attention.

You: Carmy...

You can practically hear the sigh fall from his lips as you watch the bubbles go. And they stop again. You've seen this pattern with Carmy enough times to cut it short.

You: Need me to make it up to you later?

You: Maybe during lunch?

You: ;)

The last message is a tease, enough to clarify what you could mean. And enough that he stops typing for a minute. Then he starts up again.

C: Can't get away for that long.

You huff, knowing there's an obvious option here.

You: Or....

You: I could come there..

The response is instant.

C: No.

Then.

C: Can you wait til after?

You groan, burying your head in your arms on top of the counter. You're hiding long enough that he messages two more times.

C: You can, can't you?

C: Then I can come take care of you.

The words on the screen make your face flush and it's embarrassing because he's not even there. You keep your face hidden like there's some way he can see you from the restaurant.

You: You're evil, btw

You: I guess I can wait... But I'm not happy about it.

C: Yeah, yeah..

Unfortunately for Carmen, when you want something, you're persistent.

Which, for him, translates into his phone pinging in his pocket. You send him a few things each time he's away, just to tease him and to gift him with a surprise when he comes back to his phone.

It starts as idle chatter, comments as you go about your day. Telling him about the errand you have to go run, mentioning the woman with her cat in a stroller when you get there, telling him about the lingerie set you saw at the store and how you think he'd like the color.

After noon is when he starts getting frustrated. Not at your messages, but rather that he can't just leave.

The tipping point is the picture you sent him. Nothing graphic or noteworthy would make him squirm until he could get his hands on you. Instead, you've attached a selfie, taken at an angle, so it's like he's towering over you. In the photo, you're wearing a sweater over a collared shirt and a plaid-patterned skirt that pools onto the bench you're sitting on.

The picture is bumped up when you send another text.

You: Company lunch :P

You: You know how I feel about free food

Something inside Carmy twinges. His gaze flicks back up to your skirt before he types a response.

C: I thought you had the day off?

You: Apparently they couldn't schedule the lunch for another day

You: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: They're arriving! See you later ;)

"It's open!" You call over your shoulder and then turn back to your phone. Carmy enters your apartment easily, and you can already hear him grumbling about leaving the door unlocked while he toes off his shoes.

"I don't know why I knock anymore." He tells you, and you brush him off.

"No one is going to come into my apartment, Carmy." You sigh, turning onto your back. "Other than you."

Your reason makes Carmy shake his head as he walks over. You tuck your legs in to make room for him on the couch, sitting up straight.

"How was your lunch?" Carmy lets his head fall back against the couch when he looks at you. You give him a short shrug, laying your head against the cushion as well.

"Lame, but they paid for me, so that's a win." You give him a bright grin. He nods, bringing a hand to fidget with the edge of your skirt. "Just like.. Getting everyone out of the office, talk about something other than emails and deadlines. How's the restaurant?"

Carmy lets out a ragged sigh, turning to face the ceiling. You listen as intently as you can, course correcting when you find yourself getting distracted. At some point, you forget and start tracing his features with your eyes. Then it's easy to remember why you invited him over.

As he continues to tell you about how Richie thinks they should decorate for Halloween, you silently sling one of your legs over his thighs. Carmen pauses briefly, watching while you push yourself onto his lap.

"Are y'serious right now.?" Carmy grumbles, hands raised as you get settled. You give him an exasperated huff, adjusting how you're sat.

"I was being serious all day.." You complain, rocking your hips into his for affect.

"Can't go five fuckin' minutes without it, can ya?" He scoffs, resting his hands on your thighs when you stop moving. He's smirking up at you, blue eyes bright while he teases.

"You said you'd take care of me, Carm.." You whine, rolling your hips again.

"And y'can't wait a little longer?" He taunts, squeezing your thighs.

"I've been waiting all day," You emphasize this by shifting your hips. You try and make it look like you're adjusting how you're sat, like you can't get comfortable. Carmy shakes his head with a huff, watching as you squirm.

"Thought I was annoying.." He says, holding you in place, and you let out a frustrated whine. As if you can't believe he's bringing it up now of all times.

"Told you, I was messing with you," you tell him, hands resting on top of his. He hums at that, tilting his head to one side as he studies you.

"I want an apology," He says, and it catches you off guard.

"What?" Your brow furrows in confusion. Is he serious right now? You're sitting on his lap, and he's thinking about an apology?

"I want an apology." Carmy reiterates, a sternness finding its way into his voice. It makes something in you seize for a moment, and then you can breathe again.

"What are you, twelve?" You scoff, rolling your eyes. He stays quiet, content to squeeze at your thighs while he waits.

"No. I told you I was joking." You sit up straighter, chest puffed with some sort of defiance. Carmy raises an eyebrow at your antics, clearly unamused. When you don't say anything else, a small sigh escapes him.

"Apologize," He lets it sit in the air for a moment. "Or I won't fuck you."

Your stomach twists. There's something in his eyes that almost makes you believe him. But you're not going to give him the satisfaction of folding first.

"Who said I invited you over to fuck?" You're bluffing. He can tell even without the tone in your voice but he thinks it's cute how you're trying to play it off.

"You're kidding me.." Carmy scoffs, hands sliding further up your thighs.

"You lounge around dressed like this? Huh? Even the lace?" He brushes over your clothed clit, making you inhale sharply.

"You're bein' mean," You whine, lifting your hips slightly. You watch as Carmy rolls his eyes, pouting when he pushes you back down onto his lap.

"Oh, don't pout, you started it. Being a brat while I was being nice."

You huff pathetically on top of him. You look down at where your hands rest on his stomach, pinching at his shirt fabric quietly.

"No, stop, look at me-" Carmy grabs your face with both hands, making you look at him. "- Quit it. You did this."

You whine from low in your throat, the sound muddled by the way he's holding your face. You blink at him a few times, trying to ignore the pressure behind your eyes. He sighs heavily, hands leaving your face to find your hips. Carmy moves you easily, pushing you off his lap and back onto the couch.

"Hey!" You squeak, watching wide-eyed as he stands up. You watch him adjust his jeans silently before he starts to head to the door. Your stomach dips watching helplessly as he starts to slip on his boots.

"Wait, wait, wait.." You stumble off the couch quickly. Carmy doesn't get very far before you're standing in front of him, a poor attempt in stopping him from leaving. He stops as you press yourself against him, clinging onto his t-shirt.

"I told you I was joking." You whine, blinking away the pressure of tears.

"I didn't laugh. An apology. Or I leave." He says it firmly, and you know he means it. The huff you let out is pathetic and it makes him raise a brow. He forces you back two steps, bullying his way to the door. It's embarrassing how quickly you're falling to your knees to keep him in place.

You're slightly frantic in your movements, hands flying to his belt. Carmy watches you as you struggle with the buckle, tugging at it impatiently. You have to keep him from leaving.

"No. Hey-" Carmy grabs your chin again, making you look up at him. You sigh miserably, blinking up at him as you feel tears starting to well up.

"I said an apology. You can hear me, can't you?" His tone is condescending as he looks down at you. You whine softly, looking anywhere but him. Carmy lets go of your chin, letting you pout in front of him.

"You really want me to leave, hm?" He hums, shifting just slightly. You're quick to shake your head, moving your hips a little. "Doesn't seem that way. That's too bad. Think I'll go-"

"'M sorry!!" You cry out, shifting on your knees, resting some of your weight on his foot. Your hands clutch at his thigh as you rock softly against his boot.

"Yeah?" He asks you, pressing harder against your core. You whine miserably, grinding against the toe of his boot. "Repeat it for me, baby.."

"Carmyy-" You whine. He hums, taking a step back and watching you scramble at his leg to keep him from leaving. Something about it makes his stomach dip, and makes his head hazy.

"I'm sorry," you get out. "Please, Carm, please-"

"Finally..." He grumbles, taking a step back from you. You're able to glance the tent in his pants before his movements block your view.

You squeal softly as Carmy grabs you under your arms, moving you to the couch. He drapes you over the armrest, a throw pillow nestled against your stomach.

Carmy 'tsks' softly behind you, lifting your skirt and exposing the backs of your thighs to him and the air. He watches as you squeeze your legs together, squirming under his gaze.

"All that beggin' and whinin' got you this worked up?" He asks, pressing his thumb against your underwear, dragging it down to where he knows your clit is. His hands gone as quick as it came before they're gripping the sides of your underwear.

You gasp when you hear the tearing of seams, Carmy moving to the other side and ripping it too. The air's cold on the skin of your ass and cunt, pressing your thighs against the side of the couch like it'll do anything.

"Look at that mess," Carmy grunts before the remnants of your underwear land on the center cushion. "All that cryin' and you still ruined 'em."

The center of your underwear is darker than the rest. It's embarrassing, and it makes your face flush. You tuck your face against the cushion, as if you can find from the blood rushing to your face.

"No," Carmy says from behind you, a hand coming under your face, lifting you away from the cushion. "Look at it."

He grips your jaw and turns you back to the direction of your ruined underwear, making sure you look at it.

"See the mess you were makin', humping my leg?" You whine at his words, clenching around nothing. You inhale sharply as he presses his erection against your ass, rocking his hips slowly.

The feeling of denim against your core makes you moan softly, pressing your hips back into him. He brings a hand to your waist and gives you a firm squeeze.

"Quit that," Carmy shoves his hips against you, pressing you back up against the couch. Once you stop squirming, Carmy lets go of your face and shifts behind you. The sound of him undoing his belt makes your thighs clench. It clinks as he shoves his jeans and boxers off, letting his cock rest against your ass.

You inhale softly as he pulls his hips back, brushing the head over your entrance. You're glad you took in a breath because when he pushes in it feels like the winds been knocked out of you.

"Fuck- Carm-" You groan, clawing at the armrest under you. The stretch still feels like you're being split open even after a few days without him.

He doesn't give you long to adapt before he's starting a steady rhythm. You lose any train of thought you could have had, effectively lost as Carmy picks up the pace. Moans tumble out of your mouth, rocking your hips back to meet Carmy's movements.

Your head is hazy, reeling from the way Carmy's fucking you. In the past, Carmy's been firm and attentive. Nothing like how he is today. Today, Carmy is like you've never seen him, rough thrusts and rougher hands. He presses your hips down against the armrest, you already know there's going to be finger-shaped bruises there.

"So good, Carm-" You groan, panting against the couch cushion. He scoffs behind you, rolling his hips into you.

"Such a fuckin'-" Carmy starts, but cuts himself short. His breathing is ragged behind you and you can't help the whine that escapes you when he gives you a particularly sharp thrust.

"Such a fuckin' bitch.." He grunts out, hand sliding up to hold the back of your neck. "Cryin' t'get fucked."

"Carm-" You choke out, reaching back for him. "Carmen-"

You squeal softly as Carmy grinds his hips against your ass, fingers brushing the side of his thigh. He takes your wrist in a firm grip and presses it against your back. You press your calf against his, rolling your hips back into his. You breathe out heavily against the cushion, an awful attempt to fill your lungs.

"Please-" You choke out, feeling how he twitches inside of you. "Carm- please- give-"

You sob into the cushion as he slams his hips into you again, effectively cutting off your pleading. You don't have time to think before Carmy pulls all the way out, making you sob again.

His hands are heavy on your hips, pulling you back and off the couch. You're panting as he turns you over, picking you up easily. Your mind is foggy as he carries you before setting you down on a mattress. His hands feel like they're everywhere, as he tugs off your skirt and you try to take off your shirt. Carmy tsks softly and lifts the shirt over your head before laying you back down. You watch quietly as he tugs off his own shirt.

"Carm, please," You whine, grabbing for any part you can reach. Your chest heaves as he lines back up against your entrance. The slow stretch of him makes your jaw drop, eyes fluttering shut as you grab at Carmy's shoulders.

Carmy places a hand above you on the bed as he pushes his hips flush against you, making sure you feel everything. Having him over you makes it easier for you to grab at him, digging your fingers into his back as he grinds into you.

"Look at you.." He breathes softly, giving you a shallow thrust. "Just needed my cock and you start behavin', huh?"

Your words are slurred when you whine out and the look on Carmy's face makes you flush. His eyes are dark as they meet yours and you watch as his jaw tightens, breathing out heavily.

"Didn't come over here to hear y'whining.." Carmy grumbles, grabbing at your chin and shutting your mouth. That doesn't stop a noise from escaping your lips, stifled as he tries to keep you quiet.

It's almost natural.

The way his hand slides down to your neck.

The feeling of Carmy's hand around your throat makes your eyes roll back, jaw dropping as he grinds his hips into you. A groan tears from your throat as your back arches off the bed, hands grabbing for Carmy's arm to ground yourself.

You watch as he lowers himself to rest with his forearm against the bed, punctuating the movement with another shallow thrust. Carmy starts a steady rhythm, looking down at where he fucks into you. It's not long before the tensions building low in your stomach again, squeezing your thighs against his hips.

"C- Carmy- gonna- please let me-" You struggle to finish a sentence, fight to find the words past the feeling of Carmy fucking you the way he is. You don't get a response from him, just a few more rough thrusts. That's enough to send you over the edge, back arching off the mattress as your orgasm washes over you.

"Shit," Carmy grunts, pressing his forehead to yours as he feels your walls clamp around him. "Let go, sweetheart. Let me feel ya.."

He sighs against your lips, closing the small distance as he grinds into you. Your hips rut against him without rhythm, making Carmy groan into your mouth. It's a mess of tongue and spit as he moves his kisses to your jaw, nipping at the juncture under your ear.

The sound as Carmy continues to fuck into you is sinful, filling the room along with your heavy breathing.

"Carm- Carmen, need to feel-" You choke on a sigh, being shut up by a soft nip against your collarbone. Carmy picks up his pace, the sound of skin against skin being chased by his heavy breathing. He trails kisses and bites back up your neck, timing his bites with each thrust.

It makes you whimper into Carmy's hair, grabbing at his back and shoulders as you teeter along overstimulation. He makes it to your mouth, tugging on your lower lip gently with his teeth. You whine quietly, "Bear..."

"Fuck-" Is all you get from him before he's smothering the words against your lips. His pace gets sloppy and frantic as he kisses you. You think you might be able to live like this the rest of your life.

Carmy groans into your mouth, hips rutting into you erratically. He's swears quickly before he pulls out, making you whine before you feel his release on your stomach. You sigh when he pushes his hips into the back of your thighs, feeling his cock twitch against your skin.

You wait as he reaches for a kleenex from your nightstand, wiping off your stomach and stepping it on the surface. With your skin mostly clean, Carmy slips an arm around your middle and presses himself against your side. You hum as he presses soft kisses to the side of your face, whispering sweet things against your cheek and hair.

Once he's done holding you, Carmy falls into his aftercare routine. Pressing kisses to your skin while he cleans you up, helps you dress, and tucks you back into bed.

You grumble at him softly when he gives you a parting kiss, leaving the room for longer than you'd like. You can hear him shuffling around the apartment, the sound of cabinets opening and closing and water occasionally running.

Soon, Carmy is back with water and something else in hand. You lift your head to catch a glimpse of whatever he's got and blink slowly.

"Y'didn't have to.." You mumble, eyeing the plate he sets on your nightstand. Carmy makes a noise before he leans over you, grabbing an extra pillow for support.

He waits silently as you sit up, eyes catching how your nose scrunches in discomfort. Carmy quiets you with a quick kiss before you can make a comment at him. Instead, you hum quietly and take the plate when he sets it in your lap, making a noise of complaint when he parts.

Once you're settled, Carmen crawls over your legs before he lays next to you on top of the comforter. He grabs the extra fork from the plate as you collect a bite, eyeing him while he pokes the food.

"That was hot," You say through a mouthful of food. "By the way.."

Your words surprise a laugh from Carmy and make his face flush while he continues to pick over the plate.

"You'd say that about whatever I did.." He mutters, collecting a bite while he avoids looking at you. His words make you huff, nudging him softly.

"Shut up..." You tell him, letting Carmy steal from your plate quietly.

You eat in silence, taking in Carmy's sex-mused appearance. There's angry red lines slopping along his shoulders and the curls around his neck are messy. You quietly admire the fading hickeys along his chest, left by you a few nights ago. He taps your thigh softly, motioning towards the plate when you've been staring for awhile.

"Eat." He tells you. Carmy watches as you take a few more bites before he starts to collect another.

When you're both done, Carmy collects the plate before taking it to the kitchen. He takes awhile to come back to the room but you wait for him contently. Carmy pauses when he sees you waiting for him and you can see the brief surprise in his eyes.

You wriggle deeper into the blankets while Carmy crosses to turn off the lamp before he joins you. He slips under the covers easily, resting to face you when he's settled.

"Look like I got mauled by an animal.." Carmy grumbles beside you. You make a noise of protest, hitting him softly as you gape at him. You know he's giving you shit, but it hits a nerve.

"Just you wait..." You warn him, knowing that tomorrow you'll look worse than he does. He shushes you softly, tugging your hips closer and tangling your legs together. He placates you with kisses when you start to argue, pressing you into the mattress. You make a noise of contentment, letting him smother you until he's pressing kisses to your jaw and your neck.

You're more than happy to let him kiss you to sleep.

Carmy's gone in the morning.

The bed is made on his side.

The only proof he was there at all is the text when you check your phone.

C: Claire came back while we were asleep. Snuck out.

Underneath is a message from Claire after she would have gotten off from work.

Claire: Did you move the couch?

Claire: Missed it putting my bag down, sorry if I woke you

[suniix]

mission accomplished | bucky x agent! reader

synopsis | when a mission goes awry secrets are revealed, some more awkward than others

word count | 4.2k

warnings | mentions of blood + injury, light violence

note | this is me trying to get back into writing. it’s also my first time writing for bucky i hope it’s good 💔 also also, i haven’t watched anything after endgame so bear with me (im catching up i swear) i mostly wrote this at 4 am so forgive any errors 🙂‍↕️

The only reason you accepted this task was because during the mission briefing it seemed like a quick and easy job.

It totally didn’t have anything to do with the super soldier currently sitting across from you.

“Alright you two,” Sam called out and you felt the jet begin its descent. “Stick to the plan and we’ll meet at the extraction point.”

Right, the plan.

When Natasha first approached you for the job you were speed walking to a mission briefing you were almost late to. You found it a bit odd considering you almost never go out for missions. You weren’t exactly a field agent, only being called on for low stakes undercover tasks since you were an unfamiliar face or subbing in for those that couldn’t. Otherwise, you just worked behind computers.

“It’s simple; you get in, grab the files, get out.”

You rolled your eyes before looking down at the file she handed you. “It’s never that simple Nat, you know that. Besides, I have things to catch up on here.”

She wasn’t entirely wrong for thinking that. Based on the brief glances you gave the file it was essentially retrieving information in an abandoned hydra facility. If everything went according to plan, which almost never happened, you’d be back that same day.

The meeting room came into view and you handed her back the file. She accepted it with her usual smirk, that kind of smirk that meant she knows more than she’s letting on and made your stomach twist in anticipation for what she had planned.

Before opening the door she paused. “You sure you won’t change your mind?”

You didn’t respond, casting her a nervous look as you debated skipping the whole meeting. She chuckled before opening the door, letting you enter before she followed you in.

Safe to say, you changed your mind once you realized who else was assigned to the mission.

“Hey,” Bucky called out from across from you. He was already out of his seat. “You okay?”

“Yeah! Sorry, I just zoned out for a bit..” You quickly undid your seatbelt and started grabbing your things while simultaneously trying to ignore the embarrassment warming your ears. Regret settled in your chest— there was no way you’d be able to get through this mission undistracted, not while Bucky was here.

You heard Sam laugh from somewhere in the front. “Eyes on the prize people, can’t afford any distractions.”

He was right. You had to focus on the mission.

You felt the jet settle and begin to hover before a side door automatically opened. You glanced over and despite the darkness you noticed the area was different from what was shown in the mission briefing.

“I thought the drop off point was closer?” You yelled, hoping Sam heard you over the harsh winds.

“I looped around but didn’t see a clear landing spot, this is as close as I can get. You two are going to have to jump.” Sam yelled back.

You heard Bucky curse from beside you and you couldn’t help but let out an irritated sigh.

Great start to the mission.

You peered out the door to take a look at the drop. It wasn’t too bad— for a super soldier. There’s no way you’d be able to land safely, not without taking a few branches to the face on your way down and possibly breaking a bone or two. It was too high to jump regularly and too low for a parachute. You looked around, hoping to find a rope to throw over before Bucky suddenly jumped out without warning.

He landed silently with the skill only a trained soldier would have before gesturing you to follow, holding out his hands. You could faintly make out the words I’ll catch you and you swore your heart jumped out the plane without you.

There was no time to argue—the more time Sam spent hovering in the air the more likely it was that you would draw attention, regardless if the area was abandoned or not.

Trusting his words you jumped, feeling the harsh cold bite from the wind before it was quickly replaced with the warmth only another body could provide. He held you securely while you remained stiff as a board, still processing what you just did.

“Do you always jump out of planes without warning?” You tried to joke in an attempt to calm your racing heart. While your heart might’ve jumped out the moment bucky offered you his arms you were pretty sure your soul was still on the jet.

“Only when I need to.” He responds, gently setting you down and letting go when he’s sure you can stand on your own.

Your earpiece buzzed to life, catching the last bits of Sam’s laugh. “Alright, have fun you two. We’ll meet back in a few hours.”

With that Sam took off, leaving the two of you alone in the woods to walk the rest of the way.

Since joining to work with the Avengers one thing has been engraved into your mind.

Things never go as planned.

It should be obvious—plans change, especially in a field like this. You’ve learned how to adjust in order to accommodate those changes. Most of the time the information you receive before a mission is current, having been verified by multiple agents.

This was not one of those times.

Despite its run down appearance it turns out the facility was in fact not abandoned. You and Bucky quickly realized that once you began to get shot at.

“Fuck!—” You pulled back behind a wall as a bullet hit your side.

To your left across the hallway Bucky shot you a quick glance. Without saying anything he picked up a body that was nearby and used it as a shield against the bullets to cross the hallway and get to you.

“Shit, you okay?” He asked, waiting for the rain of bullets to end before he attempted to peek out and shoot back.

“Yeah totally.” You groaned, attempting to sit up but failing. Earlier, when you two were first noticed, you took a few hits while fighting. Later, your arm was grazed. You didn’t feel it at the moment but now the adrenaline was beginning to wear off and your eyelids were growing heavier by the minute. The blaring noise of the alarm wasn’t helping with the headache you were beginning to develop. You briefly remembered Sam’s words; had you been that distracted?

“Sam, do you copy?” Bucky asked, quickly attempting to shoot the assailants down the hall.

All you heard back was a jumbled mess of words followed by static.

“The walls must be messing with comms,” You groaned, handing him your gun when you noticed he was out of amo.

The stalemate continued for a few more seconds and you could tell Bucky was growing impatient. You two were outnumbered, Bucky would eventually run out of bullets and the agents would eventually close in. You instinctively ghost your hand over your blade to make sure it was still there—it was. There was no way you could fight and Bucky wouldn’t be able to defend both of you forever, but you’d sure as hell try.

Without warning Bucky slung your uninjured arm over his shoulder and began quickly dragging you down the hallway.

Left, right, left, right?—

The frequent turns he was taking only worsened your headache. You wanted to ask if he knew where he was going before he made a sharp turn and pushed past a door just as the footsteps approached. The two of you remained completely still, listening as the footsteps of the soldiers quickly passed by. Once the sound of footsteps disappeared you let out a sigh of relief and fully leaned against the wall before sliding down.

“Finally..” You breathed out, clutching your side. “I thought that only worked in movies..” You mumbled before shrugging off the outer layer of your outfit in order to look at the wound at your side and use it to absorb the blood.

“What?”

Before you got the chance to respond a whirring sound echoed from within the door followed by a harsh click. Bucky wiggled the door handle, but it refused to budge.

You immediately sit up in a panic. “Shit— they trapped us?”

Bucky shakes his head. “The whole building is on lockdown. They’re assuming we’re still looking for the exit and locked all doors to prevent us from leaving.” Bucky steps back while narrowing his eyes at the door. You could only assume he was debating whether or not to break it down.

“How are we going to get out? This place is a maze, completely different from the layout we were given..” You groaned, recalling the information they gave you. It’s clear whoever was running this place had made some upgrades.

Bucky looked over at you, eyes lingering on your bleeding side. “Our best bet is to stay put. The others will eventually realize something went wrong when we aren’t at the extraction point.”

A wave of guilt washes over you when you realize why. You put more pressure on your side, wishing the bleeding would stop entirely. “Eventually?..”

Bucky doesn’t respond, only crouches by your side before gently wrapping his hand around your wrist. “Let me take a look.”

You hesitantly allow him to remove your hand. He’s close, closer than he’d normally allow himself to be around anyone. He stares at your side for a moment longer, an unrecognizable emotion swirling around his blue eyes before he firmly places your hand back.

You know the wound is slightly deeper than the one you received on your arm, but nothing you couldn’t recover from. Still, it didn’t help the fact that it hurt like hell.

“So, how bad is it doc? Am I going to live?” You chuckle before wincing at the motion.

Bucky keeps his hand over yours. “You’ll be fine, just keep putting pressure.”

You nod and he slowly slips his hand away. You momentarily mourn the loss before he sits down next to you, keeping himself between you and the door. The distance is short, still close enough for your knees to brush if anyone moved, close enough to smell whatever cologne or shampoo he used.

“I need a coffee after this..” You mumble, attempting to sit up now that you were beginning to feel an ache in your lower back.

Bucky raised a brow. “A coffee?”

You nod. “Yeah, I always drink one in the morning, but not today.”

“Why not?”

“I was running late.” You breathed out a laugh, remembering your first encounter with the super soldier.

The first time you met him was early in the morning. You were running late for a meeting, because there was no way you would be able to get through the day without your coffee, and quickly turned a corner when you suddenly crashed into someone.

Your coffee spilled all over your clothes.

“What the!—” You immediately stopped once you noticed who you crashed into.

Sergeant James Barnes, or rather, Bucky as most people called him.

His mouth was moving, likely apologizing, but nothing was registering in your head. His eyes were furrowed and apologetic, his hair pulled back, and his skin shiny like he just came back from a workout.

Being this close to him, you realized he smelled surprisingly good.

Your gaze shifted behind him when you noticed a clock hanging on the wall, its ticking taunting you.

“No no, it’s fine! It’s just.. I gotta go!” You quickly rushed off once you remembered where you were headed.

Even though you went the whole day smelling like coffee you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him.

Running late was starting to become a bad habit, you noticed.

“You think there’s a chance they’ll figure out something went wrong before our pickup time?” You ask, gazing aimlessly at the ceiling.

Bucky shrugged. “If we’re lucky then they’ll already have figured it out.”

The silence that ensued wasn’t awkward, if it was you were too tired to notice. You looked around the room for the first time since you entered and noticed it looked completely unused. The room itself smelled stale and filing cabinets lined the walls with a few drawers left halfway pulled out. Whoever was here last left in a rush—you wonder how long ago that was.

Long enough for the layout to be completely changed. You hope you’ll remember to reprimand whoever was in charge of verifying the accuracy of the mission details.

However long ago that was, it was likely that they expected people to come looking for this place, but they probably never thought two agents would be stuck here waiting for help. You snuck a glance at Bucky. He’s still facing the door, jaw clenched, every part of him coiled like a spring—ready, waiting for something to pass through. It’s clear he’s thinking about something, you wonder if you’ll ever get to know what’s inside his head.

Bucky was only used for very specific missions, and in those cases he was usually accompanied by Steve, Nat, or even Sam. Someone the higher ups knew would be able to ‘handle’ him in case things went south, though they never have (and never will). With missions that required more agents you joined in, but those didn’t happen often. Even when they did, your interactions with the super soldier were limited. It’s not exactly the best idea to talk about mundane things while it’s raining bullets. The only other times you ran into him was during the briefings before a mission or randomly in the tower, and you savored every second. This was one of the few times he was sent out with someone apart from his usual trio and the only time he was sent out with you alone.

Maybe even the last given how messy the situation became.

You don’t know when you zone back into the moment, only becoming aware of it when you realize the alarm has stopped blaring beyond the door. A good sign, maybe they stopped looking for you two. Or maybe they’ve realized where you two are hiding and are on their way to ensure no one makes it out.

At some point Bucky reached over and placed his hand over yours, helping you apply more pressure on your wound. You hadn’t noticed you stopped.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve handled them faster.”

You snap your head in Bucky’s direction. “What? No, it’s not your fault.”

Bucky shakes his head, meeting your eyes for what feels like the first time this whole mission. “It is, the first time you got hit I reacted too slow. And now you’re—” He cuts himself off and looks away, clenching his hands.

You shift uncomfortably against the wall, the sting in your side a dull throb now. You’ve lost a decent amount of blood, you think, just enough for it to be worrisome. Maybe it’s the blood loss, but something you’ve been keeping unsaid is on the tip of your tongue.

Would now be a good time to say it? What would you even say?

There’s never a good time, you realize. Between your desk job, the missions, your rare run-ins with each other— this might be the only time you’re alone with him.

The two of you sit there against the wall with unspoken thoughts until you both decide to speak up.

“I like how you smell.”

“I think you’re afraid of me.”

You blink. “Wait, what?”

Bucky turns his head, brows raised, clearly just as thrown off as you. “Did you just say—?”

The door flew across the room, startling the both of you. Immediately Bucky was on his feet, your gun in his hand, aimed and ready to fire. When the dust settled a figure stepped through the door frame carrying a familiar red white and blue shield.

“It’s Captain America.” You happily cheered, only realizing how loopy you felt after hearing your own voice.

Nat emerged from behind him, rushing to your side. At that moment a wave of sleep hit you, making it harder for you to keep your eyelids open.

What happened after was mainly a blur. You vaguely remember being escorted out of the building and onto the jet. You knocked out on the ride back, briefly waking up when you were being wheeled out. In that small moment you were awake you noticed Bucky talking to Steve, his eyes momentarily meeting yours before he looked away.

You couldn’t forget how sad he looked or the blood that stained his hands, even as your consciousness faded.

You wondered if it was still possible to blame what you said on the blood loss.

Once you woke up, Dr. Cho informed you about what happened. Turns out you were lucky Nat and Steve got there when they did and even luckier that Dr. Cho was there when you were wheeled in, otherwise things would’ve gotten complicated. When you were shot the bullet passed all the way through, meaning you got to skip surgery and head straight into the regeneration cradle.

You healed during the night and were free to leave in the early morning.

Once out of the lab you headed straight to the kitchen, desperate for the coffee you’ve been craving since yesterday. The kitchen is empty, understandably so given the sun is barely peeking past the horizon. It’s the perfect scene for you to reflect on why of all things you had to say ‘I like how you smell’.

While the journey back to the tower remained a blur, what you revealed in that building was clear as day in your mind. The embarrassing secret you revealed followed by Bucky’s heart shattering confession.

You slammed a cup onto the counter.

You kept your hands busy, preparing your coffee, hoping it would distract you from feeling your heart crack. There was no way you would let the conversation end like that. You knew Bucky was never one to talk about his feelings and he likely wouldn’t open up again, but you refused to let the opportunity pass. You had to know why he felt that way and correct him. You had to let him know he was wrong, that there was no universe where you could fear him.

You grabbed your cup of coffee and began heading to your room. Once you were done you would head over to Bucky’s room and—

The sudden collision with something, or rather someone, sent you a few steps back, causing you to spill your coffee all over your clothes.

“I am so—Bucky?”

You pause once you notice who you crashed into and can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vú.

Bucky looks shocked to see you. His eyes immediately look to your side in an almost paranoid manner. “What are you doing up?” He asks.

“I just got out of the lab. I came to get my coffee, but..” You looked down at your coffee soaked clothes.

Bucky winced. “Sorry..”

He rushed over to the kitchen counter, grabbing some paper towels and passing some to you before helping you clean up the spilled coffee on the floor. As you patted yourself dry you figured now was as good a time as ever. “So, what are you doing up this early?”

He paused for a moment, seemingly contemplating his next words before continuing to soak up the mess. “Couldn’t sleep. Tried to let out some energy at the gym.”

Your mouth moved faster than you could think. “Why?”

He didn’t answer, continuing to clean an invisible spot on the floor. He refused to make eye contact. You had a feeling you already knew the answer.

It’s no secret Bucky struggles with nightmares. You heard the screaming before Tony soundproofed every room. You also knew about the mandatory therapy sessions and how every time he came back from a rough mission the lights in his room stayed on just a bit longer, like he was trying to keep something at bay. You knew the mess of the last mission likely didn’t help ease his conscience.

“What happened back there wasn’t your fault you know.” You mumbled, but you know he heard you when he stopped wiping the floor. “I.. I should be the one apologizing.”

That caught his attention. He opened his mouth to respond but you quickly cut him off. “I wasn’t focused, I let my personal feelings distract me. And—” You took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I did to make you believe that I’m afraid of you, but I promise that’s the furthest thing I feel when I’m with you.”

“Most people are afraid of me, what I’ve done.” He whispered, but in that empty kitchen you felt like it echoed against every wall.

“I’m not most people. Bucky,” You crouch beside him. “You have been nothing but kind to me, to everyone. You think your past defines you, but I’ve seen who you are now. You’re always looking out for others and taking the hit just so we can make it out unharmed. You’re different now.”

You hesitantly reach out, gently placing your hand over his when he doesn’t pull away. “You carry all this pain like it's your punishment, like saving people and sacrificing yourself is the price you pay for what happened back then, but you don't owe anyone your suffering, Bucky. You deserve more, so much more."

Bucky doesn’t say anything at first. His jaw clenches, eyes fixed on a crack in the floor like it might split open and hopefully swallow him whole. You can practically feel the war happening behind his blue eyes—old guilt clawing at the edges because of what you just said.

Finally, he exhales through his nose. “Different doesn’t mean good.”

“It does to me.”

He huffs. “Every time we meet it’s like you can’t get away from me fast enough.”

“That!—” You feel your ears burn in embarrassment. He’s interpreted your skittish behavior around him as fear. “—is for a different reason..”

He looks at you unamused.

“Oh come on..” You groan. “I already embarrassed myself back at the building, don’t make me repeat it..”

When he refuses to answer you can only sigh.

“It’s not that I’m afraid of you, I just don’t know how to act around you without making a fool of myself. As you can clearly see,” You point down at your now coffee stained clothes. “If anything I’m afraid of how I feel about you, because I like you, but I don’t want to ruin what we have or pressure you into anything by saying it!”

The silence is deafening. You feel as though the room is on fire as embarrassment continues to course through your body. You contemplate leaving, slowly beginning to stand when Bucky responds.

“And if I said I was afraid of the same thing?”

You freeze.

“I thought you hated me and that made me hate myself even more.” He continued. “With everything I’ve done I thought there’s no way I’d be able to change your mind, to show you I’m.. different now. I didn’t think I deserved it.”

He stood up, throwing the coffee soaked paper towels into the trash. “You never got your coffee, did you?”

“At this point I think it’s a sign that maybe I should stop drinking so much.” You laugh, hoping he doesn’t hear how fast your heart is beating.

“So if I asked you out for coffee, you’d say no?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you’re nearly convinced he heard it when you see a hint of a smile on his face. “I never said that..” You mumbled, fiddling with the paper towel still in your hand.

He called your name and you couldn’t resist meeting his gaze. His eyes bore into yours as he hesitantly approached you. “Are you free later? I think I know a place that sells good coffee. I owe you at least one after, well, everything.”

You quickly nodded your head. “Yeah yeah, today’s good, I just gotta..” You look down at your outfit. It’s the same one you wore on the mission—covered in blood, sweat, and now coffee. “.. shower.”

Bucky quickly nodded. “Me too, I’ll uh.. pick you up at three?”

“Ok,” You laughed, waving at him while walking towards the hall. “See you later.”

Once you turned the corner you nearly let out a squeal, causing you to almost crash into Nat, who wore a suspicious smile on her face. “Nat! You scared me, what’re you doing here?” You place your hand over your heart, hoping it’d slow down. You’ve had enough excitement for the day.

“I had a feeling you’d be here, I thought you’d be alone though.” She snuck a glance behind you, clearing having caught you and Bucky together. You try to ignore her by walking away, but she’s quick to catch up. As you two walked further away from the kitchen she bumped her hip with yours.

“So.. besides getting shot and nearly bleeding out, how’d the mission go?” Nat asked.

You took a moment to think of an answer. You were shot, nearly bled to death in a hydra closet, and you revealed to your hallway crush that you liked how he smelled while he was attempting to have a emotional conversation with you.

“I’m so glad I took that mission.”

thank you for reading till the end! reblogs are greatly appreciated :D

masterlist

[kira-okamoto]

𝕄𝕪 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤 | Jake Sim x fem! reader

➳ Warning!: public sexual tension, explicit sexual content, fem! reader, Jake x fem! reader, Jay (side character), mutual teasing, footplay under the table, public teasing, orgasm denial, bondage (wrists tied), dominance/submission dynamics, begging, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, praise kink, pet names (princess, little slut), mild humiliation, group dynamics, mention of third party unaware of sexual activity, consensual power play. Words: 1.5 k

➳ Pairing!: Jake Sim x fem! reader

N/A: Here goes my fourth Enhypen one shot! I really hope you all are enjoying them ^^ Ayyy Jakey, my man <3 Honestly, it took me a bit longer to update because I’m swamped with exams… Anyway, I hope I can keep posting more soon ^^

》｡･♡ﾟ• ｡♡ﾟ･｡ More under the cut

You had gone out shopping with Jay and your boyfriend. Not because sweet Jay was playing third wheel or anything like that, but simply because the three of you shared a mutual friend and had decided to go out that day to buy him a birthday present—Sunoo’s birthday was just around the corner.

So here you are now. Standing in front of a shop window, arguing about what kind of things Sunoo might like.

“Definitely something cute. A big, adorable plushie, just like him,” argues Jake, your beloved boyfriend, glancing at your friend Jay, who just purses his lips.

You don’t say anything and let them argue.

Suddenly, you tune out of the conversation and out of any thoughts about Sunoo, who had been your friend for many years.

However, now you can only think about Jake. About Jake and how good he looks in that casual plaid lumberjack shirt that looks so good on him. About Jake and the way he’s rolled up his sleeves to show off his muscular, slightly veiny forearms—perfect for maybe biting a little. About Jake and the way his fingers are playing with the fold of his shirt that covers a bit of his thighs, since he’s nervous while trying to win the argument against Jay.

You try to snap out of it when both boys look at you now, seeking your opinion. But you just mumble and pull your mind away from the sinful thoughts you’ve been lost in.

But your panties are already soaked, and you do your best to avoid rubbing your thighs together in front of the boys, in public.

“I… I agree with Jay,” you mumble after a few moments, not really sure what he had picked. But you trust your friend’s good taste.

Jay smiles victoriously and your boyfriend gives you a sad look because he thought you’d support him. You just shrug and look away.

You all go into the store and buy all the gifts Jay suggested, and you just bite your lip every time Jake moves in a way that makes the muscles in his back stand out more. Or when he turns to look at you with those bright, loving eyes.

You shouldn’t be horny in public. You shouldn’t, but you are. And you’re so embarrassed about it.

Finally, with a few bags hanging from your arms because you offered to carry them—not fair that the guys always treat you like a princess, you want to show them you can spoil them too—you head to a cute café to grab something before heading home.

You have something planned.

Jake sits first in some comfy armchairs tucked away in a corner of the place. Then you sit across from him. Normally, with a friend, you’d sit next to your boyfriend, but… You use the bags as an excuse so Jay just raises his eyebrows and sits next to your boyfriend without saying anything.

You settle into your seats and order some drinks, which are served to you right away. You grab your cold milkshake and start sipping innocently through the straw. Well, “innocently.”

Under the table, you discreetly slip off one of your flats and slide your foot toward your boyfriend’s legs. At first, he takes it as a joke and smiles and laughs before shaking his head and going back to chatting about unimportant things while sipping his green grape soda.

But you move your leg higher up his calf until you reach his knee. Jake shoots you a warning look that Jay doesn’t see, since he’s busy checking the gifts for Sunoo.

He quickly looks away, a slight blush rising on his cheeks. But he’s a good actor, because when your friend focuses on him again, Jake hides the situation perfectly.

Silently, acting as if nothing strange is happening under the table, you move your leg a little higher. Jake gets the message and, pressing his thick lips together—the ones you’ll make sure to kiss later—spreads his legs a bit more and scoots closer to the table edge like nothing’s happening, so your friend doesn’t accidentally glance over and see something he shouldn’t.

Jay suspects nothing. He just drinks and talks and relaxes in the armchair. Completely unaware of your wicked actions. Poor thing, maybe you should treat him to that coffee he’s drinking right now.

You press your toes lightly against your boyfriend’s groin and Jake chokes on his drink.

“Hey Jake, you okay?” Jay raises his eyebrows, looking concerned.

Jake just clears his throat and gives you a harder look. Then he turns to Jay and makes up a convincing excuse. You don’t worry about him, you just flash a mischievous smile.

You move your foot a bit more, finding the growing bulge in his pants. You apply just a little pressure, but you see your poor boyfriend tense up and clear his throat.

That’s enough.

You pull your foot away, but Jake puts a hand under the table and tries to catch you before you do. But you’re faster, and with a few giggles, you slip your flat back on and settle into your cushioned seat.

Jay raises his eyebrows and looks at you both.

“Is there something going on I should know about?” he mutters, but quickly changes his mind. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

You’re definitely buying him that coffee.

Meanwhile, Jake gives you a look full of fire. You decide you don’t want to decipher it right now.

When you’ve finished your drinks and get up, you have a little dispute with Jay because you want to treat him. Although he refuses, you’re stubborn and end up winning, so you pay for his coffee.

When you go to pay, Jake follows you and you leave Jay alone with the gift bags for a moment.

Your boyfriend comes up to you and discreetly grabs your thigh. He presses a little closer to your body, his breath brushing your ear.

“I’m not letting you sleep tonight, huh, pretty?” he whispers, and his voice is two tones deeper. You shiver. “Someone hasn’t behaved very well in public…”

And, as promised, that night he has you tied to the bedpost.

Your wrists are bound together with his tie. Your thighs on either side of his shoulders, and Jake just alternates between the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your groin, your swollen, desperate clit, and your navel.

You’ve been teetering on the edge of orgasm for thirty minutes, but every time you feel like you’re about to fall and drown in the best pleasure of your life, Jake grabs you and keeps you from going over.

He smiles at you wickedly.

“Where’s the bad girl you were this afternoon?” he asks in a syrupy voice, stroking you with false sweetness.

You moan and squirm and whimper. Jake can be very versatile in bed, but when he gets this dominant, he just drives you crazy.

You bite your lips when you see your boyfriend’s tongue lick the soaked slit of your little pussy. He looks you right in the eyes, mischief dancing in his gaze. He bites your clit lightly, just enough to make you hold your breath, but not to hurt you.

And you whimper again when he moves his teeth away from your center and drags them languidly against your thigh, now red from the abuse he’s put it through.

“Where is she, huh?” he asks again, closing his eyes as he sucks on the inner skin of your thigh with his plump lips. “My little slut, so brave outside the bed… Tsk tsk, that behavior needs to be tamed.”

You get so turned on by his words that you arch your back again. His tongue has left your legs and is now trailing up your navel, licking the sweat from your body, burning from his touch.

“Please, Jakeee,” you’re forced to beg. You’re desperate. Desperate to feel something more than just the superficial touch of his tongue that’s driving you crazy.

The pleasure ride he’s putting you through is turning into a rollercoaster of ups and downs of pent-up pleasure. You moan his name.

“Please what? Hmm?”

“Please, fuck me, fuck me. I’m sorry, I won’t act like that in public again, but please…” you’re practically crying as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling like a beggar for pleasure.

You feel him laugh against your skin and he straightens up.

“Who said I don’t like you being that daring in public…? My little rebellious princess.”

He stands up and you look into his eyes, where you can see he’s finally given in to your pleas. He wraps you in his arms for a moment before kissing your lips, your cheeks, your neck where he leaves some bites.

“All right, princess. Spread those pretty legs for me, hmm?"