#dow chapter

[bumfuzzled-bee]

Pat pat.

[ladycathastrofe]

🌙 Lunar Cats 🌙

[magicalgirlmindcrank]

So i showed Dog Of War to my Girlfriend after we talked about the HDG and yeah

She really loves it!!! I sometimes see her reading the new chapters and being all giddy about it :D

So: Its good shit, you did good, you make her really happy ;D

awawawawawa

it's really so touching when people talk about how they've shared DoW with the people in their life cuz it means so much to them and they also get enjoyment out of it ;^;

[queenwendy]

I finally finished editing the second chapter and published it! I am slowly, very slowly, finishing this damned story and now there’s another part for me to share. This time, Hunter, Willow, Gus, and friends in Flyer Derby practice! Plus I wrote a little bit of backstory on Hunter and Darius.

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: The Owl House (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eda Clawthorne/Raine Whispers, Luz Noceda & Raine Whispers, Hunter | The Golden Guard & Luz Noceda, Amity Blight/Luz Noceda, Hunter | The Golden Guard/Willow Park, Eda Clawthorne & King Clawthorne & Luz Noceda Characters: Luz Noceda, Raine Whispers, Hunter | The Golden Guard (The Owl House), Eda Clawthorne, Lilith Clawthorne, King Clawthorne (The Owl House), Amity Blight, Willow Park, Gus Porter, Darius Deamonne, Eberwolf (The Owl House), Scooter Crane, Coven Heads (The Owl House), Skara (The Owl House), Viney (The Owl House) Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Pre-Epilogue, Mentorship, Found Family, Political Intrigue, Coven Heads and their Replacements, Flyer Derby (The Owl House), Refugees, The left arm is in the sky so it makes sense, I promise I started writing this long before all of the awful shit started happening in Palestine, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Compliant, as compliant as I can be, I am working in uncharted territory with a lot of this, Raine Teaches Luz Viola, Dell Teaches Hunter Palismen Carving, Y'all ever think about how messed up Raine must be from all the revolution leading?, To say nothing of Hunter being a child soldier and a clone, And Luz straight up DIED lamo, Angst, The cut scenes doc is 20k words longer than the rough draft doc, I am just going to publish this damn thing whenever I feel done with a chapter, And the prologue is DONE because I am NOT CHANGING IT AGAIN, and now beta read Series: Part 2 of Legends in the Making Summary:

After the Collector left the Isles, there was a lot of work to be done to put everything back together and figure out how to live free of the coven system. Plus, Luz Noceda has to re-learn magic, Hunter has to figure out his place in a world where he isn't a soldier, and Raine Whispers keeps having to deal with old Coven Heads popping up all over the Isles. If anyone thought the fight for a free Boiling Isles was over, they were sorely mistaken...

You do not need to have read the previous work in this serious, "Noceda's Allhallowtide" to read this fic.

[gifti3]

I need to get to paimons h scene asap

[vesselgame]

Leon was originally supposed to be a side character but he’s here in the scene now and he’s starting to grow on me. That might sound like a good thing, but he’s also dramatically changing the scene by trying to meddle and be a good husband. I already made the outline!! He’s not supposed to be doing this!!

[fairestwriting]

sorry if you’ve done something like this-

What about Jade, Leona, Jamil and Vil with a S/O that somebody tried to love potion?

…warning for minor book/chapter 4 spoilers in the jamil one? in case anyone is a newcomer here. there was just No way i could write this without mentioning his lore. like. come on

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

Honestly, it’d take anyone some serious guts to try to do this. Or serious ignorance. Or straight up hubris, or maybe all of the above at the same time— Since your first few friendlier hangouts with Leona, it was pretty much known to most people who knew you that you were completely off-limits. Even if you just stayed friends, no sane person was going to mess with anyone who’s close to him. It’s almost an unspoken, pretty much school wide rule.

It was an especially bad choice for that perpetrator to try to slip you the potion during lunchtime. Maybe they’re a classmate you barely know, maybe they pretend to be a friend, it’d definitely have to be someone who could get away with approaching you to pretend to want some casual conversation. This privilege was soon to end, however, since you had agreed with Leona to meet up with him at the greenhouse after you ate.

The second you step inside, he can smell that something is off. By then you can already feel it starting to take effect, your head feeling foggy and suddenly occupied with thoughts of that person, which just feels confusing for now. You walk up to him, he’s sitting up with a frown on his face, asking you to come closer. Hazy, you step forward, and through your clouded vision you see him leaning in to smell you. It feels weird at the moment, you’re not sure if you’re comfortable with this— Even though that’s your boyfriend, you think, maybe you’d rather be this close with someone else…

He can’t tell it’s a love potion exactly, at least not just by smelling you, but he knows something is off. “Have you been up to anything weird lately, Herbivore?” He asks, his voice full of suspicion. You just shake your head, mention your classes today were all unremarkable, then so was lunch, you just met up with your friend, while you were eating. Somehow you can’t stop yourself from letting the subject linger on them, even though it puzzles you on the inside. He quickly picks up on what must have happened.

Really, anyone who even considers trying this has some nerve. He even says that out loud to them, after dragging you out of the greenhouse into a hunt for this specific person. You won’t even get the chance to remember much about the incident. Next thing you know, you’re in one of the potions lab, with an emptied vial of antidote in your hands. Leona is standing next to you with crossed arms and a death glare, and your “friend” is shaking behind a cauldron, having prepared that in record time. Even if notice of the incident spreads, Leona definitely won’t want you to leave his side anytime soon…

𐙚 Jade Leech

Another case in which attempting anything with you is definitely a feat of courage. Even though there’s a higher chance they wouldn’t know you’re dating Jade in the first place, because of how private he is, he’s clearly fond of you. And that’s without even taking into consideration how often he’s around. Jade doesn’t have the sort of infamy Leona dows, but it’s not any less intimidating of a situation, anyone with eyes can tell he’s watching every person around him very closely…

They’d really have to get lucky to get you to consume even a single drop of anything. They might have even tried multiple times, in multiple different ways. Spiking your food or drink is not an option at all with him, because he’s sitting with you while you eat, and who would want to take that chance? If they got you, it was probably by offering you an “extra drink they got from the vending machine”, which might as well have been attempted before, with Jade successfully distracting you from the drink every time.

”My, how kind of you. I’ve heard that soda is very popular, is that true?” Somehow, he shows up just in time to strike up conversation with the person, placing a hand on the can they tampered with. ”I don’t recall seeing this brand back home. Would you mind if I had a small sip first?” He looks at them, then at you, with a strange menacing smile. Once again, that person is taking the can back and stammering excuses that make less and less sense as time passes…

If they’re brave/stupid enough, and you’re oblivious enough, Jade will just sneakily make himself your bodyguard, ready to catch any new attempts and stop them right before you could get the spiked drink anywhere near your lips. He’ll do it as many times as he has to— And if it goes on for long enough, and one day they decide to not take their little trap back, he will literally just open it and drink the whole thing. He���ll do it while making eye contact with them, even. “Oh, I’m sorry, my hand slipped. It’s really unfortunate when that happens, isn’t it? It’s very easy to forget, since most of the time it doesn’t cause any harm… But the wrong ‘slip’ could really cost you your hand, you know… It’s important to be careful.” He doesn’t look away from them for even one second.

You’re confused as hell, Jade is weird a lot of the time, but just what’s going on right now? He hands them back the can, and just waves his hand at your question, telling you he’ll explain on the way as he walks off to get some antidote. From the nurse, specifically. And it’s not because he can’t make his own, because he could probably do it before the dizziness even hit— It’s to get your little “friend” in trouble with the staff, he’ll even play up the symptoms to make sure they get a nasty suspension… Even if they’re not expelled, you somehow never see them again.

𐙚 Jamil Viper

Not happening. At all. You have no “off limits” fame, no one knows you’re dating (Upon Jamil’s own request) and even if they did, they wouldn’t be that intimidated to try to make a move on you normally. He’s too busy to be lingering around you too much, plus he just wants you to have your own independence in general… everything is seemingly stacked in the favor of that person who wants to slip you the potion, but it’s nowhere near enough to get past Jamil. It just could never be.

…So you’d think it’d be easy for someone to catch you off guard, try to slip something in your food or drink. But there’s just no way that potion isn’t even making it into the vial. Really, with the upbringing Jamil had, could any fellow teenager manage to fly under his radar when trying to tamper with your things? Not a chance. He’s learned to spot real, professional assassins going after Kalim. Catching on to some other student’s creepy behavior is nothing to him.

He knew it before he even heard that person’s name, or saw them talk to you with his own eyes. It just takes a few conversations about this weird classmate of yours who you started suspecting might like you for him to be able to tell they don’t have good intentions. ”...I know I might sound paranoid, but I think you should be careful around them.” Is all he says, when you two talk about it the first time. You know him well enough to be aware of how serious that warning is.

Nothing is said after that, but he’s watching them closely too. You don’t eat lunch together that often, but Jamil always watches your table from afar when he’s not there. At first it’s just out of habit, but now that he’s got an eye on this person, their every move has your full attention. And it’s all just too familiar, the way they seem to also watch your table, or more specifically, watch you while you eat. He can even sense their frustration at how guarded you’ve gotten since his warning.

You’ll never even hear about a possible poisoning attempt because he catches them in the middle of their potion brewing— With a good chance he wasn’t even trying to do that. He just happened to spot them acting weird in the hallways, and decided to investigate. Following them to the laboratory, standing outside of the door to see what’s happening, maybe take a video or two. He then walks inside, no notable expression on his face, and speaks to them. ”I wouldn’t do this if I were you. Even making this potion outside of class could get you in serious trouble.” Nothing else is said, he shows them the video on his phone screen, and walks off. Next thing you hear, they got suspended, an when they come back, they won’t even dare to meet your eyes.

𐙚 Vil Schoenheit

The day you two agreed you’d make your relationship official, you also had a very long talk about the things that it might entail—The worries had been stewing in his mind for a while now, at first regarding his own reputation, but eventually they turned their focus to you. He’s had people interacting strangely with people who were just his dormmates, so one could only wonder how they’d treat someone they suspect is his partner…You’re warned at the very start that it’s a good idea to be cautious of others. But because it’s Vil, and he has all those vocal, sometimes fanatic admirers that are seemingly just everywhere, it can be kind of sadly easy to forget that this type of person could fixate on you too.

It becomes a bit of a dilemma for him, when he hears about this classmate of yours you’ve been talking to occasionally. On one hand, of course he wants you to have friends, he’s not crazy. On the other, he already has a weird feeling from the interactions you describe. Then under all his common sense, he just feels sort of jealous in general. You might notice he suddenly looks alarmed, and he might even remind you it’s important to be careful with others. But even if you take it to heart, would you really outright assume they were planning anything so creepy?

It’s a thankful coincidence that dating Vil also means learning a lot about potions. You often sit around in the Pomefiore dorm laboratory while he’s doing something, and he’s happy to explain the process to you however many times you need. Ironically, the specific subject of attempted love potion slips might come up. It happens to celebrities often, after all, it’s not crazy to think someone would try to get to him— ”They teach you to not eat or drink anything a fan gives you. You accept it if they’re handing it out, but you don’t touch it. And it’s not just for the sake of keeping up with your diet.” He retells you what he was taught. ”You don’t even donate it, since it could be tampered with. Usually, there are tells, but not always…”

Then question becomes, how skilled could another student get, specifically when compared to how observant you can be? It could go either way here. It’s easy to be alarmed by anyone offering you snacks or drinks after Vil tells you these stories, but you’re not a celebrity, so would that really happen to you? What if you’re just forgetful, or they really manage to get you at a moment when you’re vulnerable? Luckily, no matter how sneaky someone is, they can’t hide the effects of the potion forever. On the color of your drink, the smell, the taste… or, in a worst case scenario, in the way it feels when it starts to kick in.

You’ll know something is wrong, and he’s lectured you enough you know to get an antidote from the nurse if needed, and you know to report it to school staff. It’s dealt with quickly enough, but no matter when he finds out, he’s outraged all the same. ”How does a student get away with even trying to brew something like this? Staff shouldn’t allow just anybody to use laboratories unsupervised…” Vil fusses over you, smoothing your clothes just so his hands have something to do. Even if you didn’t swallow any of the potion, he tells you to take the day off to rest and stays nearby. Of course he wouldn’t just let the situation be solved without reacting, but first, he has to be sure you’re safe.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[v1x3n]

SHOWER TIME ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - angst - nightmare mention, hospital setting, scars, depression, neglect.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

After being taken to the infirmary, your body had uncontrollably decided to take a long sleep, your dreams full of the terrors your best friends had caused you. Your dreams reminisce on the before, on the time where everything was okay, the time where you had a friend group and your job was going well. But that had to end, didn't it? 

Nothing good could ever happen to you. 

Waking up, you don't even know how long you slept for, you discover your bandages on your body changed. Still bloody but they were fresh material, you were in new clothes - well clothes. Head goes dizzy when you look around the room, taking in everything you could see. The high white walls with no decoration, the window that you could look out from on your so-called bed, the cream curtains that hung but were swept to the side - bringing in bright light from the outdoors. The outdoors, something you hadn't seen in what, a month? You couldn't remember anymore. You felt disoriented, angry yet also sad. You felt every fucking emotion you didnt have time to feel during the attacks, all at once. Eyebrows squeezing together, looking to the side of your sheets, a small wooden chair was placed there. After gulping you peek at the table next to your bed, there was also a sink in the corner. Usual hospital room, tv and two doors, one leading out into the hallways and one to a bathroom. And that was that. 

There was one thing that made your heart furious though, an arrangement of colourful flowers, wrapped in a light pink ribbon sat on the table beside you. Frowning as you peer at the beautiful petals you look away, they ruined you, ruined your body, your life and all they give you is fucking flowers? You knew it was one of them, you had not built that much of a relationship with anyone else and they were your favourite flowers. Only the 141 knew your favourites, cheap fucking way of saying sorry. You hadn't even heard the words come out from any of their mouths yet, fucking pathetic. enraged, angry, furious and irritated were only some of the words you were feeling. 

Soon it had been a week, lay in that stupid fucking room. At Least you had met a few people, you met a few nurses who came by to feed you, check up on you and help your wounds. And you had met a patient in the room next to yours, he was sweet towards you, you never spoke to him though. He did most of the talking, his name was Logan and honestly in the week you had known him for - he was growing on you. He came by everyday, he was very nosy though, very extroverted. Luckily he never demanded answers from you, he always spoke, sometimes you would reply with a shrug or a small nod. You couldn't tell if he had heard about what happened to you though, he never touched you and he was always so gentle, dunno. Maybe he was just nice.

Scars were left all over your form, a healing cut on your cheek that wouldn't take that long to fix - just a very quick and painful stitch up!, your legs just starting to become responsive, rope marks dug in your skin from how tightly they displayed you on that cold pole. 

Drugged up on antibiotics wasn't the best feeling, you had a few infected wounds down your body, the one on your lower womb was ugly. It looked diabolical, but luckily you were on many pills so life is okay! Looking down at your hands, the missing fingers was just another example of the pain the four caused you. 

Just when you were about to spew tears from your tear ducts, a light shadow covered you. When did he come in? 

Your captain sat on the wooden chair beside you, he didn't speak, just looked down at his raggy boots. You were glad he didn't speak, but deep down you kind of wanted him too because this was far too awkward. Glaring down at your lap, you refused to speak to him, just as you tried to turn around the door swings open. The nurse you were closest to walks in and sees the two of you. The obvious tension floods the air, flowing out the open door when Jane starts talking, “morning, honey” she smiles and takes slow steps up to you. 

You dont reply. 

“We need t’ get you into the shower” she mumbles to you, peeling off the sheets that covered your battered body. You were ashamed that the nurse had to physically get you up and take you to the shower but your legs just wouldn't cooperate with you. A twisted and healing ankle paired with weak legs and then on top of that the depression that comes along with all of this summed up too being unable to help yourself up. You couldn't do anything for yourself, they tore you limp by limp and now you weren't the strong soldier you were before. All thanks to them. “Okay” a light voice sounds from you through a sigh, almost whispering, not wanting that fucking man next to you get the pleasure of hearing your voice. Letting the nurse help you get out of the bed, Jane looks down at your form, your skin and your trauma.

“Healing well, hm? Did nurse poppy give you your pills this morning?” Jane asks, tilting your head up gently to take a look at the slight slit on your throat. When the man right next to you was about to end your life.

What is the saying? Each scar tells a story but every story leaves a car. Something like that.

Nodding at the nurse's question makes the corners of her lips twerk up into a small yet genuine smile, “good, now let's get you up, hm?” you could almost feel john's eyes burning into you while the nurse helps you get up, your weak limbs drop as you stand on your feet, jane instantly gripping you and jolting you back up, an arm wrapped around you to help you walk. 

You were thankful for the nurses, obviously they knew what had happened and they were nothing but gentle and sweet with you, they never tried to do anything that would trigger you and knew to check up on you, make sure you were eating, drinking, sleeping and things like brushing your teeth and showering. You felt kind of useless. Not  being able to do anything for yourself but it wasn't exactly your fault though was it? 

Jane took you towards the bathroom and Price still just kind of sat there, in your hospital room - staring at your bed.

“You can do it yourself, yeah?” Jane helps you sit on the lip of the toilet seat, the bathroom was sterile and white. The smell of bleach attacked your nose, you looked at the shower. The shower head pours down water at a fast pace when the woman in front of you turns the knob around, you almost flinch at the sound of the water hitting the shower floor. “C'mon” she mumbles, taking your arm to help you limp into the shower, as soon as the water hits you - you flinch. Taking in an old memory, instantly you back up to the wall, “i-i can't” you shake, gulping down, staring at the dropping water splattering over the floor. Breath picking up as you breathe in harshly, “i cant - i cant” you repeat as if the nurse hadn't heard you, she quickly leans over to grab the sponge that was placed under the shower head, she places it in your hand, “its okay, honey, don't worry.” jane coos while you shake, “you don't gotta, just scrub yourself down outside the shower, you don't have t’ go in if you can't” 

Thank god for this sweet woman. After nodding she leaves you to your own devices.

Taking a glance at the shower and then down at your sponge, you sigh. How could you let yourself become this pathetic. A panic scares you when you hear sounds coming from outside the bathroom door, a deep voice which was so obviously johns then a softer voice which you would only match it to janes.

“Is she okay?” Jane's ears picked up John's voice, still sitting on the wooden chair but he was facing the bathroom door. “You know they dont want you here” she states, walking past him to clean up your sheets. 

“I needed to see them.” All Jane does is sigh, “they can't see you right now, i understand it's hard but it's harder for her” john looks down at his boots, in  defeat. Closing his eyes and biting his tongue, this was hard for him - it was hard for everyone. 

All of the 141 missed you, missed talking to you, seeing you and missed their relationship with you. No one knew how to go about the situation, nobody knew what to do. How to make it right, how to make it the same as before. They all just thought; they didn't know what else to do, they all thought it was you and the signs pointed to you. 

The job is ugly, it's disgusting, that's what it is.but there's nothing they can do about it, it's all a part of the job.

[nymphea0]

Then can I request a continuation of that oneshot with Matthias? I was wondering what their marriage life and parenthood is like. Thank you in advance!! 🥰

The Duke And His Secret

Yan! Matthias x Reader

Oneshot Story (Special Chapter).

(Warnings : Balcony mature scene at the end.)

*Minors are prohibited from reading this story🚫*

Manhwa : 울어 봐, 빌어도 좋고.Cry, Even Better if You Beg. Cry, Even if You Pray.

Author & Ilustration : Solche & Van Ji

Word Count ; 1.395 word.

Hello this is Neva🦋, hope you have a nice and happy day, it's been a long time since I updated any story whether it's manhwa or Oc. sorry about that, I'm currently very focused on making a "supernatural" expecially Vampire character series project investigating and deepening it so that the character I make doesn't seem stiff and my darlings enjoy reading it. So heres some matthias cup of tea story (^3^), hope you like it Anon🦋, Lots of love - Neva🦋🦋

Might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story, much love.- Neva🦋

- Main story : The Duke and His Secret

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The residence of the Duke of Arvis, the kingdom of Berg.

The atmosphere of the residence was very cheerful, full of laughter from the 2 children of the opposite sex.

One had jet black hair like the color of a crow's feathers, with bright blue eyes like the sky. The other had snow-white hair with amethyst purple eyes.

The servants in the residence could only blush in excitement seeing the two children who were only 8 years old.

2 children, siblings, with different genders. The older brother was a man with black hair like a crow, while the younger sister, a woman with snow-colored hair.

Both of them played and ran with each other in the garden

While on the other side of the garden under the tree, there was a table with a complete set of tea and also a light side dish for the mouth that went well with tea, Pastry.

There were two women sitting there, one was no longer young, estimated to be 80 years old, while the other, still looked young but not so young, estimated to be 50 years old.

The two women were, Elysee von herhardt, and Norma Catharina Von herhardt, daughter-in-law and mother-in-law, who were both watching their grandchildren.

Felix Von Herhard and Airedith Von Herhard. Felix and Aire. Siblings who were only 1 year apart. The servants said they were Irish twins. Because they were only 1 year apart.

Norma stared at the two little children playing with each other, the woman was no longer young, she felt very sad if she couldn't play with them.

While Elysee occasionally smiled and drank tea elegantly, her eyes staring towards the balcony of their manor house. There Elysee could see her affectionate son and daughter-in-law.

In fact, as Elysee remembered when Matthias brought you to the Herhardt residence for the first time, a forced marriage that made your parents agree, you really didn't like being close to Matthias, but as the saying goes, struggle will never give disappointing results. The fact that Matthias desperately shows that he does love you, sincerely even though his way at the beginning was wrong.

Slowly you accepted Matthias, he never forced you to make love or do things he wanted but you didn't like, he listened to your wishes, all your anger, even though at the beginning you were afraid Matthias would hurt you, but he didn't do that.

Matthias even went to a psychiatrist to help overcome how to eliminate apathy and grow an attitude of sympathy and become caring and willing to accept differences of opinion, rejection and so on.

There Elysee could see how Matthias kissed your cheek affectionately, if Elysee remembered again the woman wanted to laugh at how Matthias' expression said love but with a flat expression.

Like father, like child. The fruit does not fall far from the tree, that's Matthias, just like his father.

.

.

You are relaxing on the balcony, enjoying the hot spring, so warm but shady.

Down there, in the garden, you see your mother-in-law, Elysee and Matthias' grandmother, Norma, busy staring at Felix and Aire who are playing with each other, your and Matthias' children.

While your husband? Matthias, the man is busy cooing affectionately behind you, kissing your bare shoulder affectionately because you are wearing an Off-shoulder dress. Damn, this man knows the opportunity in adversity.

Many things have happened during the 9 years you have been with Matthias, you have faced the ups and downs together, but you know that Matthias wants to learn and tries to prove himself. As a result, the man becomes like a cat in heat, always wanting to be close and not wanting to be far away.

"Matty! Don't bite! Later mom and grandma will see, I'll be embarrassed"

You complain because this time Matthias bites and sips lovingly leaving a mark on your bare shoulder.

While Matthias, the man is only busy kissing, sucking your shoulder and neck, his hands also don't stay still on your thigh, stroking affectionately. Never mind that it was currently in public, but fortunately the balcony railing was 100% covered with carved marble, so the people below only saw that Matthias and you were just hugging.

"Don't refuse like that my love, it's your own fault for wearing such revealing clothes, this is called an invitation for me"

Matthias continued kissing and nuzzling your shoulder and neck.

"Felix and Aire are already 8 years old, isn't it time for them to have a new sibling?"

"No! Wait until they are 10 years old, then a new sibling"

Too bad, your husband didn't accept the rejection, instead Matthias stared with a mischievous grin.

.

.

Elysee chuckled softly at what she had just seen, causing amazement at Norma and the 2 little kids who were currently sitting in front of them, resting because they were tired of running and playing.

Norma snorted and drank her tea slowly, softly asking.

"What made you chuckle so cutely Elysee?"

Elysee just smiled shaking her head, and poked Felix's cheek which was a copy of Matthias and also rubbed Aire who was busy eating pastry.

"Nothing mom, I think we need to build another house"

Blinking one eye mischievously at her mother-in-law Norma, while Norma who was given that just laughed happily.

Wiping away tears slowly because she was tired of laughing. Norma knew exactly what Elysee meant, a new presence, a new member, Felix and Aire's future sibling.

"Well, at least our Matthias is full of energy to want to have lots of children"

The two middle-aged women laughed together, making the two little children in front of them look at each other, shake their heads slowly and just continue eating the pastry served in front of them.

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.

.

On the balcony, Matthias was still busy kissing your shoulder and neck affectionately which was so tempting to his desire.

His hands were so adept at entering your lower dress, rubbing your soft thighs gently with full squeezes passion.

"Matt! Not here!"

You tried to protest Matthias, but like talking to a wall, Matthias ignored your protest.

Until his ladder slipped into your underwear, rubbing your sensitive intimate area slowly.

"Matthias!?". The more firmly you refused, the wilder Matthias became.

"What love? I know you enjoy it"

Matthias naughtily sucked your neck slowly, while his 2 fingers were busy moving back and forth in your sensitive area, so deep and expert.

You were only able to hold back your moans, afraid that a servant would pass through the balcony door or Grandma and mother would see you both suspiciously from down there, as much as possible you acted normal.

"Come on love, don't be so shy, I know you enjoy it"

Your ass was slapped lightly by Matthias deliberately full of temptation.

His hands got faster when he felt your walls squeezing his fingers.

"Want to come out love? Yes? Come to me love, came to my hands"

Until, you came hard! Both of your hands covered your mouth to muffle your moans, your eyes closed while your legs shook unable to bear the weight.

While Matthias' fingers were still busy moving slowly, down there, Matthias could feel and see the puddles of water falling. You squirted, it turned out.

Matthias chuckled softly and kissed your cheek tenderly.

Matthias passionately devours your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth, tracing every inch of your mouth. Claiming it to be his.

You who are out of breath try to pat Matthias' chest, but Matthias this man is full of passion, so you bite his lips and scratch his neck, causing blood spots on his lips and neck.

Matthias just winces softly before pulling your hair back, not too roughly but not too slowly, enough to make you look at him.

Matthias' passionate eyes stare directly at you, whispering sensually right in front of your lips, while licking the corner of your lips affectionately.

"Feels so good love? Do you want to continue here or in the room hmm?"

Damn, your fate is so unlucky to marry this shameless nobleman but god, you cant hold your heart, you love this man, as same as matthias love you.

His secret, his little heaven secret.

.

.

.

Tag list; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger @rai-xxx @thehopingfairy @ryusooze @yaoduriaa @merveeeeesworld

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions, Always be good people Dear. Much love, Neva🦋🦋.

©️Nymphea0 2024 , OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Story.

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 3 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.7k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, mature language, lots of screaming into your pillow moments, litol bit of #domesticity, FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFF, angst if you squint??????????, the x file spoiler lol, suits cameo (me inserting my niche interests into conversations), the biggest warning of this part is: naked jungkook 💀

NOTES sorry for being almost 3 hours late efhkjdhfd i overestimated my abilities a bit mb mb anyway, AGAIN, i want to thank you guys for the overwhelming support! i want to take this opportunity to announce that i'll be taking a break from nb for  around 2 weeks to work on my new jungkook one-shot fic that i will be posting for his birthday ❤️ if you are interested, i have posted the teaser on my tumblr page. LASTLY pls let me know your thoughts!! i LOVE LOOOVEEE reading every single one of your replies/reblogs/asks. i hope you enjoy this one and have a good weekend ahead!!!!!! 

NB!JK VISUALS | TAGLIST OPEN (REPLY IN THE COMMENT SECTION. PLS DO NOT SEND AN ASK ABOUT IT)

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO | THREE

You always wonder how a company this big seems to not have any budget lent for a copier that actually works – something that one doesn’t need to violently slap just for it to function perfectly.

You’ve been a victim not just once but five times to its inefficiency, the recent mishap being a month ago when the ink blots jumped right over the cuff of your shirt. 

With the way that you’ve been harassing the copier at the very moment, you’ll say it’s about to do you wrong for the sixth time and you absolutely can’t let it happen anymore – not when you’re currently wearing a white polo shirt that stupidly costs a little too much more than anything in your wardrobe (you decided to spend a little more than usual last New Year’s).

So, with a last unnecessary kick to the bottom of the machine (out of pure spite) you left the copier room of your floor and think, fuck it – go to the IT department and ask Taemu to back you up from his supervisor so you can use their copier instead – which is something you’re not so sure of. 

It’s embarrassing to go there just to ask him for help. Not with your history. But admittedly not that much of a history. After all, he seems to be cool with you and everything seems to be pretty chill. You can just go there; ask a little favor from a friend, and then hurry down to your floor.

There are some other options, though. Like, you can always ask the intern to do it for you. But the thing is, you kind of feel bad for those three. Your co-workers are doing a lot already; asking to fetch them things all around the building, buy them snacks, stuff like that. There’s another one but she’s way too quiet and didn’t really take shit from any of her seniors… which is kind of intimidating – but she's someone you wish you were when you were also an intern. You personally don’t want to help cultivate a somewhat toxic journey for the other three because you also started the same way as them. Beyond that, it would also be too rude to ask favors from Taemu indirectly.

You’re ultimately left with little and only one choice.

The elevator dings and the doors open after it does so. 

One of the people in it is a woman you’ve never met around before. Long, black hair; tailored suit, slender figure, and a posture that screams she’s never hunched her back in her entire life. 

Other people that entered at the same time as you start to bow their heads down slightly and greet a polite, “Good afternoon.” 

You mirror their gesture as well. 

As you step inside and settle on a spot, you wonder who she is. 

An executive, maybe? She looks very put-together, and there’s authority that hangs over her frame… but exceptionally young in the physical aspect. Jungkook is also young, though – and he’s an executive, so that’s entirely possible. Additionally, others seem to know her. Or they're just pretending to know her like you did. Did you miss a ceremony? A meeting? Or did you gloss over some HR email again? You’ll have to check later to find out if that’s the case. 

Anyway, your curiosity doesn’t last long when the elevator doors open once again, indicating the IT department floor. 

You already texted Taemu awhile ago that you were on your way so he should meet you on-time. 

As you walk down the hallway with your phone in your hand, your attention is caught by a familiar voice.

“Hey,”

You look up from your phone and see Taemu waving not too far away, heading towards your direction. It doesn’t take him long to get near you. When he does, you give him a smile.

“Taemu, hi.” You say as a small greeting. Taemu lifts his hand and you thought he was going for a high-five, so you lift your hand as well to meet the gesture. But then he leans in closer, one arm about to enclose your waist, and that’s when you realize he was actually gearing up for a hug.

Taemu seems to register that you weren’t exactly going for the same thing, so he steps back. He seems shy when you look at him in confusion.

“Oh, okay, sorry,” He offers his hand again, but just when you’re already thinking about hugging him because that was what he originally meant to do, he speaks just as you lean in closer to hug him. “I thought we were high-five-ing?” 

Embarrassed, your hands retreat to yourself.

“I thought... you wanted to hug?” You chuckle. 

“Okay, let’s just—” Taemu steps closer again and this time, it’s more than clear to you what he wants to do.

You reciprocate the hug he gives.

“This is so stupid.” You say, chuckling against his neck. The contact is quick as you two simultaneously break apart.

Taemu laughs at your remark, nodding his head. Then he gestures ahead, pointing to the direction of the copy room.

“Your copier not working again?” He asks as you walk down the hallway together. 

You heave a sigh. “Yeah, they really need to change that one. Anyway, have you told Mr. Lee?” You ask, referring to his supervisor. 

Teamu nods his head, opening the door to the copy room for you. 

“Yeah, it’s fine with him. Just sign the logbook and stuff.” 

“Thanks, Taemu.” You say, quickly getting to work, feeling slightly delighted at how their machine smoothly does its job and not like the one at all in your department. “Hey, I’m really sorry for bothering you with this.” You lament as you wait for the paper to slide out.

Taemu waves his hand, shaking his head at you. “It’s fine.” 

You purse your lips into a thin line, giving him a somewhat apprehensive smile. The paper comes out and you get your thing. After a quick scan to see if the copier got everything right, you look back at Taemu to say, “Thanks again, Taemu. I really appreciate this.” 

“No worries. Anytime.”

When you announce that you’re done, Taemu calls your name.

“Hm?” You hum, looking at him and wait for his next words.

He looks coy when he rubs a hand on the back of his head.

“Can I take you out for lunch?” He says, and you still in your position. Taemu seems like he surprised himself with his own words. You open your mouth to speak but then he beats you to it quickly, “It’s not a date. I phrased that as a date – but it’s not – ah, this is all coming out wrong,” Taemu chuckles, interrupting himself. With his hands in his slacks' pockets, he leans to a random table inside the room and looks at you with a more confident stance this time, as if he just gave himself a quick internal pep talk after jumbling his words. “What I meant to say is, if we can go out for lunch together today?” 

You chuckle. You were just about to say yes. Contrary to his assumption, you didn’t really take his first question as an invitation for a date. Besides, he helped you with the copier today.

Nodding your head, you offer him a grin as you say, “Yeah. I’ll go to lunch with you.” 

Taemu walks you to the elevator even though you said he doesn’t need to. He's insistent but you let it, anyway.

Taemu puts his hands on both sides of the door before it closes. The ride is pretty much empty except for yourself.

“When are you off?” He asks.

You think about it for a moment. “Is 12:15 okay?”

Taemu nods. “Sure. See you at 12:15?” 

“Yeah. Later.” 

The elevator closes and you laugh to yourself when you catch Taemu awkwardly waving his hand at you goodbye.

“No, you didn’t, I kicked your ass at mini golf!” You say, laughing as Taemu looks at you with squinted eyes, obviously saying that was absolutely not what happened on your date a few months ago.

“Uh, you disregarded all the rules.” 

You roll your eyes. “Okay, fine. Rules do not matter, though. It’s just some stick and a ball and… fake grass.” 

Taemu laughs, surrendering his hands to the air, nodding when he says, “Fair, fair.” 

You’re currently at a restaurant not too far away from your company building. It took Taemu and you about five minutes to get here; just a quick waiting time to cross the pedestrian lane to get from one street to the other.

Looking around, you can actually see some people inside wearing your company lace. The restaurant’s sort of like a famous spot around the company, though, so it doesn't necessarily surprise you. You’ve also had a few company dinners here some time ago. 

Safe to say, lunch with Taemu is going… okay so far.

No – actually, it’s way better than you thought it would be.

You could have never, ever predicted that you’ll be out with him alone again after… you know, ghosting him. Your whole assessment of his character has also changed a bit after the whole fiasco.

See, some guys start feeling entitled over your permission and consent when you entertain them even just for a bit. When you go on dates and you break it to them that it’s just not working out between you two, they start to act weird. Like you’ve hurt them. Or that you lead them on – even though it’s absolutely not the case. 

But Taemu’s proving himself to be different. You honestly expected him to act like that guy because he seems the type after your first date. But he surprises you by acting the total, complete opposite.

He’s so… nice. So casual. Like nothing happened. You feel bad because right now, you've officially confirmed to yourself that you totally misjudged him. 

You can’t believe you’ll say this, but Taemu is not an asshole. Like at all.

Even now, you’re recalling what happened to your date and laughing about some of the memories of it, and it feels so long ago you’re starting to remember it differently.

“Anyway, this milkshake’s really good,” you say, taking your glass and looking at it curiously. 

“Yeah? I told you,” Taemu grins, eating from his own plate. 

“You always come here?” You ask out of curiosity since he seems to be familiar with the menu. 

“Sort of? I mean, I try to take in the city as much as I can.” You nod, recalling what he told you before. He came from Daegu, and it’s his first time in Seoul.

Before you can say anything to that, the waiter comes to your table and gives you your bill. 

Taemu and you simultaneously take out your wallets. When he sees you do it, though, he’s quick to shake his head, gesturing for you to not bother.

“No, no, it’s fine. I got it.” 

“I got it, too,” You say, smiling at him, already picking out your card, ready to put it inside the check presenter.

“__,” Taemu says your name while chuckling. “I swear, it’s fine. I was the one who invited you for lunch.” 

“Taemu,” You call him, using the same tone he used. Taemu grins at that. “I think we should split the bill.”

It’s only fair, you think. You ate pretty much the same thing.

You hold what felt like a minute staring competition until Taemu gives in and lets you stack your card on top of his in the booklet.

You’re about to resume eating – pick up on the conversation you left a few minutes ago – when your phone dings on the table, a message popping out on the notification center.

When you read the contact name, your eyes widen but you relax your face real quick lest Taemu asks questions. 

“Sorry,” you say, pointing to your phone. Taemu nods, understanding. You pick the device in your hands, turn to your other side to not be rude, and read the text from Jungkook. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:47pm]: hey I bought you lunch Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:48pm]: i was gonnna ask you to go with me earlier but I got busy with some papers 

Shoot.

You’ve done a pretty good job of not thinking about Jungkook at all for the entirety of the day. You woke up so early this morning that you waited for twenty whole minutes for your bus just so you can avoid seeing Jungkook because everytime his name pops up in your thoughts, you remember what you did the night before and it just messes with your head so much.

Listen, you aren’t embarrassed about trying to get yourself off. It’s just masturbation. It’s a carnal need and it’s totally normal. What you are not proud of is the way you thought about him – out of all people – and how it actually made you feel… a little more motivated to get yourself there. 

But it’s a slip-up. A big mistake. 

How are you supposed to look him in the eyes after that and act like you didn’t do what you did? Granted, you did stop before it escalated. But still, the point is that you thought about him while you were pleasuring yourself. Even if it was for a tiny bit second, it still counts!

Stupid fucking ovulation, you think to yourself with bitterness. You’re a much better person without it, you swear. You don’t go around thinking about men when you try to get yourself off, not at all! Personally, your head is mostly blank when you go through it.   

But Jungkook left two texts. And he’s probably seen the read tag on his end already. 

You [12:49pm]: I just got lunch ): thank you for buying me one tho that’s really nice ofu

You turn your phone off after sending your reply, placing it on the empty space of your table. When you look at Taemu, he’s eyeing something behind you. With furrowed brows, the question about what he’s looking at is on the tip of your tongue when he suddenly says,

“Isn’t that Mr. Jeon?” 

“W-what?” You stammer, not sure if you heard him right.

The knots on Taemu’s forehead fades, and then he nods to himself. “I’m pretty sure that’s Mr. Jeon. He’s going this way.” 

“Wha—”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon.” Taemu stands up from his seat and does a slight bow for greeting. 

Without thinking about it, you mirror Taemu’s action, bowing your head longer than necessary. 

“Good afternoon, M-mr. Jeon,”

It’s no use to avoid his gaze, though.

When you look at Jungkook, he seems pretty much just as surprised to see you. You look away, but your eyes fall to his hand, and you see that it carries a take-out paper bag from the restaurant. You think about his text. 

“Good afternoon.” Jungkook says with an easy-going smile. He goes from surprised to casual real quick and glosses over you as if he doesn’t know you. 

You don’t really know how that makes you feel. 

“I was just going, have fun with your lunch.” He says and politely bids his goodbye, going straight to the direction of the restaurant’s door. 

“He’s really cool, you know?” Taemu brings up when you both sit down again. 

“I— huh?”

“You must have heard about the new project they’re starting at the end of this month, right?” He asks curiously.

You sit there stunned. Stunned from earlier’s interaction with Jungkook but also because you don’t really know what the hell Taemu’s talking about.

“No… I didn’t get any memo…?” You say instead, trying not to act way too oblivious lest he thinks you’re lazy or something. Not that it matters! You’re not trying to impress him or anything. 

Taemu nods. “Well, you’ll probably know about it soon.”  

But your head's too far gone now, still stuck on what happened a minute ago.

You look over at your phone while Taemu speaks, hoping for it to light up with a new notification from the messaging app. 

A few minutes passed by and it doesn’t, even when you leave the restaurant.

You don’t really know why you’re here. 

It’s been three days since that night in Jungkook’s place where you tried to bake in his kitchen, so it’s also been three days since you started practicing during the nights after work to perfect your cookies. Tonight, it just so happens that the cookies finally taste edible and honestly, it’s more than okay. 

So, maybe that’s why you find yourself in front of Jungkook’s door with a plastic container in your hands, decently-baked cookies prettily arranged inside. 

Jungkook was with you when you made those pathetic excuses for cookies, so you thought it’s only fair for him to try these ones and tell you what he thinks. Brag a little. Maybe have a little chitchat if he’s free or whatever.

It’s also… sort of like a peace offering for something he doesn’t need to know about. You can’t tell him you’re sorry for thinking about him when you did the deed because that’s just plain weird. 

Speaking of weird, though, the interaction from yesterday left you feeling a little empty. There’s this gnawing feeling inside of you that something went wrong – but you can’t exactly point out why. Jungkook also hasn’t texted you after that – which isn’t out of the ordinary. You don’t text everyday and you don’t meet every single day, either – for the record. You’re both busy people. You can only imagine Jungkook’s schedule.

Anyway, if there’s anything that you learned about your friendship with Jungkook, it’s that you don’t need to lie to him. You just have to knock on his door and he’ll unintentionally clear your doubts by being the voice of reason because he’s nice like that. 

You do hope though that tonight clears any weird air between you. Maybe you’ll find out later on that there’s nothing weird going on at all and you’re just overthinking stuff as usual. 

You’re about to ring the doorbell twice when the door finally opens, showing you Jungkook still wearing his polo shirt. He looks like he’s just gotten home from work, red tie undone around his neckline and a few buttons popped open. 

“Hi.” You smile. 

“Hey,” Jungkook looks at you, obviously wondering what brought you to his door.

“I wanted to give you this,” you hand him the plastic container which he takes with a confused look. “Those are cookies. I baked them. I didn’t give you anything when I baked two nights ago because they were bad.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods, looking down at the plastic. He smiles, then leans on his doorway. “So it’s good now?” 

You gesture a so-so with your hand. “Don’t set your expectations too high. It’s not exactly Poilâne. But it tastes like matcha cookies, I swear.” When Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a while, you decide to add, “You also won’t get food poisoning, if you’re worried about that.”

Jungkook gives you an amused look. “I wasn’t… worried about that.”

“It’s a simple disclaimer. Just in case, you know, you suddenly feel weird in the stomach…” Jungkook arches his brow while you trail off. You roll your eyes lightheartedly. “I’m kidding.” 

He lets out a chuckle and then stands upright. “Thank you for this.” 

“No worries,” you say. You shift your weight from one foot to another. “Uh, do you wanna grab dinner? Right now?” 

Jungkook looks at you apologetically.

“I really wish we could, but I have to finish something tonight. Work stuff.” 

“Oh,” You nod immediately. “Okay. Uhm, good luck with that.”

He smiles at you. Lifting the container up, he arches his brows, saying, “Thank you, again. It looks good.” 

“Yeah, I hope you like it,” You say. Realizing that there’s nothing more left to say, you turn on your heel ready to go. But before that, you look back at him one last time. “Bye.” 

Jungkook grins.

“I’ll text you what I think about them.” He says, pointing to the cookies. 

“Okay, Anton Ego.”  

You both laugh at that, and you enter your apartment with a small smile on your face.

You don’t want to admit it even to yourself, but you might have taken Jungkook’s words about reviewing your baked goods too seriously that you waited for it last night longer than necessary. Even when the night ended and you go to work the next day, which is today, none of his texts come, and you don’t think anything’s coming anytime soon. 

You try not to think about it too much because he did say he’s busy with work. You’re sure that’s the case, so you feel slightly bad for him. 

Right now, you’re looking for Ms. Seo to get her signature on a document. So you head to the elevator, rushing a bit to get inside the one that’s about to close. It’s a little urgent, so you cannot waste any more time.

As soon as you enter though, you notice who’s in it.

It’s Jungkook and the woman you saw in the elevator two days ago. 

You’re starting to think you need to start using the stairs from now on because your elevator trips are getting too ridiculous. 

It feels like you’re running on auto-pilot when you greet them both, walking to the side to make space for the other people entering. 

You wish you went beside the woman instead and not Jungkook’s side because you then have to try real hard not to look at him.

It proves to be an uneasy task when more people squeeze in as the elevator takes a few stops in between floors. You had to taut all the muscles in your body just to not get into any contact with Jungkook, but even with all the effort, it goes unsuccessful, as you brush his arm when you step back to move a little. 

Jungkook looks at you the same time you do.

“I’m sorry.” You utter, low enough to not cause any unnecessary attention.

A few do turn to stare, anyway. And you can’t help but notice the way the woman’s hand moves towards Jungkook’s to hold it as she takes a look at you. 

Jungkook, meanwhile, gives you that same professional smile he seems to have reserved for every employee that greets him around the building, warm voice saying, “It’s okay.” 

You’re thankful that the next floor is where your stop is.

As you go back to your cubicle, you wonder who the woman is. Again.

There's something about her that feels familiar. She looks familiar. Like you’ve seen her before. You can’t just figure out where exactly. 

“__,” Sol calls beside you. 

“Huh?”

“You’re not having lunch?” She asks.

“Oh…” Right. It’s currently your break time. “Are you guys going out?” You say, looking at Joonhwi who’s two cubicles away from you.

Sol shakes her head, taking her coat from the back of her chair. “No, just at the cafeteria.” 

You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll follow in a few minutes, just need to look over some stuff here,” You point to your computer. 

“Okay. Just text me.” 

You give Sol a smile and watch as she and Joonhwi head out of the office. 

Your gaze falls to the time on your computer.

12:10pm. 

Is Jungkook possibly having lunch right now? You remember him buying you one two days ago and feel a little sense of regret about not taking it even though it isn’t your fault and he should’ve told you first to give you a little heads-up.

You never really talked about it. You never really talked for the past three days.

But then again, he seems to be busy.

With a little hope in your heart, though, you pick up your phone and decide to send him a text. 

You [12:12pm]: hey do u want to go out for lunch? 

Or should you just buy him one like he did for you? It’s not like you’re trying to up him in a kindness competition. It can just be a small, thoughtful gesture from a friend to a friend. 

You receive a reply a few seconds after. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: hey __  I’d love to

Your lips curl down when you read the next one that comes in a second.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: but I have a work meeting in 5mins

Oh. Okay. That tracks. 

You [12:14pm]: okii!! That’s totally cool! good luck with work 😊

You stand up from your chair and take out your wallet from your bag, going out of your office and sending a quick text to Sol that you’re coming to the cafeteria. 

When you get there, your peripheral vision catches a familiar figure. 

You look back, trying to see if it’s someone you know.

Turns out it is. Because it’s Jungkook.

You’ve seen him in the elevator this morning and he wore a grey pair of suit. You’d also recognize his stature anywhere, but just like how it was inside the elevator, he’s with the woman again; long hair down like it was yesterday, this time adorning a suit dress that hugs her figure really well, her stilettos making her legs look longer but somehow Jungkook still stands a little taller.

For the very brief moment that you laid your eyes on them, you saw how Jungkook had his hand placed on the low of her back, how she laughed at something he said, and how they looked good together from your point of view. It seemed like they were on their way somewhere.

You realize that was what Jungkook meant when he said he’s busy.

They say a silver lining comes in every worst situation possible, and you’re more of an optimist rather than a pessimist so usually, you believe in the concept of silver linings even though right now – it looks like it’s going to be winning the jackpot in the lottery or… free education for everybody across the world.

“The contractor estimates it would be a week-long repair.”

“One week?” Is your immediate response, disbelief coloring your tone. “I’m sorry—” You try to fix your tone, salvaging yourself from being seen as outright rude in front of your building manager. “You mean seven whole days?”

The building manager, Mr. Han, nods his head. He looks genuinely apologetic as he delivers the news, for the record.

“That’s… really long.” You say, albeit calmer now. But you still can’t imagine it.

“It’s just an estimate. Contractor said it might be faster than that, but they still need to do a full assessment of your unit tomorrow, together with the water damage restoration company. We’re doing all we can to respond to the situation. We’re also talking to your upstairs neighbor about the stipulation of his negligence.”

You nod along to his words.

Obviously, it’s his job to ensure everything’s taken care of, but still, you’re appreciative of the way they are going about the current situation. You’ve heard horror stories about tenants getting into arguments with their building managers or landlords when their apartments experience accidents.

“Can I ask about relocation?” You ask. You have to read your lease again to make sure.

“Unfortunately, it’s not indicated in your lease policy, but your renter’s insurance should cover it. You can also talk to your landlord about reducing your rent for this month due to the inconvenience.”

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Okay. Thank you.”

The plumber and some of the help the building manager employed to dry up your place from the accidental flood had already left a while ago, and soon, Mr. Han’s figure disappears entirely after a few seconds as you watch him walk down the flight of stairs and away from the building.

You can hear the loud whirring of the air movers placed inside your unit from where you stood on your porch. Your hair’s damp, including some spots on your work clothes from the water that trickled down your ceiling as you panicked earlier to pack some of your belongings in a medium-sized luggage you managed to grab in the timeframe.

It’s the state that Jungkook catches you in when you see him emerging from the stairs, looking like he also just got back from work.

“Hey, what happened?” Jungkook, with his brows furrowed, looks at you with worried eyes, sounding equally concerned.

You sigh. “Hey,” you greet weakly. “My apartment got flooded.”

“What?”

“It’s the upstairs neighbor. He apparently left his tub running while he went to work this afternoon,” You take a sharp breath, getting pissed again at the negligence. So goddamn stupid, really. “He flooded his own place and the water leaked to my ceiling, and when I got back home from work I was welcomed with two inches of water on my floor.”

“What the hell?” Jungkook says in disbelief. You nod at his reaction. That is exactly what you said when you heard the story from the property manager. “Are you okay?” He asks, and you appreciate it.

“Not sure about that.” You answer honestly.

Jungkook furrows his brows. “You called your landlord immediately?”

Letting out a sigh again, you nod and move to sit on your suitcase – the lonesome bag that you’re planning to bring with you to wherever the hell you’re going to stay tonight. You don’t even think you have enough clothes in it.

“My place is a complete wreck. Most of the water’s drained, though, and the building manager brought some help inside and they put air movers inside to dry the place right now.” You blow air to the strand of hair that escapes from your ponytail out of frustration. “It’s a shitshow, I know.”

“Good that they responded fast,” Jungkook comments, but concern is still etched on his face as he asks you, “Have you called your insurance company yet?”

“Yeah, we’re emailing right now.” You tell him, showing your phone. You hate sending email through such a small device but you left your laptop back at the office – which is kind of a good thing, now that you think about it – because it would’ve gotten flooded had you left it in your place.

“Did you document everything?”

Your response comes in a little curt.

“Yes, Jungkook. I did.” The onslaught questions just somehow seemed to prompt irritation in you, and you can’t help but add, “I know everything I have to do. I’m an adult.”

Predictably, you render Jungkook surprised.

“I— I didn’t mean it like that. I apologize.”

When you look up at him, you see his expression softening – and you feel bad for what you just did.

Chill, __. He’s just asking logical questions.

“No, I’m sorry,” You shake your head, feeling a little ashamed for bursting like that. You shouldn’t have talked to him like that, anyway. “I don’t know why I snapped, you’re just asking the important questions.”

Jungkook hesitantly hovers his hand on your shoulder, and the look he gives you seems to be asking for permission to touch you. You don’t even know if that’s his intention, but you give him a nod.

He smiles, tapping your shoulder for a brief second, saying, “It’s okay. You must be really stressed right now.”

“You think I can’t be calm in this situation?” You look at him with a blank expression. Jungkook’s taken aback and you witness the very split second his smile drops form his face, probably thinking he said something wrong. Then you can’t help it, you break. “I’m just fucking with you.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow as he sees you bursting into a gentle laugh, breaking your serious demeanor.

He shakes his head slowly, seemingly incredulous of the stunt you just pulled.

“You and your jokes…”

“You should’ve seen your face.”

“You got me.” Jungkook chuckles.

“I’m sorry… it’s just me trying to ignore the fact that my apartment literally got flooded and those loud and big ass fans they placed inside are about to tear my ears off.”

You see the way Jungkook’s face winces.

“Where are you staying for the night, then?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, genuinely not sure about your options. “Probably gonna book a hotel or something.”

Of course you’ve thought about Jimin. He can probably easily help you find a place for the meantime but it’d probably be hard with him not being physically in the country just yet. Sol also crossed your mind, but you remember she has a roommate.

Getting a hotel to temporarily stay at is the most obvious option there is. It would be too much of a hassle, not to mention expensive, but—

“You can stay at mine for the night.”

You think you’re getting around to Jungkook offering you help without you even asking – but it doesn’t mean you still don’t get a little taken aback when he gives it so willingly and so quickly like this.

“No.” You shake your head.

“Seriously.” Jungkook stares at you.

You stare at him right back.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” He raised his brow.

“I can’t think of reasons right now.”

“You don’t need to think at all.”

You squint your eyes at him, he does the same.

Soon enough, Jungkook breaks first and laughs.

“Come on! You’re gonna freeze in here.”

Hesitantly, you say, “… Are you sure?”

“What are you worried about?” He cocks his head to the side, awaiting your response.

Well. There’s a lot to be worried about.

There’s the thing where you always just seem to be caught into some shit and then he catches you right exactly in it. It’s starting to get embarrassing.

But Jungkook just doesn’t really seem to mind it.

“Nothing, really.” Is what you weakly settled for.

“Okay…” He trails off, raising a brow, obviously a bit confused. “Then what’s the big deal? Do you really want to go through the hassle of picking out hotels and booking a room at this hour? You have to go to work tomorrow.”

You visibly wince at the mention of work.

He’s right and you kind of hate it.

“You’re right…” you say after a while.

“You’re staying at mine?” Jungkook asks again, in which you nod your head in confirmation.

You stand up from your suitcase and pull up the handle. Then you look at him sincerely to give him a smile. “Thank you. I think this is like the five hundredth time this kind of thing happened between you and I.”

“Not counting.” Jungkook shrugs. “Have you had dinner yet?”

You nod your head. “I went with a friend— a co-worker.”

Jungkook visibly stills.

“The guy from a few days ago at the restaurant around work?”

You perk up at that, surprised he still recalls that day.

“Yeah, that’s him. Taemu. From the IT dep.”

He nods. You don’t know if he’s interested or not.

You think it’s a bit random that he brought that up, though, but you shake the thoughts away and call his name.

Jungkook looks at you.

“Thank you.” You say, hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice.

He chuckles. “You’re welcome,” Jungkook then gestures to the luggage you’re holding. “Let me.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for you to say yes before he takes the handle from you and carries the luggage with him to the direction of his place just across from yours.

You consciously try to make your steps lighter as you walk out of the shower box, making your way towards your suitcase to check on the clothes you packed.

When you open it, you thank the heavens that there are underwear – and a lot of them, for the record – but as you rummage around some more, you find that other than your work clothes, you only have nightwear inside. And when you say nightwear, not the comfortable cotton pajama kind but the nightie one – and that basically means the baby blue silky set of tiny camisole and shorts that can pass as a pair of panties.

I can’t possibly wear these, you think to yourself, hastily burying the pieces of clothing in the bottom of your luggage.

It shouldn’t mean anything – those are nightwear after all! But it was already embarrassing to ask Jungkook earlier if you could use his shower and his towel. You can’t come out of the bathroom wearing clothes that Jimin once tagged as “slutty pjs”. Not when you’re in Jungkook’s place.

“__?”

You look over to the door when you hear Jungkook’s voice, a knock following.

“Yes?” You answer.

“Do you have clothes in there?”

At the question, your gaze automatically falls to the suitcase where the thin strap of the camisole peeks out in between some other clothes that are completely useless for the night.

With hesitance, you say, “Uhm… do you possibly have a shirt I can borrow? I promise to clean it and return it to you tomorrow, ASAP.”

You hear him chuckle from the other side. “I brought you some. There’s also a pair of sweatpants but I’m not sure if they’ll fit you.”

It’s hard to not celebrate silently when Jungkook says that – but you might have jumped a little at his words.

When you walk towards the door and open it, you give Jungkook a huge smile as you tell him, “Thanks!”

He stops. And then you stop.

You realize you’re only in your towel – his towel, to be exact.

You feel the blood rushing to your cheeks the moment it registers.

Before you can do or say anything, Jungkook moves on quickly and stretches his arm, thrusting the clothes he’s mentioned into your way.

“There.” He says simply, smiling at you.

You take them from his hand, giving him a smile too, albeit a bit awkward.

“T-thanks.”

Jungkook turns on his heel to leave, and you lock the door to the bathroom as soon as he walks away.

You settle his clothes on top of the flat surface of the lavatory, physically shaking your head as you look at yourself in the mirror to shake your thoughts away.

Thoughts of his slightly parted lips when you opened the door while you’re only in a towel.

But it happened in such a split second that you’re not sure if it even happened.

When you take his white shirt, it feels soft to the touch and there’s a scent of fresh laundry that wafts through your nose when you wear it on yourself.

It’s loose on you, the sleeves almost covering your whole arms and the hem stopping mid-thigh. But because of that, it feels comfortable – like the oversized shirts you wear to bed that you, unfortunately, weren’t able to pack with you in the heap of panic.

But the pants show a different case. It’s so big that it drags on the floor as you wear it.

You made do, though; drawing the strings tightly and and knotting them together, pulling up the gartered hems up to your calf.

When you come out of the bathroom, Jungkook welcomes you with nothing but a towel wrapped around his lower half.

“H-hey,” You stammer, eyes meeting his own to avoid looking at his naked torso.

“I was just going in. You done?” He casually says, as if he doesn’t mind being naked in front of you.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m done. Thanks for the clothes.” You say, gesturing across your body.

“Looks good.” Jungkook comments before entering the bathroom.

You think your cheeks just got impossibly hotter.

The sound of water running is heard before you scramble to the living room.

Why was he naked?!

Okay, he wasn’t actually naked naked but still, he had no clothes on. Why did he have no clothes on? You’re trying to erase the image of his torso, the lines that draw an obvious four-pack, his firm-looking chest, and the way the tattoos over his right arm apparently go way above his shoulder. It’s obvious that he goes to the gym and works out from the way those polo sleeves of his always hug his biceps a little too tight – and with a body like that, you completely understand why he wouldn’t mind parading it around.

The AC in his unit is turned on, but it suddenly feels way too hot from where you currently sit on his couch.

Shut up. Ugh. You tell yourself internally.

Completely wanting out of that headspace, you decide to take out your iPad to get in contact with your insurance company to discuss your current situation, and it does a good job of keeping your mind off Jungkook for a while.

You’re so deep in the activity that you don’t even notice a few minutes has already gone by, and with that, you don’t notice Jungkook coming out of the shower.

When you see him in your periphery, he’s now thankfully dressed in a shirt and some basketball shorts. He’s drying his hair as he walks over to your direction in the living room.

You look at him in surprise when you notice the pillow and comforter he has in his hands.

“Sorry. You should’ve called me, I could’ve helped,” you say, standing up from the couch, ready to help him with it, assuming that you’ll be on the couch tonight.

Jungkook looks at you with furrowed brows. “I’m taking the couch.”

You stare at him, ready to hear him say he’s kidding or something but he doesn’t look like he’s joking.

You shake your head vigorously.

“No, that’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous about it?” Jungkook says, putting the pillows on the couch, starting to make it all the while looking at you through the process to engage.

“It’s your place.” You reason.

“And you’re my guest.” He says as a matter of fact.

“But—”

Jungkook cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence.

“__, it’s fine, really. You can take my bed. I insist.”

“Jungkook…” you trail off, sounding more like a whine.

He laughs and then looks at you with a playful smile. “Okay, should we compromise? Like, what, share the bed or the couch?”

You ignore the way your cheeks heat up at the suggestion.

You honestly don’t know why Jungkook says these kinds of things. You know it’s just his usual teasing, but he’s about to confuse you one of these days…

“God, no.” You respond with a shake of your head.

He chuckles. “Oh, is sleeping with me that repulsive to you?”

You push a little at his shoulder and roll your eyes.

When Jungkook’s done fixing the couch, he gestures to the door by the far end of the room. “Come on, I'll take you to the bedroom.”

You both walk towards that direction and as much as you’ve been over his place for more than once now, you’ve actually never seen his room – and for the record, why would you?

But it looks nice. Just like the rest of his apartment’s interior, his room is also almost the same. Kind of bare, but there are some sleek furniture that add character to the whole place.

“Too cold?” Jungkook asks, and you look at him to see him holding the remote of his AC.

“The temp’s fine.”

He hums and puts down the remote.

“Alright, then. Just call me if you need something.” Jungkook says, gesturing to the door. He’s about to leave when you call him again.

“Good night, Jungkook. Thank you for your bed.”

“Good night, __. Uh… sweet dreams?”

You roll your eyes. Jungkook laughs.

When he leaves, you sit on his mattress covered by black duvets and sheets. It’s soft, and you let yourself bounce on the fluffy surface, delighting at the feel.

It’s about the same size as yours, and when you lay on it, you smell that usual scent that Jungkook always emanates. Clean, crisp, a little sweet. Like fresh apples. Or fresh laundry. He just always smells so… clean.

You feel a little sense of strangeness at the different environment you’re in, but the bed is too soft that you feel like you’re almost floating – and maybe it’s because you are tired from work and drained from the whole fiasco at your apartment, but you fall asleep fast and heavy within just a few minutes.

You almost jump from the bed when you open your eyes and see a different type of bedding, only to realize that you’re actually not in your apartment and in Jungkook’s instead.

After processing that, you begin to do a little stretching, finding that you slept quite well. As you do so, your eyes catch the digital clock on the bedside table, and you read 4:30 am.

It’s a bit too early to start getting ready for work, but maybe if you start prepping now, you’ll be ready to go out just as when Jungkook is waking up.

When you stand from the bed, you discover the absence of pants around your waist, the cold air sending goosebumps over your bare legs – and as expected, you see the sweats getting caught in between the heaps of dark sheets on the bed.

You must have taken it off in the middle of the night. It’s why you usually forgo pants when you sleep.

You decide against wearing it again, though, assuming that Jungkook is still sound asleep by now so he can’t possibly see you walking around his place naked from the waist down. Besides, the shirt’s big and almost serves as a dress.

Carrying the pants with you, you silently open the door to his bedroom to tiptoe on your way to the bathroom.

“Hey,”

“Jesus christ!” You clutch your heart at the sudden sound of Jungkook’s voice booming across the unit.

When you look at him, he’s… working out. Apparently.

Jungkook takes out the airpods from his ears and drink from his tumbler.

“What are you tiptoeing for?” He asks, brows furrowed.

From where you stand, you see droplets of sweat on the side of his forehead, his chest heaving from the push-ups you catch him doing a few seconds ago on the mat that he laid on the floor. There are small weights on the side, and Jungkook is still wearing his clothes from last night.

Did he possibly just… wake up and then choose to exercise? Is this his everyday routine?

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you make up an excuse that’s kind of partly true. He slept on the couch in the living room, after all. And from the sala, everything is pretty much visible to the eye as the unit has an open layout. So one single noise could’ve awakened him.

“Too late for that,” Jungkook chuckles. He looks at you longer than a second and you’re just about to get conscious when he asks, “You get ready for work at four?”

You purse your lips into a thin line. “Sort of. I also have to check my place.” Jungkook nods, understanding. “Uh, Jungkook?” He hums to acknowledge you. “Can I use your shower? Again?”

He laughs at the way you smile at him awkwardly. “Sure. Your towel’s just over the rack.”

“Thanks.” You smile at him and go straight to the bathroom.

You make quick work of washing yourself, and the shower, just like last night, isn’t your usual routine because of course, most of your stuff are still over at your place. Though Jungkook is kind enough to lend you some of his unused products – even giving you a spare toothbrush which now sits beside his own on the bathroom sink.

When you finish showering, you wear his shirt and his pants once again. As you go out of the bathroom, the sound of oil popping from the kitchen doesn’t escape your ears.

“I made breakfast.” Jungkook says as you make your way towards the kitchen island. He’s a few steps away, working around the stove, frying up some sausage. He takes some eggs and then turns to you. “How do you like your eggs?”

You’re sure he doesn’t mean anything by that, but then you both laugh at the realization anyway.

“Sunny side up.” You say after a while, seating yourself on one of the high stools. “Can I help you?”

“It’s okay, just sit there.”

You put your elbow on the island as you watch him work. “Wow, do you really treat all your guests like this?” You tease, deciding to poke a joke.

Jungkook laughs as he starts breaking eggs into the frying pan.

“You’re the first one.” He raises a brow your way, lips tilted into a playful smile.

“Awe.” You pretend to curtsy which makes Jungkook laugh.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook serves you a plate of sausage and perfectly-made sunny side up. You say a delighted “thank you!” in which Jungkook returns an adorable smile for.

You thought he was going to eat with you, but he only ate the sausage and began to work on cutting up some bananas while you continued to eat.

“What did they say about your apartment? How long is the repair?” Jungkook asks while he takes out a mixer.

“Week-long,” He visibly winces at your answer. You purse your lips. “I’m trying to look for a place to stay for the remaining days.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Lease doesn’t cover relocation?”

“Talked to the building manager and the landlord last night and they said it doesn’t. I also read the policy again myself last night, though, just to be sure. Anyway, landlord’s cutting my rent this month for up to thirty, so that’s something.”

“Okay… how about your stuff?”

As you watch Jungkook during the whole conversation, you realize that he’s apparently making a protein shake, and when he finishes shaking the bottle, he gestures it towards you, silently asking if you want to try it.

You shake your head, also answering his question. “I already filed a claim on it with my insurance company, so they’re handling it for me. They’re probably going to seek reimbursement from my upstairs neighbor’s insurance if he has one,” You shrug. “And I’m also gonna have to ask him to pay for the deductible.”

Jungkook nods, consuming his drink. You watch as he leans back on the kitchen sink, putting his protein shake down and crossing his arms, looking right at you.

“Why don’t you stay here for a while?”

You look right back at him weird.

“You’re not serious.”

“When am I not serious?”

You hold a staring competition after that, but Jungkook’s eyes are way too intense so you break away first.

“I just can’t.” You say, interrupting the silence.

“It’s friend to a friend. I bet you’d do this for me too.” Jungkook shrugs.

He doesn’t understand, though. Staying at his place for the remaining six days would mean that you’d be both living under the same roof together, and while it’s true that you would probably do this for him if he was in your shoes, it’s just not the same.

But you don’t want to get into all that. It’s too complicated to explain, even to yourself.

So you decide to joke a little.

“Probably not.” You tease.

Jungkook chuckles. “Mean.” He comments, shaking his head at you and playfully clicking his tongue.

“I’m joking,” you smile apologetically. “It’s just for six more days, though. The manager told me it might take faster.”

“Where do plan to stay, anyway? A hotel would be really inconvenient. The nearest one around here is too far from work, not to mention it’d be expensive as well.”

“There’s loss of use coverage,” You say, even though you know the stipulation, and your apartment flooding because of your neighbor’s negligence might probably not be in the clauses.

It’s just to reason with Jungkook, but he’s quick to present another point.

“It’s gonna take a long while, no?”

You pout. Sighing, you say, “You’re right.”

“Okay, so why not stay here?” Jungkook asks curiously. “You know I don’t mind. I won’t mind.” He says and it sounds so convincing and genuine.

You decide to deflect a little because you feel like giving in any seconds now.

“You say that but wait until you find that I’m not very likeable as a roommate.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “Shoot. Hit me.”

Pursing your lips into a thin line, you try to think of your bad habits.

“I…” you trail off, but it stretches into seconds way longer than necessary.

Jungkook chuckles. “See, you can’t even list one.”

“I don’t cook.” You point out.

“I already know that.”

You frown. “So we can’t take turns cooking while I stay here.”

Jungkook only shrugs. “There’s take-out.”

“You’re gonna eat take-out for a week?”

“I can cook.” He chuckles.

“Okay… but sometimes, I get super cranky.”

He nods. “I’ll be out of your way, then. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

You sigh, out of reasons now.

“I’ll try to be helpful with you in the kitchen for the next six days. And I’ll also be nice.”

Jungkook’s brows perk up. “You’re saying you want to stay here?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “But… I wan to pay you.”

“__, the whole reason why I’m offering is because a hotel is gonna cost you,” Jungkook laughs.

That prompts you to put a frown on your face.

“Fair point. But I’m going to take your couch the entire time, okay? And that’s final.”

It takes a little longer for Jungkook to agree to that. But he nods his head, anyway, saying, “Sure.”

It sounds so non-committal. You think he's going to still try insisting taking the couch.

“Okay.” You say, ignoring that thought, smiling at him. “Thank you.”

“You know you’re always welcome, right?” Jungkook says.

You’re thankful he turns around after he says that to tend to the stuff he used a while ago in the sink, giving you a perfect leeway to avoid his gaze lest he takes notice of the way you can’t help a big smile.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Finish your breakfast.” He says, pointing to your unfinished plate. 

You give him a small salute.

Before he goes to the direction of the bathroom, Jungkook turns around to ask. "Do you want to go to work together?" He raises a brow, but then a second after his question, he puts a hand up, effectively stopping you from answering. "You're gonna say no. But I insist. Say yes, I made you breakfast." 

You laugh at his squinted eyes. 

"I was going to say yes, anyway."

"No, you weren't." Jungkook fires back. 

You shoo him away playfully before he finally leave for the shower.

All you can think about is that maybe silver linings are indeed true.

Sharing a space with somebody has always felt… weird.

You had a roommate back in college for the whole four years, and while it wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to you – it was just an experience that didn’t really strike you as something memorable or fun. Min Heeji was a Bio major who was an extreme introvert, and past the casual hi’s and hello’s, you both just never hit it off.

After moving out of your dorm, you rented around Itaewon. You found the unit through a listing you saw on Facebook – some woman who was finding a roommate to split the rent with. You found out later that the reason why the previous people before you left was because she was quite an interesting lady… let’s just say – she was a person who dabbled on the arts of illegal drug trading. Jimin jokingly told you he wondered about how her weed tasted like. Sometimes, you want to smack him on the head.

You pretty much decided on being against roommates for the entirety of your life after that.

But Jeon Jungkook is thankfully not a total hermit, nor does he sell weed.

It’s been long since you lived with somebody, and being under the same roof as him is different – the good kind of different, to be clear.

He’s somewhat a clean freak so it’s almost embarrassing to do anything in his place because it’s always so spot clean.

One thing that you learned though is that he’s a busy man. You had an idea about a packed schedule and non-existent free time for an executive person like him – but the idea feels more real now that you’ve witnessed it.

On the first day of your stay, after your apartment got flooded, he drove you both to work just like he offered. During the night, though, he seemed to have come home late. You slept at around 10pm and never saw him entering the door, and when you woke up the next day, he’s gone, only a note on the fridge telling you that he’s prepared some breakfast you can heat up to eat.

Nonetheless, you feel into quite an easy routine with him.

After a great deal of insistence from your side, Jungkook is rightfully assigned in his bedroom while you lay on the couch. It’s a bit bigger than the one you have on your own, so there’s space for moving around. Even when you wake up with shitty back pains in the mornings, sleeping on his couch is better than sleeping in your current wreck of an apartment as the contractor is already repairing your place.

As of the third day since the incident, they’ve already changed your ceiling, the flooring coming next. It was starting to look good as per your visit.

That made it clearer to you, though, that you’re indeed staying at Jungkook’s for another four days.

Jungkook was so busy that he even worked on a Saturday – told you that it was a hectic week for his team over a shared dinner that you thought will happen only once during your stay with his packed schedule. On Sunday, you kind of assumed that Jungkook will still be at the office, but he surprised you when he came barging in the bathroom while you were in it.

You had your leg propped on the edge of the bathtub, squeezing the bottle of lotion in your palm and spreading the cream over the skin of your shin, adjusting the towel up your thighs so you can cover your entire leg with the product.

You did so mindlessly, part of your usual after-shower routine, completely unassuming of the sound of the doorknob clicking and Jungkook suddenly barging inside the room with a hamper in his hand.

Frozen in your position, your eyes locked into his own as he stepped a foot forward on the tiled floor. You realized the hamper is his laundry.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” Jungkook apologized, and he looked genuinely bashful.

“I thought you were at work.” you said, adjusting the towel on the top of your head.

Jungkook raised a brow, but there’s a smile on his lips. “On a Sunday?”

You narrowed your eyes at him which prompted him to laugh. A beat of silence, and then you noticed Jungkook’s gaze. You felt his eyes to the direction of your raised leg on the porcelain tub – and if your own sight didn’t deceive you, you could’ve sworn he’d made a quick glance-over to the expanse of your bare leg before he snapped right back into looking at your face.

“Anyway, I was just gonna do my laundry,” Jungkook twisted himself away from the bathroom’s door. “I’ll wait for you to finish, though. I’m sorry again for barging in.”

At that, you quickly shook your head and planted both your feet on the tiles, standing upright.

“No, it’s fine. I’m done, anyway. Are you in a hurry? I just need to change into some… clothes.” You said, glancing at the heap of some pajama pants and a t-shirt on the bathroom sink.

“Not in a hurry. You can change here.” Jungkook gave you a small smile.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’ll be super quick.”

Your lips curled into an apologetic smile, but Jungkook waved you off.

He took one last look at you before he locked the door – one thing that you forgot to do in the very first place.

You blamed it on your habit of not really being mindful about it since you were used to living alone.

The day after that – one fateful Monday – Jungkook once again was MIA at his own place. You woke around 6 am, and as you got ready for work, you noticed a note on his fridge that he went to work earlier than usual that day, and he’d also be working late so you should lock up at night.

At the company, you did not even catch a single glimpse of him.

You bought some food on your way to his place later that day, thinking that maybe you could share a meal together – nevermind the fact that he had told you he was going to be home late. But you did not expect his “late” would exceed past 11 pm, and since you were also pretty much tired from your own activities for that day, you fell asleep on the couch without making it, lying on the surface with no pillows and comforter over your body.

In your dreams that night, you felt like you were floating.

Somebody has tucked their arms under your knees and neck, taking you off the previous surface you were lying on. The unfamiliar man cradles your body against his, carrying you somewhere and putting you on a much softer place. A mattress. A big, soft, mattress. And you noted that the man smelled of green apples and laundry. An almost familiar scent.

Needless to say, your dream was quite vivid that night.

When you woke up the next morning, you were welcomed with the familiar grey paint of the walls – the white ceiling, and the dark sheets and pillows that surrounded you. A waft of fresh laundry smell. The Iron Man figurine on the top shelf of the cabinet in the corner of the room. The black slippers on the side of the door that are way too big to be yours.

Jungkook.

The strange man in your dreams was Jungkook. And it wasn’t a dream at all.

It was Jeon Jungkook who carried you all the way to his bedroom from the sofa so you could sleep comfortably on it.

When you went out of his room that morning, ready to thank him and tell him he didn’t have to do what he did, feeling bad at the thought of him sleeping on his couch at his own place, Jungkook was nowhere to be found.

But as if it was becoming tradition, there was a note on his fridge that told you: I hope you don’t mind that I brought you to my room. I found you uncomfortable on the couch last night. Didn’t cook us breakfast because I have to go to work early again today, but I’ll have food delivered at around 7. Good morning, __ :)

     — Jungkook.

That night, though, Jungkook miraculously came home early.

He arrived an hour after you, just in time as you finished doing the prep for the bibimbap you were planning to eat on your own, assuming Jungkook was going to be late again. When you saw him entering the door, you decided to make the portions of the ingredients bigger, thinking that it was the perfect opportunity to say thank you for the other night.

And you did not forget to say that either.

“Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to…” you trailed off, giving him a sheepish smile across the dining table as you both ate.

Jungkook, with his mouth full of rice – seemingly (thankfully) enjoying the meal you prepared for him – munched on it before he said, “You looked real tired. And uncomfortable, which reminds me, you should sleep in the bedroom as well tonight.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, Jungkook. Last night was just – uh, I was waiting for you to come home because I didn’t want to just lounge around your living room while you aren’t around, but then I guessed you arrived a little late.”

Out of all the things you’d said, it seemed Jungkook only remembered one thing.

“You were waiting for me to come home?” He said, his hand reaching for the side dish pausing mid-air, eyes trained to you. Curious, his brow piqued in what seemed like genuine intrigue.

You stopped. You went over your words, not realizing those came out of your mouth.

Obviously, you didn’t mean for that to slip out.

So, you shook your head slowly. Hesitantly, you reasoned, “It’s just you’re always in your room first before I fix the couch for bedtime. So.” You shrugged, knowing your explanation didn’t suffice.

Jungkook gave you a nod with small a smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry for making you wait, then. It’s just extra busy at the company these days.”

Your brows furrowed in curiosity, “Yeah, I heard about the collaboration with Kang Tech.”

You found out about it at work that day. It’s in the accounts payable you’ve worked on the past few days, and when you asked Joonhwi and Sol about it, they confirmed the recent moves the company is recently making.

You also realized then that the reason why the mystery woman in the elevator was familiar to you was because you’ve seen pictures of her before.

Of course you’d know her. She’s the woman Jimin’s parents are trying to set him up with. The one and only Kang Heesu. She took over as CEO just very recently at Kang Tech.

Apparently, Blue Nexus and Kang Tech are collaborating on a product that will be announced later during the month – which explains her being at the company oftentimes, Jungkook being busy, drowned with work stuff – them working closely together.

Whatever you felt on that day you saw them together – you’d like to dismiss that as just a blip in the system. Your system, to be exact.

It isn’t any of your business whoever gets around with Jungkook. Whether he’s close with Kang Heesu outside work or not (like what you’ve pondered about ever since finding out about the information of their collaboration) – that’s their thing.

“Yeah, the team’s been working overtime because of it.” Jungkook added to your words from earlier.

“So, you’re more tired than I am,” You pointed out, noting the obvious. He went to work at the ass-crack of dawn, went home late, and whenever he was home – all he faced was his laptop.

You even doubt he was getting enough sleep. There were bags under his eyes that weren’t there the past month you first met him – and even though he carried them with a certain grace, you could still see that some of the shine in his eyes was becoming absent.

You were glad you were able to prepare something for him. Did something for him. You didn’t have to – but you did. Because you wanted to be a helpful roommate.

“Does it show?” Jungkook chuckled, leaning back on the chair, a bashful expression on his face.

You shook your head. “Nope. But yeah, you don’t need to give up your bedroom tonight. I’ll be fine here.”

“I actually bought something. Wait a minute,” Jungkook suddenly said. Your brows furrowed when you watched him saunter over the living room and in towards his bedroom. When he came back to the dining area, he was carrying a huge paper bag. You looked at him, visibly confused. Jungkook cleared his throat as he sat back down on his seat. “I was thinking you could use this. It’s a foldable cushion or whatever so you can sleep more comfortably on the couch.”

You gawked at the paper bag, and then at him.

“What?”

“I went to the mall yesterday and the lady told me this is one of their best sellers… I don’t know. Do you want to have a look at it?” Jungkook said, worry seeping in his tone.

“That’s a… cushion? For the couch?”

He nodded.

“Oh.” Was the only thing you could utter. You didn’t really know what to say. “I… this is really thoughtful. You didn’t have to, you know that, right?”

Jungkook shook his head and gave you a small smile.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You told him sincerely.

“It’s nothing.” He waved you off. “I got that dry-cleaned already, by the way, so you can use it tonight if you really insist on sleeping on the couch.” Jungkook said with a teasing smile.

“That,” you point to the paper bag, “will single-handedly get me to want to live here for another three months.”

Jungkook raised his brow. “Really?”

You chuckled, leaving the conversation up on the air.

When you both finished your meal, you offered to do the dishes yourself, but Jungkook was insistent to do it, saying you’ve already done a lot for the day. You begged to differ, but you relented, anyway.

After you showered and made the couch, geeking internally at how soft the cushion he bought was, you couldn’t sleep right away, your mind finding it hard to focus on the lull of the crickets. So, at around 11 pm, you opened your laptop to pull up an X-Files episode, thinking it could condition you into being sleepy.

You promised yourself you were just going to finish one more episode, but the next episode button was too tempting and you found yourself binging the show into the wee hours of the night.

“__?” A voice coming from the far end of the room called, followed by the clicking sound of the lights turning on. With that, you found Jungkook standing on his door with his eyes half-lidded, hands rubbing his chest, seemingly having just woken up from his sleep.

“Jungkook,” you acknowledged him, straying your attention from your show. Jungkook started to trot towards the direction of the kitchen, and your eyes followed him as he stopped in front of his fridge, taking some water out and pouring it into a glass.

After he drank it, he looked at you to ask, “Can’t sleep?” You nodded your head. He made his way towards the couch, pointing at it. “Would you mind?”

“No, do you want to?” You adjusted the duvet you put all over your back to make room for him, and Jungkook placed himself beside you, peering over the screen on your laptop.

“What are you watching?” He asked, voice a little groggy.

“The X-Files. You know the show?”

“Heard about it a few times. Never gotten around to watch it, though,” Jungkook said, leaning on the back of the couch, eyes still glued to your laptop.

You smiled. “Maybe you can start it now.”

“What’s it about?”

“Uh… aliens,” you started off, feeling a little silly about it. Gauging his reaction, you waited for him to give you a judgmental look but he seemed to be intrigued when he looked at you, asking for more details. You perked up that, feeling suddenly excited. “Okay, so, the guy here – his name’s Mulder. He’s an FBI agent who’s tasked on cases that have, you know, unexplainable nature. Basically, he believes in aliens, all that ET stuff,” you explained. Right on time, Gillian Anderson appears on frame. Pointing at her, you looked at Jungkook as you introduced her to him, “And the woman – she’s so pretty – that’s Scully. She’s a skeptic. She’s an FBI agent who’s also a scientist and was assigned to be with him to debunk his work.”

“So, they investigate cases together?” Jungkook added.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, and it’s different for each episode. There’s the alien storyline which is like, the main plot of the show, but there’s the fun filler episodes. Monster of the week, they call it. I’m rewatching one of those right now ‘cause they’re fun and don’t have a backstory.”

“It sounds good,” Jungkook looked impressed, training his eyes back on the show.

You weren’t sure if he was just trying to make a conversation, but he seemed genuinely interested as you both watched the show, which tickled your excitement more. You’ve tried to get Jimin into it but he wasn’t really an avid fan of watching long shows, so you’ve given up on trying to convince him to be as obsessive of the show as you.

“Do they kiss?” Jungkook suddenly asked mid-episode, brows furrowed as he watched Mulder wiped something off the side of Scully’s lips. It’s the episode when Scully just got back from being abducted.

Amused, you looked at him and let out a chuckle. Jungkook turned to look at you, confused at the reaction.

“Hm?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s just funny. So, there’s a thing in this show, right? Scully and Mulder are not supposed to be a couple, but they act like one.”

Jungkook let out a seemingly enlightened, “Ah.” Then he looked at your screen again, “I’m watching it right now out of context and I’m assuming they’re a couple.”

“Right? They have such insane chemistry. It’s why I love this show so much.”

“Wait. They never get together? Or kiss, romantically?” Jungkook asked curiously.

“They kiss on the seventh season. We’re on the second one.”

“Wow,” He breathed, genuinely surprised. “That’s a long wait.”

“I know,” you chuckled.

You both sat beside each other as the episode finished. Jungkook would have some questions, and you happily answered each one. It was also fun to share some lore about the show – and you didn’t know if you were coming off too geeky about it – you were just unbelievably excited that he seemed to genuinely like it.

Time passed without you both noticing, and it was 2:23 am when you became hesitant on clicking the next episode button.

“Do you still want to watch another one or…” You trailed off, eyes glued to the screen, waiting to hear Jungkook’s response. But then a few seconds passed, and you didn’t receive one. Turning your head to the side, your eyes widened when you see the state Jungkook was in.

He was leaning far back on the couch with his head resting on the backrest, arms crossed over his chest, lips slightly parted with his eyes shut closed. You could see his chest rising and falling from the way he breathed in and out of sleep, looking quite peaceful regardless of his seemingly uncomfortable position.

You shut your mouth and closed your laptop quietly, trying to be careful with your movements so as to not disturb him and accidentally wake him up. Stretching your back to lean down, your breath hitched as you tried to set the laptop down on the coffee table, not daring to graze any part of Jungkook’s body, especially when his thigh was so closed to your own.

When you successfully put away the device, you went back to sitting beside him, contemplating on your next move.

You ended up staring at him, noting the way his biceps are bulging out of the sleeves of his white shirt with a thin material from their crossed position. Your eyes trailed down to the veins on his forearms, and naturally, you focused in on the one with the swirls of ink around it. It was a body of art on the first look – but looking at it at that moment – close up and free, you took time to identify the drawings on his skin.

There was that snake that trailed down close to his hand, the skeletal rock n’ roll hand, and the script that says “rather be dead than cool”. It was a shame that you couldn’t see from your current view the flower tattoo you were always curious about, nevertheless, the entirety of his inked arm was just… breathtaking, to say the least.

You wanted to ask him what they meant – or if they even meant something. You knew by now he only got them in college – when he moved to the US – and you were just curious about how he decided to get them; about the backstory, anything… Would love to trace down your fingers on his skin as he tells you the exact moment.

And then you realized what you were doing and suddenly looked away.

You felt like a creep. What were you doing, staring at him while he was unaware, unconscious in his sleep? It was not right, and you were supposed to scoot over to the edge to give him plenty of space all for himself.

But as you looked at him again, your eyes stopped at his face, and you couldn’t help but stare at it.

Again.

His nose was something you weirdly have a liking to, and there’s a scar on his cheek that once again bubbled up another layer of curiosity within you.

“Stop it.” You mumbled out loud – not loud enough for Jungkook to hear – but just enough to snap yourself out of the trance you were in.

It was stupid. So stupid. To stare at a sleeping man and have those thoughts inside your head. Jungkook would never do anything like this to you, and at that sentiment, you stood up from the couch to get away.

You caught a sight of the duvet that you used a while ago. As you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to be in dire need of one, so you made quiet steps to put it over him, stopping your breathing in case you did it too loud and he wakes up.

As you carefully laid out the blanket on top of his body, Jungkook stirred, and your breath hitched as you stopped on your tracks.

He mumbled something incoherent, his neck craning to lay on his cheek. Regardless, he stayed on his position, arms still crossed, seemingly going back to his deep sleep instantly.

You stepped out in front of him, letting out a breath of relief.

Standing there for a few seconds, you wondered about where you were going to stay. Jungkook was on the couch and unlike him – you could not carry him to his room without him noticing.

Looking at the direction of said room, you thought about staying there for the night, but decide against it. You didn’t get his permission to do so, it’d be rude—

But the couch is only one, though. And you could feel a yawn ready to come out of your own mouth, sleep lurking at the back of your head.

You could try to wake Jungkook up to tell him to go to his room so he could sleep more comfortably, but you couldn’t do it. The past few days, he had been so busy with work and seemed like he wasn’t getting enough rest. What if you woke him up and he couldn’t go back to sleep anymore? That would just make you feel bad.

Getting the pillow strewn over the edge, you walked towards the direction and fixed it against the arm rest, sitting on the spot and making yourself comfortable on it. Of course, it wasn’t – you were craning your neck too far to the side to try to lay your head, and your body was sprawled in a weird sitting and lying position.

It was fine, though. Jungkook was about two feet away from you, and you felt like you could sleep in the state.

But it was a few long minutes before it completely overtook you.

There’s a feeling of a hard plane against your back when you feel yourself waking up.

You’re in a curled position, hands tucked under your cheeks. As much as you’re starting to slowly feel conscious, you’re still not a hundred percent aware of your surroundings just yet. It’s why you ignore the blow of hot air against the crook of your neck.

When you blearily open your eyes, you’re welcomed with the sight of the back of the grey couch you’ve accustomed yourself with over the past few days. The white foldable cushion you’re lying on. The familiar scent of Jungkook’s apartment.

It’s another usual morning, as far as you’re concerned.

So, you stretch an arm up as well as your leg, groggily mumbling something as you go back to closing your eyes again to hopefully sneak in a few more minutes of sleep.

“Hmm…”

At the sudden sound, your eyes snap open, surprised at the embodied voice that came out somewhere that’s definitely not from your own mouth. It was close, though – something close to your neck; you felt it so – and at that realization, your eyes trail down to your waist, and your breath catches in your throat when you see an arm wrapped around it.

Under your head is another arm that adorns a familiar sleeve tattoo.

When you crane your neck to look behind you, you’re welcomed by Jungkook’s locks of black and messy hair, his face apparently buried in the crook of your neck.

He must’ve felt you move because he stirs in his position, mumbling something, arm tightening around you.

You feel your heart starting to beat faster than usual as you feel the tips of Jungkook’s fingers resting on the bare skin of your stomach due to your camisole riding up, and your eyes continue to widen when you saw that the shirt he’s worn last night is now lying haphazardly across the coffee table where your laptop is.

When Jungkook pushes himself against you closer, that’s when you feel something hard against the cleft of your ass.

“Oh my god!”

“What the fuck!”

“I’m so sorry!” You immediately say, retreating your hands that just pushed him off the couch once everything registered in your head.

You just… slept with each other! You woke up with Jungkook spooning you! The hard plane against your back that you felt earlier was his chest and the hot air blowing in your ear was his breath! You both fell asleep together on the couch!

Jungkook – the poor man – visibly winces as he cradles the back of his head, adjusting himself on the floor after you forcefully yeeted him off the couch.

He didn’t expect that, of course he didn’t! He still looks like he’s half asleep when you kneel on the floor in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and craning your neck to check if you’ve done damage to his head.

“What the hell was that for?” Jungkook asks, still lost about what just happened.

You grimace as you hesitantly put your palm over the back of his head and rub to soothe the pain you’ve caused him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. I was just surprised and shocked when I–”

You stopped speaking when you notice that Jungkook is looking up at you, eyes half-lidded from sleep. Stopping your ministration on the back of his head, you retreat your hands to yourself and look away.

“We slept together.”

“What?” Jungkook asks, his tone incredulous, but more like confused. When you train your eyes to him again, you see him looking down on his body and then yours.

Your cheeks heat up when you realize what you just said.

“Oh my god, no! Not slept slept with each other! I mean, we slept together. Like, literally.” You say, looking at him in panic.

Jungkook furrows his brows. And then after a beat of silence, he lets out a low, “Oh.”

“Oh?” You parrot back.

“Yeah, oh,” He says drily. Jungkook rubs his eyes with his fists and then looks at you again. “I’m sorry, I feel disoriented. I just woke up.”

You wince at that, feeling bad for pushing him again.

It was just a reflex thing, okay! Especially when you felt that certain something in your ass.

When Jungkook stands up from the floor, you notice the strings of his grey shorts getting undone, and your eyes betray you as they pay a look at the noticeable bulge on his crotch.

Jesus H. Fucking Christ.

You stand up quickly, following after him, feeling your heart hammer in your chest.

Okay, boo-fucking-hoo! Men get boners in the mornings. What’s the big deal about it?

“What time is it?” Jungkook asks, brushing his hair back, and you have to physically look away and try to busy yourself by looking for your phone so you can ignore his naked chest on display and his abs and stupid big arms.

You spot your phone nearby and turn it on.

“Six thirty.”

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses.

You’ve never heard him let out so many curses before.

“What? It’s still early.” you say, in case he was referring to work.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Yeah, no. I was supposed to get ready at five am sharp. Need to go there early.”

“Oh.”

He groans, and the sound makes your stomach feel a little weird.

“I have to go shower,” Jungkook says, picking up his shirt from the coffee table. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Huh?” You realize what he’s talking about and is then quick to shake your head. “No, not your fault. I, uh, you fell asleep on the couch last night and I didn’t want to wake you.”

He nods, more like to himself. “How did we…?” Jungkook points between you, eyeing the couch.

“I didn’t want to use your bed without your permission, so I slept on the couch as well,” But then you decide to add, “But I didn’t sleep beside you, I was like –” you point to the edge of the couch, “there.”

“Ah,” Jungkook follows your eyes, and then nods. “Okay.”

“Yeah.” you purse your lips into a thin line. “Sorry about that. I should’ve just woken you up, huh?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “Well, is it okay if I use the shower first?”

“Of course.”

Jungkook smiles before he saunters towards the bathroom. You try not to stare at the hard lines of his retreating back, taping down to his narrow waist.

You failed to do that, obviously.

Sighing out loud when you’re sure he can’t hear you, you busy yourself in the kitchen to make some toast.

After work, you paid a quick visit to your apartment to see how it’s going, since you’re supposed to be able to come back tomorrow.

Your building manager told you that you can pretty much move back already, but there’s no water yet, so you will still have to stay at Jungkook’s place for the last time. At least for another night.

Speaking of him, when you step out on your porch, you see him in front of his own unit, back turned to you, opening his door.

“Hey,” you call. Jungkook turns on his heel, and he smiles as he sees you.

“Hey,” He greets, his hand pausing on the door. Jungkook gives you his undivided attention as he looks at you. “Your apartment’s fine now?”

You nod happily, grinning widely. “Yeah. But I have no water yet. They’re turning it on tomorrow.” You saunter towards his direction and stop beside him. Pointing to the paper bags in his hands, you ask, “What’s that?”

Jungkook lifts them up. “Soju and Midday Miso take-out.” Then, hesitantly, he looks at you curiously. “Do you drink?”

That prompts you to laugh.

“Of course. Are you drinking tonight?”

He nods his head. “Yeah. I was gonna ask you to drink with me… but if you’re not up for it, I’ll just be in my room.”

You cock your head to the side.

“What’s the occasion?”

Jungkook chuckles. “Nothing. Just thought I could loosen up.”

You nod in understanding.

You think about asking him how work’s been, but decide against it, not wanting to pry in case he doesn’t want to talk about any of it.

As you both enter his apartment, it’s almost so domesticated how you take off your shoes and put them in the rack in the threshold. Jungkook wears his black sliders while you wear your baby blue ones. Following him into the living room, it’s almost wild to see yourself being so familiar with his place already.

“Where can we watch The X-Files?” Jungkook asks suddenly after he set the bags on the table, going for the remote and turning on the TV.

You look at him in surprise, not expecting him to ask that.

You answer nonetheless, and Jungkook clicks on the show once it shows up on the screen.

“Do you really want to start with the pilot episode?” You chuckle when he hovers over it.

Jungkook grins. “I enjoyed it last night. Maybe this could be a new favorite.”

“Woah,” you breathed, shaking your head. “Do you know how much I have to convince Jimin to watch this show?”

“Jimin doesn’t like shows. I wanted him to watch Suits but he said he couldn’t stand Harvey Specter – which is fair.”

“Oh my god, that’s also what he told me when I recommended Suits!” You say. You narrow your eyes at him, excited about the information. “So… you like Suits?”

Jungkook nods. “Sort of like a guilty pleasure? I used to watch it a lot in college. My roommate studied law and started telling me about how inaccurate it was, but it’s fun regardless,” He says with a shrug. “Sue me.”

“I know, right! People always wanna be smart about procedural dramas, but I think it’s just camp they can’t comprehend,” You shake your head, feeling a certain high bubble inside you. You lean your elbows on the coffee table. “Okay, okay, thoughts on Jessica Pearson?”

Jungkook grins. “A dream.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m so glad you have the correct opinion.”

Jungkook laughs at that, and you begin to eat the take-out he bought, The X-Files playing on the big screen before you.

“You went home early today,” you comment as you take the shot glass he offers you.

A few minutes has passed already and you’re beginning to open the bottles of soju, Midday Miso take-out boxes all finished.

“Managed to finish early tonight. That’s probably why I wanted to drink,” Jungkook says, tipping his head back to drink from his own bottle. “Also, it’s your last day here.”

You nod. With a teasing smile, you jab, “Are you going to miss me?”

Jungkook looks at you briefly.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” You ask incredulously, feigning hurt.

He chuckles. “I liked your little dance in the kitchen last Sunday.”

Your lips part, recalling that time when you reheated some pizza during the night. As far as you were concerned, Jungkook was in his bedroom at that time!

“You saw that?” You say, embarrassed.

Jungkook must’ve noticed, because he chuckles and begins to sound comforting when he says, “Some part of it, yeah. Megan Thee Stallion would love to perform with you, I think.”

“Oh my god, no,” You giggle, covering your face with your hands because if he caught you during that part, it means he saw you trying to throw it back. “Yeah, I think I’m packing my things right now.”

Jungkook laughs, and his eyes crinkle as he does so, overjoyed at your tactics.

“I thought you wanted to drink with me?”

You squint your eyes. “Just because I feel sorry for pushing you off the couch this morning.”

He shakes his head, still chuckling. “Yeah, that hurt. I think I have a bump on my head right now.”

You stop, eyes widening. “Seriously?”

Jungkook presses his lips together and nods. You grow concerned, ready to lean over the table to check the back of his head, but as you do so, Jungkook makes a sound of stifling his laugh and you realize he’s fucking with you.

“That’s so mean.” you say, going back to your side and pouting at him.

“Not meaner than you pushing me off the couch.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. You just surprised me, 's all!”

Jungkook laughs and nods his head. “I know, I know. I’m sorry about that. I have a habit of being able to sleep anywhere.”

You scrunch your face. “Me too.”

And then a beat of silence.

Jungkook tips his head back for another sip of his alcohol. When he looks at you again, a gentle smile is playing on his lips.

“I had a good night sleep, though. Did you?”

He looks at you with something in his eyes – something soft and gentle – his gaze making the hair on your nape stand and your cheeks burn.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The night continues to envelope your surroundings and as time passes by, the empty bottles of soju multiply.

You’ve always had a high tolerance for alcohol – and soju, in particular, is generally not too strong for you personally. With one bottle in, you don’t feel hammered just yet. There’s a daze at the back of your head that you’re starting to feel, though. One and a half is your limit, sometimes two – you’ve had that down since college.

Jungkook seems to share the same trait, it seems like. You noticed he’s on his second one, and even though his cheeks are starting to get painted red, he still speaks with you like he’s a hundred percent conscious and not like alcohol’s hit his system already.

“It’s so hot,” you say, popping open the first two buttons of your shirt. Jungkook’s coat has long been disposed on the couch, and his ties are loosened, with the long sleeves of his dress shirt pushed to his elbow, showing his tattoos.

“Should I adjust the AC?” Jungkook asks, looking at you as you gather your hair up in a ponytail.

You manage to secure it even without a tie and answer him, “No, it’s fine.”

When you feel like you can breathe again, you look at Jungkook. As you think about what to say next, you giggle lightly.

“Let’s have some fun with these,” You point to the empty bottle of soju. Jungkook quirks his brow, which prompts you to continue. “Let’s play spin the bottle. When it points at you, you have to answer some questions. If you don’t want to, then you’ll have to drink.”

Jungkook snorts. “Truth or dare? Really?”

You roll your eyes. “No, not truth or dare. Just truth because I’m sophisticated like that. Besides, are you going to entertain me if I dare you to wear a rainbow suit for work tomorrow?”

“This is your idea of fun?” Jungkook says, teasing you. Playful with a boyish grin.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s quite fun, actually. But I know about how thirty-year-olds get. If it’s past your bedtime, then…” you glance at the door to his bedroom.

Jungkook bursts out in laughter.

“You like making it sound like I’m sixty, don’t you?”

“Are you?” You pout.

Jungkook chuckles, although relenting to your game proposition.

“Alright…”

You do a little shoulder dance which makes Jungkook shake his head. As you spin the bottle, it stops and points at him. You let out a little sound of enthusiasm.

“Okay. What’s that mean?” You ask. Jungkook looks confused as he tries to see what you’re looking at. His arm. “That flower tattoo – or if it even has a meaning.”

“Oh,” Jungkook utters, realizing. He lifts up his right arm and twists it so that the flower tattoo is within both your sight. There, you see a full view of the flower drawing tattooed in orange ink. You find yourself staring at it as Jungkook starts to speak, “It’s a tiger lily. My birth flower. It means…” You can see Jungkook hesitate for a little while, and you’re just about to take back your question when he continues to say, “It means please love me.”

“Wow.” You gasp. “That’s… so pretty.”

Jungkook caresses his forearm, staring quite lovingly at the art. “I know. My tattoo artist did a really good job.”

He takes it to himself to spin the bottle again, and this time, it points at you.

“Well… do you have a tattoo?” Jungkook asks, and it’s obvious he meant to tease.

You nod your head. His playful smile drops.

“Are you serious?”

You raise your brow at him. “Sorry. Only one question gets entertained.”

He clicks his tongue playfully but then begins to spin the bottle one more time. When it points at you again, he gives you a smirk.

“Can I see your tattoo if you’re saying you have one?”

You scrunch your face, cocking your head to the side.

“Hm. I don’t think so. It’s under my boob. So.”

Jungkook stills, and you watch as his eyes trail down from your face down to your collar – although he did it quite subtly.

“Oh.”

You grin. “Yeah, “oh”,” you chuckle. When he shakes his head, you tell him, “What?” You look at him weird, regardless of the smile on your lips. He stares right back at you, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Ohh, I see. You think I’m lying.”

“No, I’m not,” he scoffs. “I just thought…”

“You just thought what?”

“I just thought you wouldn’t have one. Or if you did, it’d be a like a small thing on the leg or something. I don’t know.” He shrugs, still smiling.

You grin. “Interesting insight.”

“Nevermind that.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, spinning the bottle again.

When the rotation stills at his direction, you clap a little and put your elbows on the coffee table.

Your next question sounds stupid in your head, but you let it out anyway.

“What’s your ideal type?” You ask.

“Oh, are we doing that?” Jungkook says, sounding intrigued. “Are you going to ask me about my first kiss next?”

You snort. “This feels so high school. But answer my question.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He playfully gives you a salute. You couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, well, I like women who are smart and… funny,” Jungkook says, and when he looks at you, you move back a little. With a soft smile, he adds, “And pretty.”

You break the eye contact. Raising your brow, you nod your head. “Pretty women. Like Kang Heesu, right?”

Jungkook looks surprised when he hears the name.

“How do you know her?”

“How can I not? Jimin’s mother has been trying to set him up with her for months now.” You shrug.

Jungkook chuckles, as if he knows exactly what you’re talking about.

“Yeah. You’re right – not about the part that she’s my ideal type, though.”

You can’t help but let out a scoff.

“That’s such a cop-out answer, Jungkook.”

He looks at you incredulously, chuckling as he says, “What? It’s not a cop-out, it’s the truth.”

“You’re awfully close with her. I heard from my coworkers you’re both dating.” You raise a brow at him.

It’s true. Words are starting to get around the office that Jungkook and Heesu are more than just collaborators.

Of course, you know to ignore that. Not because you want to be in denial or anything – but because you just don’t think it is actually true.

But maybe poking fun at it will get you the confirmation. Or whatever. It doesn’t matter.

Jungkook laughs at your previous words, though, as if you just told him a big joke.

“God, no,” he shakes his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. “They’re really saying that?” You nod your head, your lips pressed into a thin line. “I ought to make everybody know we’re just working together. You know about the project the company has in collaboration with Kang Tech, right?”

“Yeah.”

“There you go,” Jungkook chuckles. “I’m not dating Kang Heesu.”

The words feel a bit different in your ears. Paired with the way he looked at you as he said it, he sounded as though he was… almost assuring you.

But of what?

You shake off the idea in your head.

“Okay. Next one.” you interrupt the silence to change the subject. You curse in your head when the bottle stops at you.

“Your turn. What’s your ideal type?” Jungkook asks as if his tongue is just itching to ask you that. You know he’s just excited to get back at you.

You think about it for a moment, though, and you find you don’t really know what to say.

It’s not a thought you ponder over a lot. The guys that you’ve been with were so… different from each other.

“I—I’m not sure,” you shake your head, genuine.

Jungkook points at the shot glass. “New rule. I’ll count to ten and if you don’t answer, you drink.”

You glare at him; he just gives you a grin.

“I really don’t know! I mean, my past relationships are so different from each other,” you say, pouting. “But— okay. I guess I like guys who are… confident,” You look at Jungkook and then let your mind float. “And I guess I also like somebody who’s…” You watch as he leans in closer to wait for your next words. Your feel blood rushing to your cheeks as you finish up with, “Attentive. I like good listeners. Yeah.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods. And then, he adds, “Is Shin Taemu from the IT department a good listener, then?”

Your brows furrow. “Shin Taemu?” He nods. That earns a laugh from you. “No, we’re friends.”

“Friends?” Jungkook asks curiously.

“Well, we – uh – did date. Didn’t work out. So. We’re only friends now.”

“Date, as in, a long relationship?” His eyes are so full of genuine curiosity that you cower away from them.

You shake your head at his question. “No, no – not long relationship, it wasn’t like that. I meant date as in – dinner date. Once.” You look at the shot glass and down it because of the sudden nerves that enter you. “We’re doing this game wrong.”

Jungkoon chuckles at the way you drink another glass. He mirrors your action, though, and ask, “How so? We’re questioning each other.”

“Yeah, but it’s too many questions!” You complain, jutting your lips into a pout.

“You said you only wanted truth, so there goes your questions,” Jungkook says. You roll your eyes, which makes him laugh. “Okay, just so I can amuse you, I’ll do a dare if it points at me, and you’ll do one if it stops at you. Deal?”

When you nod, Jungkook spins the bottle. He did it quite forcefully that the bottle takes a longer time to stop. You both watch keenly as it begins to slow down. Nervous, you pray it doesn’t stop at you, and you let out a sigh of relief when it finally points to Jungkook.

Jungkook shakes his head when you let out a contained, “Yes!”

“I dare you to…” you trail off, watching as he looks at you curiously. “Let me pluck your brows.”

“What?” Jungkook asks incredulously.

“A promise is a promise.” You remind him.

“Like all of them?”

“What? Of course no!” You chuckle, seeing the genuine panic in his eyes.

“Oh.”

“You silly,” You say, laughing at him. “Not right now, though. I actually feel like I’m about to pass out. Oh my god, I have to tend to a hung-over tomorrow.” You let your face fall into your hands and stifle a groan.

“I’ll cook us some porridge or something, don’t worry.” Jungkook says. Curiously, he asks, “Why do you want to pluck my brows?”

You stare at him, and then focus your eyes onto his brows.

Pouting, you let your shoulders deflate as you sigh. “They’re so thick.”

“What?” Jungkook lets out, laughing incredulously. “I’m so confused.”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay… well, would you let me pluck your brows?”

You try to think about it.

“No,” you shake your head. You add, “Unless you’re flirting with me.”

Jungkook stops. And then raises a brow. “Unless I’m flirting with you…”

You snap your eyes to look at him. Mirroring his brow, you ask, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” Jungkook looks at you, lips tilted into a barely-there smirk that suddenly makes your cheeks burn with heat. “Do you like it?”

It takes you a while to answer, processing his words. You don’t know if he’s joking or what. Is this just his usual teasing? It feels different this time.

But why are you denying it again to yourself, though? You may be stupid sometimes, but you know his teasing gets a little… borderline flirty. You’re scared to ask him about it outright, though – afraid to be faced with the possible truth that it’s just your head playing mind-tricks for you; that Jungkook, with his teasing, is not flirty at all and you’re just flattering yourself to think about it that way.

But right now, his question feels real.

If he is flirting with you… do you like it?

You pour a drink into the shotglass and down it quickly. You feel your vision starting to get a little hazy as you put it down the table.

Jungkook realizes what you just did, and then throw his head back to laugh.

“Now, that was a cop-out.” He says, pointing to the trick that you just did.

You give him a smirk. “No rules about not answering except down a drink.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Smart girl.”

He watches as you stand up, but when you trip over the carpet, he’s quick to follow and go over to your direction to hold your wrist, his arm going around your waist to guide you to stand upright.

“You okay?” He asks. When you look up, your faces are just a hair's breadth away.

“Hm.” You hum, blinking your eyes up at him. You find it’s because your lids are starting to get heavy.

“Be careful.” Jungkook says, but he doesn’t let go of your waist, nor your wrist.

You stand there in the middle of the living room with that position, and weirdly enough, you feel like you’re both glued on it.

You can’t move – or don’t want to. You wish you want to. But you don’t, and it’s why you let Jungkook’s fingers trail softly to your waist.

“You look real sleepy,” he comments – whispers, more like, his bated breath hitting your skin.

“I am a bit dazy.” You say, finding yourself indulging in his touch.

Somehow, Jungkook never makes a move to get away even when you’re already steady on both feet. You feel that fading away so soon though, your knees starting to feel like they’re about to buckle at the way Jungkook’s eyes bore deep into your own. You feel a sort of heightened sense within your body, his hand on your back making something in you tingle.

It’s so intimate – the position. Jungkook looms over you with his much bigger frame and with his support on your back, you can just let yourself fall back.

Can you, though? Are you sure he’s going to catch you?

“You do look a little dazy,” Jungkook comments, but his eyes have traveled down to your face, and you can see them stop at your lips.

That makes them part.

You see Jungkook’s adam’s apple bobbing at the action.

“I do feel dazy,” you say, parroting back his words. Maybe they’re coming off slurred. You don’t know. You find you don’t care.

Jungkook’s lips tilt into a gentle smile. Soft like his demeanor. Soft like his arm that somehow found a way to tighten its hold around you even though you don’t need it. But it’s Jungkook though, and as much as you deny it even to yourself – you do like his touch.

“Yeah, you told me so.” His voice becomes an octave lower. His hands start to rub your clothed waist, and the ministrations of his thumb distract you a bit.

You roam your eyes around his face – noting the scar on his cheek which story you want to know so bad. When you trail you eyes down to his lips, you see the mole under it. You don’t think you were being subtle at all – it’s quite obvious that you’re just staring.

And you know Jungkook notices.

“Jungkook,” you breathed out, calling him about nothing in particular.

His only response is a small, gentle hum.

A beat of silence, and you feel Jungkook’s face leaning closer to yours.

You don’t make a move away from him, just let your legs stay where they are, letting Jungkook slowly pull you to him. You can tell his movements are slower than usual – like he’s testing the waters, searching for something in your eyes, quietly asking if it’s okay – if what he’s about to do is okay.

It makes your heart hammer against your chest – his breathing becoming more audible in your own ears. His mouth reeks of the soju you both drank earlier, but you’ve always liked the smell of it, especially when it comes with a man as breathtaking as him.

You feel the tip of his nose touching yours, your chest pressing against his own, his hand travelling from your waist to the back of your head.

When Jungkook leans down to close the gap, you swerve your face just in time to have his lips press against your hair instead.

“I’m sleepy.” You say quietly, a nervous lilt to your voice. You duck your head a little lower, laying your face on his chest and bury it with his scent.

You can feel Jungkook freeze in his position, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. You hope he doesn’t feel the way your heart goes abnormal in your chest with such proximity – but right now, all you want to do is hide. Hide your face away from him because if he sees you, he’ll know exactly what you’re thinking.

He’ll know exactly the effect he has on you.

It takes a few seconds of silence before Jungkook comes back to you.

“Hm,” He hums, and you feel his hand letting go of your wrist to wrap around your waist, squeezing for a brief moment. Jungkook’s other hand cradles your head to his chest, swiping his hand against your hair in a repeated manner, and with the way he rests his chin on the crown of your head, you feel comfort in the whole thing. “We should sleep.”

“Yeah…” you trail off, and you can just feel your lids getting heavier at the remark.

“Yeah?”

“Hm.”

“I’ll take the couch. Do you want to shower first?” You shake your head against his chest. You feel it vibrating when he chuckles. “Okay.”

“My body feels like jelly.” You say, and you feel that to be actually true.

“Is that code for “carry me to your bed, Jungkook”?”

You’re thankful your face is buried in his chest as you smile widely.

“Do you want it to be?”

“I don’t mind.”

You nod. “Good. I think I’ll get alcohol poisoning tomorrow.”

You feel Jungkook lifting his chin off your head as he sounds scold-y when he says, “Don’t joke like that.”

You giggle against his chest.

“Carry me before I pass out.”

Jungkook snorts. “Ohh. Bossy.”

“It’s my last day here. I deserve some slack.” You grumble.

“Fine.”

TAGLIST: @mortal-body-timelesssoul @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lachimolalajeon @miniesjams32 @parkinglot-nights @peterstarkchrishiddleston @aznstoner @chuberry22 @tae-hibiscus @jungkooksmytype

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[bloodyknucklesforme]

Pomegranate | Nikolai x F!Reader

Chapter 7

Nikolai returns you

cw: dark fic, dubcon/noncon, reader is being trafficked, human trafficking, physical abuse

Masterpost

This is what it felt like to be devoured. To be held above gnashing teeth, ready to be masticated to bones and blood. A whole year of being chewed on till you could barely recognize yourself. 

A year ago you were in a similar position. Standing in your flat, crying to Marcus about the eviction notice when Arno walked in calling your name. Seeing him next to Nikolai made it seem like your world was collapsing all over again.

A year ago you screamed and begged for Marcus to save you, to not let this happen, to protect you. You wouldn’t debase yourself by doing the same with Nikolai. You shrugged off the fur and pushed it into his arms.

“Keep it.” He went to throw it over your shoulders and you skirted to the side.

“I don’t want it.”

“I’ll take it.” Arno snatched the coat from the air and threw it over his own shoulder. “You still owe me for all this time, Nikolai. Consider it a gesture of good faith.”

Arno grabbed your bloodied arm and yanked you out the door. Nikolai’s lip twisted in anger, “Get out of my house.”

You scooped up your clothes and quickly changed, trying to avoid Arno’s leering. You still had your coat and the cash inside. You kept moving to avoid breaking down. You weren’t leaving heaven but Arno was a different type of hell.

You made it two steps outside before being thrown to the ground, a bright spike of pain radiating from the back of your head. Arno put his knee on your back and grabbed your hair, pulling your head back as far as it would go.

“You stupid fucking bitch. What did you do?” He shook your head up and down rapidly. You moved your hands in front of your face to avoid eating the pavement. You prayed for a gunshot, to feel Arno slump on top of you and to be pulled out from under him by Nikolai. He was so close, a couple meters away. 

Arno dragged you by the hair to the car, the snow soaking your legs through your pants. You didn’t dare fight him. Arno lacked all of Nikolai’s restraint, always letting his anger explode into violence. You had to crawl into the car after him, hand scraping against the dirty carpet. 

“You know he hasn’t fucking paid me.” He kicked your side, battering you against the driver’s seat. “This whole time he’s put off paying for you.”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you up onto the seat, “Can you believe that?”

He smushed your cheeks, fingers digging into your jaw. He looked to Abel as they pulled away, “I think we should just fucking kill him. He talks about respect then he fucks me!”

“I never trust Russians.” Abel shrugged. “Just refuse to send him any more girls. But there is a reason your father told you not to piss him off.”

“I’m not afraid of some arms dealer! This cunt,” he shook your head, “isn’t fucking afraid. She scratched up his fucking face.”

Abel laughed, “Did she really?”

“Yes and now he won’t pay me.” He slapped you. Your head was pounding now, the car spinning around widely. Drugs or concussion you didn’t know at this point. “Waste of fucking time. Getting rid of her this week. Hear that? You’re too much trouble for what your cunt is worth.”

You put your head between your knees, your stomach lurching up towards your throat. 

“Maybe the Austrian will take her. The big one. He breaks his toys so often, always needs a new one.”

You had one moment. One chance. If he got you back to the club you’d never escape. You had 1k in cash. That could get you out of the country. 

You forced yourself to gag till you felt it bubble up from your stomach. Arno yelled in disgust as you threw up in his lap. Abel cursed as he pulled over the car. You grabbed the back of Arno’s neck and put all your weight into throwing his head full force against the center console. Blood poured from his nose, mixing with the vomit on the floor. 

The doors unlocked as Abel parked the car. You threw yourself out of the car and took off down the street.

You had never run so fast in your life. You thought about Cassie. You’d make it for her. You’d make it for yourself.

You rushed down the steps into a tube station and jumped the turnstile and flew onto the first train you saw, not carrying where it was going. You collapsed into a seat once the doors closed. You didn’t see Arno or Abel on the platform as you pulled away. 

Your hands were shaking but you were free. You’d made it. There was a limit to Arno’s reach and once you were out of it you’d never have to worry about him again. 

Nikolai…

“I will hurt her more than they ever could.”

Maybe he would never look for you. Arno would never admit you got away. He’d tell Nik you were dead. You hoped that your supposed death haunted him. He would haunt you.

Up until last night he’d lulled you into this state of pliancy. A doll for him to dress up and fuck as he pleased. His cruelty felt disingenuous, a forced reminder to the both of you that this was the man he was. It pulled apart your heart to think about. All those nights where you fell asleep with your head on his chest or tucked up against his side. His hand would graze over you till you squirmed, complaining he was tickling you. He’d smile softly and do it once more just to see you laugh. You would never see him again and a part of you felt sad. 

You didn’t get off the train till the line ended. You went to the nearest Lidl and bought food for the next couple days. Hopefully you would be on a train this time tomorrow. You’d go to Edinburgh and figure out how to get home from there. You just couldn’t stay in London. 

There was a cheap hotel a few blocks away from the grocery store. It was disgusting with stiff sheets and the pervasive stench of mildew but you had a whole bed to yourself. You just slept on top of the covers. 

For over sixteen hours…

Your arm ached the next morning. In the dingy bathroom you peeled off Nikolai’s improvised bandage. It wasn’t bleeding but the skin was discolored and swollen. You’d get it looked at later. 

You didn’t really have a plan. There were organizations that could help you but you couldn’t tell them anything about Nikolai and Arno would sell out anyone and everyone so you couldn’t tell them anything about him either. Would they even believe you then?

You could answer that question in Edinburgh. You had to just keep moving. 

You knew LNER ran trains to Edinburgh out of King’s Cross. You and a friend had gone once. You ate an apple and granola bar before setting off again, keeping your head down and the collar of your coat up.

You held back tears as you approached the station. In less than five hours you’d be good. No more looking over your shoulder. Your hands shook as you handed over the money for your ticket. A hundred pounds.

You had roughly half an hour before it arrived. Enough time to get a cheap cup of coffee. Nikolai had an espresso machine but it lacked the comfort that a shitty cup of coffee gave you. One that you customized with the exact amount of cream and sugar you liked. 

You sat outside the station cafe and smiled down at your little paper cup. 

“This seat taken?” A large hand rested on the back of the chair across from you. The voice made your stomach drop.

John stood there, a teasing smile on his face. You pushed your chair back, ready to sprint away, scream for help.

“I’m not going to stop you.” He sat down, pulling his leg over his knee. “Our mutual friend hasn’t told me you ran off so you either killed him or you ran away from someone else.”

“Arno wants to kill him.” You blurted. John raised an eyebrow at you. 

“It would be funny to see him try,” He chuckled. “How’d you escape?”

“I threw up on him and then broke his nose.” 

John covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. “Nik always knows how to pick them.”

“Are you going to bring me back?”

“No. Unless you want me to.”

You could prostrate yourself at Nik’s feet. Clean his feet with your hair, humiliate yourself in an attempt to win his favor again. It would be easier than rebuilding your life. He could keep you safe from Arno. 

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“You break his nose too?”

“I scratched him.” John wasn’t a priest so your confessional state surprised you. This was the man that had assaulted you only two nights before. 

“I’ve done worse to him.” He shrugged. “He does like you. More than I’ve seen before. Thought he was gonna rip my head off when you passed out.”

He’d been so gentle when you woke up. You remembered that. How nervous he looked. He never said sorry yet still blamed himself for ‘overdoing it’. 

“My train is going to be here soon. I have to go.”

“If he wants to, he’ll find you.” There should be a word for things that are both comforting and terrifying. Like the ocean or thunderstorms or Nikolai. 

You quickly downed the rest of your coffee before standing.

“Have a nice day, John.” 

You turned around and walked into another person.

“I’m sorry…”

Arno stood there with a bruised, bandaged nose and a sneer. John’s chair scraped harshly against the floor.

“Sit the fuck back down.” Arno looked over you, towards John. Something sharp pressed against your stomach. “I will gut her, right now.” 

You looked back over your shoulder. John was looking over the two of you. 

“Don’t ruin my day by making me talk to the police.” John sighed before waving his hand away, “Take her. She’s not my problem. Might want to keep a better grip this time. Though she can only improve your ugly mug.”

Arno yanked you closer, you sucked in your stomach to prevent being punctured. 

“C’mon. We’re going home.” 

You gave John a pleading look. If you screamed you would die. If you didn’t you would die. This was it. Your last chance of escape was being called for boarding over the speakers. 

He held up three fingers before tapping the outside of his wrist. 

“I’m going to have so much fun killing you.” Arno growled in your ear as he dragged you down a side street. Abel was waiting by the car. You were shoved into the open boot.“Pick which fingers you want broken first.”

He slammed the boot shut, leaving you in darkness. 

[lonely-ey3s]

Ride or Die | Chapter Three

pairing: rodeo/cowboy!joel miller x f!reader

chapter summary : With you and Joel growing closer on the Ferris wheel and afterwards - your father continues to overstep boundaries. When Joel invites you to go dancing with him and his brother, Tommy, your trust is tested, and you've never felt so confused and conflicted with those around you that you thought you could count on.

chapter warnings: fluff, slow burn-ish, angst, Joel pre-outbreak and pre Sarah. Joel and reader are mid to late 20's. Joel speaks Spanish (translations will be there), reader has a somewhat emotionally abusive father, gaslighting, racism, flirting, flashbacks, sexual harassment, drinking, mentions of SMUT (18+ MDNI), teasing, sexual tension.

word count: 7.3k

a/n: as a reminder, chapters will be every other sunday-- alternating with heartlines !!

your feedback is very important to me, and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments, and likes. I secretly hope you like this story. 🤍

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

Masterlist

The Ferris wheel rose slowly, the car swaying just a little as it climbed higher into the summer night.

Below, the fair stretched out in every direction — glittering booths, winding rows of food trucks, the carousel spinning in soft, golden circles. Music drifted up on the breeze, mixed with the distant laughs and voices of those below. 

You leaned slightly over the edge, not dangerously, just enough to take it all in. The air felt cooler up here, the chaos below softened by distance. It was beautiful. It felt like magic.

And then… a knot formed in your chest.

Because you’d seen this view before.

Same fair. Same warm air. Same twinkling lights.

Only back then… you’d been alone.

The memory hit you fast — unexpected and sharp. 

The night you’d begged Riley back in high school to take you to the fair, just like this. You wanted to see the 4th of July fireworks show, something your mom always took you to. It was something special, something you wanted to share with him.

You could still hear the sound of his voice, flat and dismissive: “You seriously gonna cry over corn dogs and Ferris wheels?”

The sting of standing there in your sundress  – one you wore just for him.

The pain of watching him peel away in a car full of his buddies, like you were nothing more than an inconvenience.

You remembered walking the fairgrounds alone that night, pretending not to care. Telling yourself the lights and the noise were enough. But up on the Ferris wheel alone, you had looked down at the fair and realized something you couldn’t un-realize.

You hadn’t just wanted cotton candy and fireworks. You wanted to be chosen.

And he hadn’t.

Your chest tightened, but before the ache could pull you under, a warm hand settled on top of yours.

You turned your head, blinking back into the present — into this moment.

Joel sat beside you, his fingers laced with yours, thumb tracing slow, grounding circles along your knuckles. 

He didn’t say anything, didn’t have to. He just looked at you with that open, steady kind of gaze that made you feel like maybe the whole world had waited for you both to get here.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, gentle.

You nodded slowly, your throat thick. “Yeah. Just… remembering an old memory...”

He didn’t press. He just lifted your joined hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles softly, holding you like something precious, something wanted.

And when the Ferris wheel creaked to a stop at the very top, the fireworks cracked open in the sky — brilliant and loud and beautiful.

You leaned into him, looking above you in awe, and whispered, “Thank you for being here.”

Joel smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, hermosa…”

You smiled and leaned your head onto his shoulder as the two of you watched the show.

A few moments went by, and the tension of the show building up to the big finale made the tension between the two of you intense. 

You looked down at your hand in his and bit your lip, remembering the events of today: the photo booth, the stables, the kiss.

You couldn’t put it into words, the feeling. The light sense of comfort you had all day, the safety, the sense of being desired by someone who was a good person — a good man.

He looked down and did the same, reminiscing about every moment he’d had with you today. His heart hadn’t calmed down from constantly pounding in his chest, the butterflies in his stomach kept fluttering, and his mind was racing. You — it was all you. He was consumed, intoxicated, and completely committed to you. 

He turned his head a fraction to kiss the top of yours before softly saying your name.

You glanced up at him and hummed in acknowledgment. Your eyes danced across his features, slowly, as a warm smile stretched across your face, taking in the look in his eyes. 

His hand reached across with his free hand and tucked your hair behind your ear before his fingertips softly caressed your cheek. The lights of the fireworks making your eyes sparkle. "God, you're so beautiful..." He leaned in and whispered. “Soñaré contigo…” (I’ll dream of you)

Before you had a chance to speak, he closed the distance. He kissed your lips tenderly but deeply, moving his hand further back to cradle you by the base of your neck. 

Fireworks began to go off rapidly as the show began it's finale presentation. 

But you didn’t hear it.

You didn’t jump when they struck the sky like you usually did. No – everything was muted, floating around you in slow motion.

His lips on yours had the effect of putting you into a trance, slowing down all space and time — doing something that no physicist could ever explain. 

Your hand instinctually moved to his chest. Your palm laying over his heart as it beat rapidly in his chest. 

When he pulled back he leaned his forehead against yours and nudged his nose against yours gently. “Wanna get a funnel cake to share and go sit in my truck? Talk for a bit? I’ll drive ya home…” he opened his eyes and stroked your cheek with his thumb.  

You blushed, your eyes staying close, staying in the moment with him as long as you could. You softly giggled as your eyes opened and you looked up into his eyes, “Yeah, I’d like that…” 

He smiled and leaned up, kissing your forehead before he leaned back, and the two of you waited together as the ride came back down. 

After the two of you got off the Ferris wheel, the night died down, and the fair had quieted. 

The fireworks were over. The Ferris wheel lights had gone dim, and most of the crowd had filtered out, arms full of prizes and leftover popcorn.

You and Joel sat on the tailgate of his truck, parked just far enough from the fairgrounds that the noise felt like a memory. A half-empty cup of lemonade sat between you two as you sat and shared that funnel cake together. 

The night air had cooled, but his hoodie around your shoulders kept you warm. You hadn’t asked for it—he’d just handed it to you the second you got out there without saying a word.

You were quiet for a while. And he didn’t rush you, he just enjoyed your company.

Just sat with you, shoulder to shoulder, like silence wasn’t something that had to be filled, but something you two could share.

Finally, you exhaled slowly and said, “I’ve only been up there one other time… on the Ferris wheel.”

Joel turned his head, waiting.

You stared straight ahead, fingers picking at the hem of the hoodie sleeve. “It was years ago. High school. I really wanted to come, but Riley… well, he ditched me. Said he had something better to do. So I came alone. Rode the Ferris wheel by myself. I was so convinced I was fine, that being alone was ok.” Your voice faltered for a moment, but you kept going. “But, I remember sitting up there, watching everyone else laugh and hold hands and... I just felt stupid. Like I wanted something from him… something that I didn’t deserve.”

Joel didn’t say anything at first. He just gently reached over, threading his fingers through yours, letting the silence stretch—safe, not empty.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he said finally, his voice steady. “You never deserved to be made to feel small. Or unwanted.”

You looked over at him, your eyes wet but clear. “I know that now. Hell, I don’t know why I left here to follow him to Nashville. I knew it wouldn’t work out… I mean, deep down, something always sat wrong,” you sadly scoffed and shook your head. “But back then… I really thought it was my fault, or things would get better.”

He turned fully towards you then, reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with his free hand.

“I wish I did a lot with you back then… I saw how he treated you, and I just sat back. I didn’t think it was any of my business." he looked down for a moment, shamefully, then back up. "But — I regret the time I haven’t been able to give you — time where you feel like you are enough.” he paused, and his eyes scanned your features. 

“I wish I could've been up there... to hold your hand and tell you that one day, you’d never have to wonder if you were enough again.” He sat there for a moment then spoke more surely.

Your breath caught.

“Because you are,” he added. “You’re more than enough. You always have been. And I’m sorry anyone ever made you feel otherwise.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks silently, but he kissed them away — slow, tender. No urgency. No performance. Just lovingly pressed into your skin like a promise.

“I felt it tonight,” you whispered when pulled away. “The difference. What it’s like to be… chosen.”

Joel smiled, soft and sure. “I’ll choose you every damn time, querida.”

You leaned into him, head resting on his shoulder, as his arm wrapped around you, strong and steady.

After some time you both decided it was time to head home.

The drive back was quiet in the best kind of way.

Your head leaned gently against the passenger window, the distant glow of the fairgrounds fading in the rearview mirror. The truck's cab smelled faintly of mint and dust, and his cologne — the kind of scent that settles into your memory whether you want it to or not.

Joel tapped the steering wheel softly in time with the country song playing low on the radio. Every so often, he glanced over at you, like he was making sure you were still okay… still with him after the heavy conversation earlier.

You caught one of those glances and smiled softly. “You’re doing that thing again...”

“What thing?” he asked, but his grin gave him away.

You let out a light chuckle, “Looking at me like you’re trying to figure something out.”

He shrugged, eyes flicking back to the road. “Just trying to decide if I’m gonna be able to wait more than a day to see you again, hermosa.” 

Your heart fluttered — the same way it had when he held your hand at the top of the Ferris wheel or when he kissed you in the photobooth like the world had stopped for just the two of you.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, cowboy…” you teased.

When he reached your driveway, he threw the truck in park but didn’t turn the key. The engine hummed quietly beneath you two. Crickets sang outside like the night was still wide awake, even if the rest of the world was asleep.

He climbed out first and came around to open your door, offering his hand like a cowboy straight out of a movie — the good kind. The kind who meant every gentle touch and slow smile.

At your doorstep, you turned to face him, your fingers brushing his lightly.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, looking up at him as you wore his two-sizes-too-big hoodie over your sundress. If he could, he’d take a picture at how damn cute he thought you looked right now.

“For what?” he teased his fingers with yours as they lay between the two of you, shyly. 

“For today... for tonight. For… being the exact opposite of everything I’ve ever known.”

Joel stepped a little closer, his voice low and warm. “You deserve everything good, you know that?”

A slight breeze blew behind you, blowing a strand of hair onto your face, causing you both to chuckle softly. 

He reached out and tucked it behind your ear, letting his fingertips trail down your jaw before tilting your chin up.

Then he kissed you.

It was soft, at first — careful. But it deepened just enough to leave you breathless, your hands curling into the front of his shirt. It was a goodnight kiss that didn’t want to say goodbye yet.

When you finally pulled apart, he kept his forehead resting against yours, your breaths mingling in the quiet.

“I wanna take you dancing,” he said suddenly.

You blinked. “What?”

He chuckled. “Me, you, and my brother go out to this cowboy bar on the edge of town. Live music, two-stepping, probably some terrible line dances... you in?”

You grinned, heart skipping. “Are you asking me on a second date with your brother as a chaperone?” you teased, reaching up and gently combing his hair back over his ear. 

He craved the contact you gave him; the small gestures like that will have him singing Frank Sinatra on the way home with the windows rolled down. 

“He's more of a third-wheel, really,” Joel said. “But yeah. I’m asking.”

“I’m in,” you said, smiling up at him. “But only if you promise to spin me around at least once.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, brushing one last kiss against your lips. “I’ll spin you all night long.”

You laughed and then hummed against his lips, “It’s late…” you whispered. 

He whispered back, “I know…” he took a deep breath, inhaling your sweet scent once more before he pulled away and walked backwards, slowly letting go of your hand.  

“Goodnight, cowboy...” you said as you reached behind and twisted the door open. 

“Goodnight, querida…” he stood at the bottom of your porch steps, looking up at you. 

You reluctantly stepped inside with your heart full and your cheeks warm.

But when you closed the door, you didn’t feel the old familiar ache of being left behind.

You felt chosen.

You sighed softly with your back against the front door and smiled to yourself.

After a few moments, you quietly took off your shoes and started tiptoeing towards the stairs. 

Right before you crossed the boundary from the living room to the hallway, a light from behind came on.

“It’s 1 o’clock in the mornin’, where the hell have you been?” your dad said, sounding annoyed, a hint of anger. 

‘Oh for fuck sakes…’ you thought, annoyed. 

You turned around and sighed. “I told you that I’d be home late. Not to wait up.” 

“Yeah, and I texted back sayin’ to be home before midnight.” he stood from the chair he’d been sitting in. “Was that him? The Miller boy?” 

“You say that like saying his first name makes it dirty or too real.” You shook your head and leaned against the doorframe. “His name is Joel… and yes, that was him.” You crossed your arms over your chest, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from mouthing off.  

He stood there and clenched his jaw, trying to keep his temper under control. “I told you he wasn’t welcome here…” 

“Yeah I know — which is why he dropped me off at the door.” you bit out harshly. “What? Is he barred from the property?” you sarcastically asked. 

He turned and looked out the window, his anger starting to boil with your lack of respect and sarcasm. 

“Dad, I’m a grown adult. For you to tell me that my date can’t come onto the property seems ridiculous and an abuse of power.” you said plainly. 

“Yeah, well, you don’t pay the mortgage, do you? So I guess I pay — I make the rules,” he said without turning his head. 

“Oh, so if this is about money, I’d be happy to pay rent if it means I’m contributing to making this house less of an authoritarianism,” you scoffed and pulled open your purse, searching for your wallet. 

Your dad turned around and saw what you were doing, and let out a chuckle, “You can’t pay me re—“ 

You slammed $300 cash onto the coffee table that laid between the two of you, “I know you pay two thousand for the mortgage. Consider that half of my third. I’ll have the rest to you tomorrow morning if that's the game you want to play.” 

He didn’t say anything.

Truthfully he didn’t think your job paid you that well, enough that you could do that.

He stood there, too stunned to speak, but then looked at you and swallowed, “Just because you pay me doesn’t mean I want that boy over here.” 

Something in you broke. Nothing would be good enough.

All you could feel was hopelessness at this moment.

The little girl in you started to fracture. 

The little girl whose mom died when she was just barely becoming herself.

The little girl who’s daddy resented her and her siblings for being alive afterwards.

The little girl who was forced to grow up before her mom was even in the ground.

The little girl who lost her dad the second her mom took her last breath. 

You looked at him and tilted your head, eyes glossy, “What happened to you?” 

His eyebrow raised and he scoffed, “What? Nothing happened to me — what do you mean?” he asked, feeling cornered.

Your eyes went sad, and the little girl that you hid and protected from so much, she came to the surface.

“You became so cold when Mom died. You just… you’re not the dad that used to go horseback ridin' with me, that made heart-shaped pancakes for me every Sunday morning, the dad that would have marched to Nashville to beat my cheating fiancé — instead of blaming me… I..." Your lip quivered, so you stepped back and clenched your jaw to suppress the emotion. 

You watched him stiffen up as well and turn away, staying quiet. 

You nodded and tutted, this was nothing new. He was never going to admit he's in the wrong.

“Whatever… doesn’t matter. I’m going to bed.” You turned around and knocked on the door frame. “Night.” 

He didn’t respond or say another word; he just stood there, stuck in his own guilt. 

You went up the stairs. Tears fell the moment you turned your back away from him. 

The moment you were in the sanctuary of your room and closed your door, you didn’t bother to undress. Not when you were wrapped in the last piece of Joel you could have to yourself. 

You curled up into your bed, sleeves close to your face, softly breathing in the remnants of his cologne stuck in the fabric. Breathing it in deeply as it lulled you to sleep. 

Saturday night 

The bar was already alive when you both walked in — boots thudding against the hardwood floor, twangy guitar riffs cutting through the air, and the smell of whiskey and barbecue thick in the room.

Joel picked you up from your sister’s place. 

Since that night, you and your dad continue to argue about Joel coming onto the property. So once Ev found out, she told you he could pick you up at hers until your dad woke up and smelled the roses.

When he asked, you just told Joel she helped you get ready, and with her little boy, it was just easier to go over to her house rather than her come to your dad's. 

You weren’t ready to let him in on that piece of information. That your dad loathed him for just being a Miller. That part wasn’t fair for him to know, at least not now — not when things were so good. 

Joel’s hand stayed at the small of your back, warm and steady as he guided you past the crowd. You liked the way it felt — not possessive, just connected. Like he wanted you close, and you wanted to be kept there.

His brother, Tommy, was already waiting by the bar, leaning casually against the counter, cowboy hat tipped back and grinning, seeing his brother with you.

Tommy was known back in high school to be the troublemaker, the problem child. You couldn’t count the times you saw him in the principal's office for something stupid he’d done. However, he was the life of any party and one of the kindest souls you’ve ever met. All of the Miller’s were kind, which is why you didn’t know why your dad had such a stick up his ass about them. 

"You're late," he said.

"We’re fashionably late," Joel replied, sliding his arm around your waist as he introduced you to Tommy. You smiled and shook his hand, charmed by the easy banter between the brothers.

“It’s good to see you back in town, Whitaker…” Tommy winked. 

You smiled softly and nodded. “It’s good to be back, Miller.” You winked back. 

He laughed heartily and looked at Joel, “She’s a lot less shy than the old days…” He looked at you, grinning. “You’re a lot less shy, darlin’…”

You chuckled softly and shrugged, “A lot can change in a couple of years." You smirked. "You still the troublemaker?”

He grinned and bit his lip. “Always.” 

Joel rolled his eyes and tsked. “That you are, little brother.” 

Tommy chuckled and lightly tapped Joel’s shoulder, “Ya’ll want a drink? First rounds on me!” 

Joel looked down at you, his thumb lightly rubbing circles into your waist, “What’s your drink of choice?” 

You looked at Joel for a moment and smiled, then looked at Tommy and nodded, “Surprise me?”

Tommy clicked his tongue and nodded then knocked his hand against the bar, “You got it!” He then turned to the bartender and ordered drinks for the three of you. 

Your phone buzzed, a familiar area code from Nashville popping up, making you think it was for work.

You turned back to Joel and put your hand on his chest before leaning up and kissing his cheek, “I’ll be right back, I’m going to use the powder room quick.” 

He put his hand over yours and kissed your forehead before telling you that he and Tommy would wait here for you to get back before finding a table. 

You quickly weaved through the buzzing crowd to the ladies' room and answered the phone, “Hello?” 

“Oh, so you’ll answer a random number but block mine?” Riley said, annoyed. 

Instantly, a wave of anger started to boil through your veins. “Riley, I said never to contact me again. What the hell do you possibly want?” 

The door swung open, and a couple of girls giggled as they came inside, country music briefly seeping through the room loudly. 

“Where the hell are you?” 

“That’s none of your business. I won’t ask again, Riley. Spit it out.” 

“You’re on a date, aren’t you?” he seethed. 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business. Now I’m hangin–” 

He cut you off. “Your dad called, he begged me to make it up to you.” he chuckled coldly. “He said you’ve been going out with one of the Miller’s… uhm, what's his name... Joel?” 

“My dad called you?” You scoffed and huffed.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” You muttered.

“Are you with him?” 

You chuckled at his continued disregard for your boundaries. “Riley, you aren’t my fiancée anymore. I don’t owe you any explanation for where I am or who I’m with. Stop calling.” You went to hang up the phone. 

He started to slur his words. “You’re fucking him aren’t you?” He taunted, and you could hear him take a swig of a drink, then mutter under his breath. “Fucking whore…” 

You paused and were momentarily speechless; every part of you felt like it would explode. Your temper with your dad had been simmering for the last few days, and now this? You were done. This was crossing the line. Calling your ex? Calling your cheating piece of shit ex and telling him personal and private information he has no right to know anymore? Fuck him. 

“I’m not the one who cheated and the one who’s drunk right now,” you said in a low warning tone. “You want to call me a whore? Go ahead. I’m the biggest whore – I’m the biggest whore for someone that has treated me better in a handful of dates than you ever did in in years!” 

You saw yourself in the mirror and shook your head; you were worth more than this.

“Call me again, Riley, and I’ll file harassment charges. Leave me alone.” Then you hung up the phone and exhaled angrily. 

You heard a voice from one of the stalls behind you, “You go, girl!” then a hiccup and giggle, followed by them vomiting into the toilet. 

You shook your head and let out a chuckle as you leaned against the sink. “You good in there?” 

“Peachy!” she coughed and vomited again. 

“Just too many shots, am I right?” another voice came from the same area. You assumed it was the two girls who came in earlier.

You muttered to yourself. “Such a fuckin’ idiot…” You looked down and then pulled your phone back up and blocked the number he’d called from.

You then pulled your texting thread with your dad open and angrily typed:

‘You had no right to call him. Don’t ever do that again. I'll won't be coming home for the time being. Don't call or text. You crossed a line.’ Sent. Power off. 

Your heart was hammering, fists clenched, body buzzing with the fury of betrayal.

He called your ex.

After everything you had just expressed to him? After you’d finally gotten the nerve to cut that part of your life off? After you told your family when Riley tried to reach out to each other them when you came home— not to reach out?

You breathe through your nose. Try to slow it down.

'Focus.'

The flickering fluorescent light overhead snaps once, then settles into a dull, sputtering buzz. It makes the already-yellowed tiles feel sickly, like you're standing inside a mouth that's never quite closed. Your reflection is a stranger: cheeks flushed, eyes wide and glassy. You look like you just ran five miles and lost every fight along the way. This is not how you wanted to start out tonight.

You close your eyes. You listen.

Beyond the door, the bar hums with life—guitars twang, boots stomp, someone yells something too joyful for how you feel. The girl in the stall gags to vomit again. The faucet drips, steady and maddening, like a ticking clock on a bomb you can't defuse.

You exhale shakily. The air smells of industrial cleaner, barely masking layers of sweat, spilled beer, and old cigarette smoke. Your own perfume has faded, now just a ghost clinging to the collar of your denim jacket. You can still taste the whiskey shot you took before leaving to ease your nerves —bitter, unearned, curling at the back of your throat like regret.

‘Focus on what you can feel…’ you remember reading in some self-help magazine you read at the airport. 

The sink is cold beneath your hands. ‘There we go. Focus on that.’

You spread your fingers, flatten your palms. 

‘Breathe in again, slower this time…’

The tile wall beside you is rough when you lean against it, forehead resting on cool ceramic. 

You're sweating, and not just from the heat of the room. The anger—God, it’s thick in your blood, a hot, humming thing with nowhere to go.

But underneath it… you feel the ache. That gut-deep twist of being let down, again, by someone who should have been in your corner. Should have been in your corner all along. 

‘Focus on something positive...’  you quickly pivoted, needing to get away from the anger.

You picture Joel’s face. 

The way he looked at you when he helped you out of the truck earlier, warm and kind. 

‘Think about how he gently placed his hand on your back when you walked into the bar. The way he held your side – to make you feel safe.’ 

You thought of Tommy’s laugh echoing as you teased each other. 

‘You’re supposed to be out there with them, not unraveling in here.’

That was enough. The was the swift kick you needed.

You open your eyes and straighten up, whispering to yourself. “Let’s go have a good night.” 

You check your reflection. Still flushed, but steadier now. You take one last breath—long, deliberate. You tuck your phone into your purse like you’re sealing something away.

Then you push open the bathroom door, head high, and step back into the bar. 

The air out in the bar hits you like a wall—loud, warm, alive.

Music slides across the room in twangy waves, someone’s boot heel scrapes hard against the wooden floor, and laughter peals like wind chimes from the far end of the bar.

You come to the end of the hall and look out to find where you needed to go to regroup with Tommy and Joel.

You spot Joel near the bar, just where he said he’d be, leaning back against it, sipping on a pint of beer. He’s laughing at something Tommy just said, his head tipped back, that boyish grin lighting up his face in a way that makes your stomach twist—but for a good reason, this time.

When his eyes find you, you softly smile, but it wasn’t quick enough – he saw the shift.

He straightens up, shoulders tightening like he’s bracing for a storm. His grin softens into something smaller, more gentle. He sets the beer down on the bar and, without a word to Tommy, starts to walk toward you, weaving through the crowd like he doesn’t even see them.

“Hey,” he says, voice low, just for you. His eyes search your face, not in a prying way—but like he’s trying to read a weather report. “Everything alright?”

You nod. Too fast. 

He doesn’t push, but he doesn’t look away either. One hand comes up to rest lightly on your arm, thumb brushing over your jacket sleeve. That one little touch steadies you more than you want to admit.

“Bathroom alright?” he adds, a little dry, a little teasing. It’s an out. He’s offering it gently, like he’s done this before. 

You give him a small chuckle, trying to loosen up. “Yeah. Just needed to take a quick call.”

He nods like he believes you, but you can tell he doesn’t—not fully. He leans in, lowering his voice. “Come on, I got you somethin’ to eat…” then kissed your cheek softly and took your hand in his. 

You follow him back to the table, heart still tight—but lighter now. The weight’s still there, but you’re not carrying it alone.

After a couple of drinks and a burger that you couldn’t put down, the band kicked up again — something fast and familiar. Couples gathered on the dance floor, boots scuffing and skirts twirling. 

Joel leaned in as he sat beside you in the booth, his arm behind you as the two of you watched the stage from as you sat and ate — his mouth near your ear softly asks.

“You ready to dance, darlin’?”

You giggled, nerves now buzzing from the alcohol and entertainment, but nodded. “Show me your moves, cowboy.”

He grinned and slid out from the booth before he took your hand, confidently leading you into the fray. 

The band transitioned into a new song, a line dance. You followed his lead, learning the steps quickly before giggling and joining in with the group as they danced to 'Boot Scoot Boogie'.

After another upbeat tune played, but this time he took your hand and pulled you into him.

One hand on your waist, the other strong and sure in yours, guiding you across the floor in smooth, spinning steps that made you laugh and cling to him harder every time he twirled you around.

You felt alive with him. Fuck, was this what you were missing out on -for all those years? 

He dipped you once — just enough to make you squeal — and when he brought you back up, your faces were so close your noses touched. Your breath caught, and you giggled.

“How’d you learn to dance like this?” You murmured, breathless.

He smirked. “My dad dances with my mom every night in the kitchen. Picked up a few moves.”

You chuckled and brought your hand up to his cheek as the two of you danced, and your eyes went softer. “That’s really sweet.” You lightly stroked his cheek as he held you close and swayed with you. “Your dad seems like a sweet guy – no wonder you’re the way you are. He raised a good man.” you said warmly.

It warmed his heart to hear your high praise - for thinking he was a good man. That’s all he wanted to be: a good, loyal, loving man. 

He hummed, then leaned in and kissed your lips softly once, just long enough to make you melt further into each other.

He pulled back slowly, nudging your nose gently. “Tell you what, we’ll do the same.” He rubbed small circles into your waist as he held you. 

Your smile widened. “Dance every night in the kitchen together?” 

He lightly chuckled, it vibrating the space between you both. “We can do it whenever, but every night sounds good to me…” 

You had no words so you just nodded then leaned back in and captured his lips, kissing him slowly but deeply as the two of you continued to sway to the music as it began to slow down. 

—

After a few slow dances the music sped up again and the two of you danced through two more songs, sweat starting to bead at your temples, your heart pounding not just from the movement but from the way he kept looking at you — like you were the only thing in the room worth seeing.

Eventually, the two of you made your way back toward the bar for drinks. Joel leaned over to order while you stood just behind him, catching your breath and sipping on some water.

That’s when it happened.

A man — older, already red in the face from one too many beers — walked past, slowed, and then, without warning, reached out and slapped your ass. Hard.

“Damn, girl,” he slurred, grin wide and gross. “Bet you ride better than a buckin’ bronco.”

You flinched, body going rigid, heart slamming into your throat. For a second, you couldn’t even move. Just froze — shocked, humiliated.

But Joel moved fast.

Before the man could take another step, Joel spun around and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, yanking him back so hard his beer sloshed onto the floor.

“Touch her again,” Joel said, low and lethal, “and you’ll be drinkin’ through a straw for the rest of your goddamn life.”

The guy laughed — nervous, trying to play it off — but Joel didn’t flinch. Didn’t loosen his grip. His jaw was clenched, eyes dark and cold. Tommy appeared beside them in a heartbeat, calm but firm, stepping in to separate them just enough.

The man backed off quickly, muttering something under his breath before disappearing into the crowd, clearly more bark than bite.

Joel turned to you immediately, his hand soft now, cupping your cheek, eyes searching yours. “You okay?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Just… surprised, sorry.” You quickly tried to calm yourself.

“Hey, no apologies. You didn’t deserve that.” His thumb brushed your cheekbone. “No one touches you like that. Not while I’m around.”

Your heart cracked open a little more in that moment — not because he defended you, but because of the way he did it. Without ego. Without anger aimed at you. Just clear, focused protection. Like your safety was the only thing that mattered.

He leaned in and kissed your forehead, slow and grounding.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked, voice low.

You paused… then shook your head. “No. I want to dance some more...”

Joel blinked — surprised — then grinned.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he tucked your hair back gently. 

You smiled, slipping your hand into his. “Good. You better keep up.”

And when you both stepped back onto the dance floor, his arm wrapped tighter around your waist — not to claim you… but to let the whole damn room know:

You were his.

And he wasn’t going anywhere.

After a few more dances, Tommy came onto the dance floor and convinced you both to join him at the pool table for a game.

Once you got there, you both realized he was trying to rob some poor college kids who had too much ego, a little too much to drink, and made the mistake of challenging him. 

You stood in front of Joel with a cue in hand, smiling as you watched Tommy line up the first shot. You leaned against him and nodded at the table, “How good is Tommy?” 

He leaned his chin against your shoulder and put his hand on your waist. "It depends how drunk he is…” he joked. 

You chuckled and watched Tommy hit two solid colored balls into the pockets, then attempt to hit another in, but failed. 

He didn’t care; he had this in the bag with or without you and Joel.

He looked over and grinned at the group of kids, “You’re up…” 

One of the three stepped up and attempted to get one of the striped balls into a pocket. It became apparent he had no idea what he was doing as he knocked the ball against the wall and into one of your balls, making your next shot easy. 

Tommy nudged you with his elbow and smiled, “You’re up, sweet thing.” 

You stepped forward and looked at all your options. Did you want to take the easy play or make it more of a challenge? You walked around the table and leaned forward, calculating the angle of a possible play. 

As you leaned forward, your cleavage became quite visible, and all three college boys grinned and knocked elbows with each other as they gawked. 

Joel stiffened up and clenched the cue in his hand, softly clearing his throat towards them.

Was he becoming jealous, territorial, possessive, protective? Either way, when you saw it from the corner of your eye, you decided to have a little fun – tease him a little. 

You lined up your cue and tossed your hair to one side before your eyes trailed up to the group of boys. They all turned red and nervously swallowed. You winked before you pulled your cue back and then quickly forward, knocking a ball into a pocket, not breaking eye contact. 

You stood straight and then looked at Tommy and Joel, “I get another turn, right?” You acted like you didn’t know how to play or what you were doing. 

Joel saw the glint in your eye, the mischievous grin you were trying to hide. He bit his lip and nodded as Tommy chuckled and answered, not picking up on what you were laying down. 

“Yeah, you get another chance, sweetheart.” Tommy nodded toward the table.  

He leaned back and said lowly to Joel, “Beginner's luck if I’ve ever seen it…” 

Joel smirked as he watched you, softly humming in agreement. 

You nodded and rounded the table to make your next play. 

The part of the table the college boys were standing by was between a wall; it was a tight squeeze to get by. 

You smiled innocently as you approached them, “Excuse me fellas…” then you squeezed past them, sliding your ass against their crotches. 

Joel looked down and shook his head, grinning at your antics. 

All he could think about was how he would make you pay for that later in his truck. 

How sweet you’d taste on his tongue, how beautiful you’d look in his lap. 

You bent over in front of the boys, your already short dress, riding up a little more with how you angled yourself. “Sorry ‘bout the tight squeeze, I’ll make this quick…” You said purposely, breathlessly. 

You lined up your cue and pulled it back and forward quickly, knocking two more balls into two different pockets. 

“Holy shit…” Tommy muttered under his breath. 

The other group didn’t even register your play as they all three were drooling at your ass.

You stayed where you were, and your eyes trailed up to Tommy and Joel, “Shoot, does that mean I have to go again?” 

Tommy grinned and raised his eyebrows, “God damn, you sure you’ve never played before darlin’?” 

You straightened up and crossed your heart with your finger, “I swear! I must be lucky or somethin’…” you shrugged. 

Tommy chuckled and nodded, “You play ‘til you miss a pocket…” he clicked his tongue, “Keep playin’ like that though... win us some cash.” He smirked at the boys. 

You leaned back to aim and decided it was someone else's turn. With that, you missed the pocket and returned to stand in front of Joel.

His hand immediately wrapped firmly around your waist, tugging you flush against his chest before he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“You keep teasin’ me like that, darlin’, and I’m gonna have to show you what happens to naughty girls.”

His voice is rough, low enough that only you can hear it, like gravel and heat all wrapped in honey. His fingers flex against your hip like he’s already thinking about how to follow through.

You feel the flush crawl up your neck, and you don’t dare turn to look at him—you know what you’ll find in his eyes, which will only lead you to prematurely want to leave.

Tommy stood a few feet from you, watching one of the other kids line up, completely oblivious. The other two college kids are still too stunned to notice.

Joel’s hand doesn’t move, just rests there, possessive and warm.

“Thought you were bein’ real cute out there,” he murmurs, dragging the words out like he wants them to linger. “Makin’ eyes at those boys, shakin’ that little dress in front of ‘em. Thinkin’ I wouldn’t notice.”

You bite your lip and try to play coy, "I don't know what you mean..."

He chuckles, deep in his chest—a sound that feels like it coils right through you.

“Oh, I think you do. And when I get you in that truck tonight…?” He exhales a quiet, dangerous laugh. “You’re gonna wish you hadn’t played so damn innocent.”

Your breath catches, and you immediately feel yourself becoming aroused between your legs.

And then—just like nothing happened—he pulls back a little, gives your waist a reassuring squeeze, before he moves out from behind you as his turn is up.

But the look in his eyes when he glances back at you before taking his shot?

That says everything.

He ends up knocking the last two balls into the separate pockets before finishing the game by knocking the 8 ball into a pocket. 

Tommy pumped his fist and cheered, “Boo-yah baby!” 

Joel chuckled at his brother's excitement, but then, when he found you, your eyes drinking him in, the look of lust in your eyes, his gaze darkened. 

He set the cue onto the pool table before striding over and telling Tommy that the two of you were leaving, before he came over and grabbed your hand. The two of you eagerly weave your way out of the bar.

On the way back to the truck, the walk is quiet, just the two of you walking to the back of the parking lot where he’d parked. 

Joel's hand hovers at your back but never lands. You want him to do something—say something—but he stays maddeningly calm, jaw tight, like he’s holding something in. Something that’s just for later.

He opens the passenger door for you like a gentleman. The second it clicks shut behind you, you feel the air shift.

You barely get your seatbelt pulled over your chest before his hand slides behind your neck and pulls you in, your hand letting the strap go as his mouth crashes onto yours—hot, demanding, hungry. There's no hesitation now. None.

"You think I didn’t notice what you were doin’ in there?” he growls between kisses. “Bendin’ over in that tiny little dress… throwin’ winks at boys who couldn’t even look you in the eye…”

You whimper softly against his mouth, breath catching as his other hand slides up your thigh, slow and rough. The console digs into your side, but you don’t care. All you feel is him—everywhere, all at once.

"You’ve got no idea what you just earned yourself, querida."

He pulls you over the console like it’s nothing. 

The moment you’re in his lap, he leans you back against the steering wheel, the horn blaring briefly before he growls and shifts you to straddle him properly. The whole truck rocks under the movement.

You rock your hips instinctively, and his groan vibrates against your mouth.

Your hands tangle in his shirt, dragging him closer as his lips trail down your throat, teeth grazing your skin.

“You made a show of yourself,” he growls into your neck. “You think I’m just gonna let that slide?”

“No,” you whisper.

His hand slides up your thigh—under your dress now, finding the edge of your panties and tugging them down so roughly and fast it makes your breath catch.

He grins when he sees how soaked they are. “Damn, baby. This all for me?”

You nod, helpless, blushing, seeing how soaked they were. 

He bit his lip and hung them around his clutch before cupping your cheek and leaning back in to kiss your lips. 

You both pause and hover over each others lips when there’s a knock on the fogged window followed by the familiar, annoying, taunting voice of no one other than Will fucking Montgomery.

“Knock knock!” he chuckled. “Como dices: Public indecency?” he said mockingly.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

no pressure taglist: @thebeautytoyourbeat, @sarahhxx03, @blahkateisdone, @sunnytuliptime, @pedroscurls, @docharleythegeekqueen @pedritosgirl2000 @fancyyoouu @greendudenumber7, @queenofdisaster12 @axshadows @mystickittytaco @yxtkiwiyxt @alltheirdamn @punkshort @stylesispunk @iheartoldermem @mermaidgirl30 @mountainsandmayhem @sp00kymulderr @brittmb115 @poor-unfortunate-soul9927 @spacelatinos4life @pedge-page @pedropascalfab @readingiskeepingmegoing @sincerelywithheartt @youusunshineyoutemptress @lilasskicker-23 @melsuns00hine @wencontre @pedrofan @suzysface @orcasoul @misstokyo7love @bitchyfestnight @galotti7 @locaparapedrito @harrysrosetatto @bluenightmarepost @mukeovernetflix @pascal-mynightlyobsession @maryfanson @pasc4lfuzz

[magicalgirlmindcrank]

Reading that interaction between Ash and Princess was very *chefs kiss*. Like hey Princess glad you've had a lot of fun figuring your shit out, don't forget you were a career murderer and there's a whole world you were a part of prior to your not-domestication™.

Looking forward to The Big One, and merr crimbus!

It was a fun little situation where no one walked away happy. Princess had to directly face some who suffered from her actions, Ash got closure but now has to actually heal, and Camila- well her thing is upcoming still~

We've been working pretty hard on the next chapter! its currently at 6350 words, and we're almost to actual start of the festival. Camila's really laying it on thick today~ Hoping to get out by the 4th, but we'll see. It is the most critical chapter so if it takes a full month or more, we'll happily give it that time.

[milfsloverblog]

Secret Benefits (part 6)

Sugar mommy!Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: Here it is, after (quite) a long wait. Thank you for your patience! Oh, I actually shed a couple of tears writing this chapter, just warning you guys! I hope you’ll enjoy reading this <3

You couldn’t believe your eyes. So much in fact that you had to rub them to make sure you were seeing straight. Larissa Weems was sitting at your kitchen table.

“Just a second,” you muttered.

You walked to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, not even bothering to use a glass and choosing instead to drink straight from it. You couldn’t remember being that thirsty ever before and the water didn’t seem to help at all.

“I guess we need to talk.” You said as you placed the bottle back inside the fridge.

“Yes, we do. But I don’t think you’re in a fit state to have a serious conversation right now. How’s your head?”

“Hmpf-“ you groaned and looked down, noticing that you were still wearing your outfit from the previous night. You reeked. A nauseating mix of sweat and alcohol.

Larissa noticed the way you stared at your dress and pushed a small sympathetic smile.

“Would you like to take a shower?” She offered.

“I think so, but I’m not sure I’ll have the strength for it.”

“Let me help.” She wasn’t offering this time.

Letting Larissa see you naked would have been a highly arousing thought a few weeks before, but not anymore. Not after what you had done to her.

You closed your eyes as she walked with you to the bathroom, listening to the muffled sounds of her stocking-clad feet against the wooden floor.

“Let me-“ Larissa said when you struggled to reach for the zipper at the back of your dress.

She carefully unzipped it and you heard her breath hitch in her throat.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Larissa quickly answered.

A bitter iron taste filled her mouth as she bit down on her tongue at the sight of the bruises on your spine. She would make that man pay. She didn’t know how yet, but she would.

She helped you step out of the dress that was pooling at your feet before her hands moved to unclasp your bra until she suddenly stopped herself.

“Are you alright with me removing your underwear?” She asked.

You stayed quiet for a few seconds. She was asking for your consent. You had treated her like shit and still, she was showing you sympathy.

“Yes.”

Larissa gave a small nod and unclasped your bra before removing your panties, making a point of keeping her eyes off your body as she did so.

“There,” she said, gesturing towards the shower.

She turned the water on and made sure it was at a nice temperature before letting you in.

You sighed with relief as you stepped under the warm water jet, the gentle pressure massaging your back.

“Should we start with your hair?” Larissa offered, to which you answered with a nod.

Having her hands in your hair would feel less awkward than on your body to start with.

She rolled up her sleeves and poured some shampoo in her hands, waiting for you to turn around before applying it to your hair. She was gentle with her movements, her fingertips massaging your scalp and making sure to thoroughly wash your hair.

You were lost in your thoughts when Larissa suddenly started humming a song, a soft melody that immediately made a lump grow in your throat. You felt like a child. For a moment you were sent back to your childhood home, sitting in the tub as a little girl as your mother bathed you. It must have been a Sunday, you could still smell the cake that was baking in the oven.

You were brought back to reality by Larissa carefully spinning you around.

“I’ll wash your body now if that’s alright.” She waited until you gave another nod before starting to wash your shoulders. You kept your eyes closed as she carefully moved down your body and Larissa wished she could have done the same. She felt like she was intruding, only adding more weight to what had happened to you the previous night.

You were grateful for the water that was falling down your face for it hid the silent tears that you had been shedding for a couple of minutes.

Your body suddenly twitched as you tried to hold back a sob, making Larissa look up at your face. She stood up from the kneeling position she had taken to wash your legs and gently cupped your cheek.

“Sweetling, are you alright?” She asked.

You only gave a nod as an answer, your throat too tight to say anything.

“Look at me,” she said.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes only to meet Larissa’s worried ones.

She stepped back as soon as she noticed that you were crying, the warmth of her hand leaving your cheek. Larissa immediately thought that she had hurt you somehow and you watched as her mouth fell open as she searched for a way to apologise.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“What?” She frowned.

“I said-“ You took a deep shaky breath, feeling more tears threatening to spill. “I am so, so sorry Larissa.” You managed to say before bursting into tears and falling to your knees.

Larissa stayed still for a moment, watching your body jolt as you sobbed loudly.

“Oh, sweetling…” She knelt and gently placed her hand on your shoulder.

“N-no!” You hiccuped looking at Larissa. You hid your face in your hands and tried your best to calm your breathing down, Larissa’s thumb rubbing soothing circles on your arm.

“Why are you here?” You eventually managed to say after a few minutes. You didn’t give her any time to answer before you went on. “After what I did to you, why the fuck are you here? Being nice to me and taking care of me when you should be gloating about me getting what I deserve.”

“You did not deserve that!” Larissa said severely, cupping your cheek so you’d look at her. She looked into your eyes for a moment before looking down at her lap. “You don’t wish any ill will on those you love, no matter how badly they hurt you.” She said barely audibly.

Love.

There. She had said it.

Love.

The lump in your throat only grew bigger as you watched her blue eyes get glassy.

“I’m so sorry,” you said again. “If I had known-“You shook your head and burst into tears again, feeling both helpless and hopeless.

“I know.” Larissa nodded and took a deep breath. You don’t wish any ill will on those you love. She carefully wrapped her arms around your body and pulled you close, letting your wet skin and hair soak through the fabric of her dress.

You don’t know how long you stayed there, the both of you kneeling on the bathroom floor until you started shivering and Larissa decided to wrap you in a towel. She picked a pair of pyjamas from your wardrobe and helped you put them on before taking you back to the living room.

“I’ll make you a cup of tea, it might help.” Larissa said as you lay back down on the couch.

“That’s what he said.” You answered after a while, remembering some bits of your night.

“He?”

“The man,” you groaned softly. “The one who saved me… He reminded me of you.”

“Did he?” Larissa asked as she walked back to the couch only to find you hiding under a cushion.

She placed the cup on your coffee table and carefully lifted your head to let it rest on her lap while her fingers brushed through your hair.

“Get some more sleep, you need it.”

“Will you be there when I wake up?”

There was a second of silence before Larissa answered.

“You know I will.”

————————————————————————-

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[katiascraft]

- chapter six - and there was happiness  because of you too, right?

✐ᝰ "You knew all too well i was right where you left me" | CL16 ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊

parings: retired!charles leclerc x writer!ex!reader

summary: carlos confronted y/n in front of charles in the worst way possible. but fortunately (or unfortunately) he made what needed to be done to put the two together "by (twisted) fate".

series masterlist

BLOG MASTERLIST

Charles was scared and worried when he saw your light turning on by the minute. His eyes wanting to leave his face when he saw you in your marvel pajamas again. Your hair was a mess and your face had the darkest circles under your eyes. Your face puffy as if you were crying or you did before you went to sleep and then they woke you up. He felt as guilty as when he realized he left the love of his life stuck in that fucking restaurant you both loved so much. 

His heart was racing in a way he hadn’t felt for so long. He got scared it was about to have a panic attack in front of your house. In front of you, showing how weak he still is for you but like in a very twisted way. Carlos’ voice got him out of his mind abruptly. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you bitch? Huh? Stop torturing my friend!” Carlos said aggressively to you when you opened the front door of your white and pastel green beach house you owned. 

If you thought your day couldn’t get worse, then you were oh so wrong. 

There he was. Standing and cheeks red. His face showed panic. You could feel he was scared by the way his eyes went bigger listening to what his friends had said. Carlos’ face was a work of art. Rage all over his face. His body language was violent. He hated you so much, it was visible. Palpable. Evident. Heartbreaking too. 

Your whole face just hurt. Tears irritated your skin so you looked red. And you were sure you looked terrible. Whole face was swollen and puffy. You felt more depressed in that instant. There so vulnerable in front of two men. And one of them being the love of your life. Or… your past love of your life? You weren’t sure at all after last weekend where you touched and have seen franco in a different light. Your heart still heavy about it and how you treated him. You hated yourself so much. You just couldn’t believe you could make yourself be even more miserable. 

 But you had to stand up for yourself because you were also confused by what Carlos just said. 

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about carlos. And i don’t know what charles told you but we didn’t even talk… and i don't even know why the hell i'm giving you an explanation you don't deserve” frustration was visible in the way you voice sounds deeper than normal. Different from what he heard at the ice cream shop and the way you talked to him. And also your smile was gone. Like every time he appears in your life. Because he only brings you pain. And nightmares. Or at least that’s what he thought. 

“Um, y/n I'm really sorry, really” Charles said, panicked and then turned over to Carlos “c’mon mate, let’s go. Don’t do this. There’s no need, you know?” He grabbed carlos’ wrist and pulled him a bit away. But Carlos was looking straight at you. Hate was converting him into the devil. 

“Don’t play the fool, darling. You know what I'm talking about. You love to make him feel miserable by the mistake he committed! You’re evil! Twisted! Stay away from him!” Carlos was out of control. Charles shook his head not knowing what to do. He looked at you ashamed that he even blushed. Seeing him like that broke your heart. You swallowed hard and just so fed up with everything and anything related to Charles and the bagage of your story, you closed the door on their faces, determined to go to bed and cry. You closed your eyes for a second because your head was pounding. All you could see were his eyes.

But you just couldn’t be like that for long because Carlos started knocking on your door and telling you to open the door right away. You could hear Charles telling him to calm down desperately and telling him to go home. But Carlos was so drunk he couldn’t even think straight. You could hear it in his voice. You sighed not knowing what to do. 

But then silence took all over the place like they were never there. And that’s when after a few seconds you hear deep breathing.

“Just please Carlos, let’s go home” charles’ voice was broken and after hearing him talk you could hear him sobbing. Carlos was silent. Your heart started racing. 

It didn’t feel right  so you opened the door. 

They looked at you. Charles was a wreck. Carlos seemed calmed but worried. He was holding charles’ arm. 

“I’m sorry mate” Carlos finally said.

“Charles, you wanna come in? For a glass of water” you finally spoke out loud without thinking. Like you kinda surprised yourself. Charles looked up at you a bit confused but then he nodded. You gave him a soft smile. And awkward too. 

This whole situation was weird. 

Carlos was about to say something but you interrupted him “you’re not invited. Sorry not sorry” you told him and snapped the door on his face. Asshole. He didn’t even know you and that’s his presentation card? But he knew my name. That must be charles’ work. This is insane though. You turned away from the door to find Charles awkwardly standing there in the middle of your living room waiting for instructions or permission. 

“Sorry” you said softly but he shook his head gently. 

“No problem, it’s okay. He sometimes is an asshole” he explained more calmly than a few seconds ago. 

“Feel at home” you finally said after a few seconds of just looking at each other. It felt strange yet nice to have him in your place. “Take a seat i’ll go for a glass of water” you said to go running to the kitchen to say so. 

Charles looked around. There were a lot of frames of your nephews almost everywhere. He sat on your couch. It was really comfy and soft. Your perfume was everywhere and it was the same perfume you used back in the day. For a moment he felt safe and that weirded himself out a bit. He is supposed to hate you, right? He tried to wipe his face dry. He felt ridiculous there in his ex’ house again after so many years. He knew all too well he shouldn’t be here. But he wanted to. 

He heard how you took a glass from the counter and poured water straight into it from the sink. He played with his fingers nervously waiting for you to come back. He was trying to think straight because he was really drunk as well. Although he was hoping you didn’t notice, it was probably obvious. 

“Here you are,” you said softly, handing him the glass that he took gently. A tiny smile appeared on his face. 

“Thank you, y/n. And I'm sorry again for what Carlos did. I really don’t know why he did that” he tried to explain nervously. You shook your head with a half smile. 

“It’s okay. To be honest, he's an asshole but I am as well. I would have understood if you thought that about me too. So it’s okay. No bad blood. I get you were partying” he watched your lips while you were talking. They were dry and pale. Then he looked at your eyes. “And, sorry for calling the cops i was having a really shitty day to be honest and i needed to sleep”

“I’m sorry, i can go” he was about to stand up in a rush but you took his arm softly not letting him stand up. 

“Stay. it’s fine” he looked at you and sat down in slow motion almost.

·”you’re apartment it’s really nice” he didn’t know what to say. You gave him a real smile now. One he thought he was daydreaming of how beautiful it looked by the warm lightbulb that was involving you two in that living room. 

“Thank you. It took me a few years to figure it out but now I'm really happy with it” you explained and he blushed.  

“It really represents you… I think” he thought this could be taken as disrespectful because he didn’t know you in the current. But he went with it anyway. He spoke before even thinking about it. So many years of pe training yet with you apparently doesn't work. 

“Yeah… I guess” you looked away just trying to think what to say or what to do. 

“I read your book” what he said came out of nowhere and it felt like an ice bucket challenge. You looked straight at him. Not knowing if it was good or bad or why he even mentioned it. “I loved it to be honest. I didn’t know you liked writing but I wasn’t surprised it was so well delivered because you were always good with words and feelings. You’re so talented” he expressed his hands shaking a little for some reason. 

“Thank you” you said through a dry laugh. “Guess I’m not really good with words really, like in real life. And they were never really useful either nor that they were important” you shrugged. 

“They did matter and they do matter i'm sure” he intervened.

“Did they?” You didn’t want to be a snake but you were still hurt and you hated still being hurt because it was ten fucking years ago yet he is still here and now it’s not only on your mind but in your stupid couch as well. 

He adjusted himself on the couch, nervous and uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. 

“I regret it,” he said after a long silence. “I fucking regret taking that decision and leaving you. I don’t even know why I thought at that moment that was the best but I did and I can’t change it but I wish I could. and I know now it’s like a joke that I'm telling you this and I'm the same man that left you there alone and broken. But I can’t stop thinking about you. What you wrote in that book was so beautiful and devastating I hate myself that I put you through all of that. That I hurt you so much that you had to write that. You were important. You mattered to me. But I was stupid. And I’m still am for feeling stuck in that fucking restaurant. I looked for you. Since I saw you that day I looked for you the following days at the coffee shop. I went there and read your book. I wanted to see you again and then I saw you at the ice cream shop. Like fate it’s cruel and twisted. I thought those kids were your children. And I thought about all of these dreams I have mostly every night where we are happily ever after and I wanted to die. I really did. Because I committed the greatest mistake of my life. Losing the only girl who saw me for me and made me feel all those things I never felt again. Everything was just so empty and blue-“ he had to stop when he saw you crying. 

“Stop Charles, please. You can’t come and tell me all of this. Like it is nothing like it can be fixed because it can’t be. You broke me in so many ways you can’t say all that shit, please. You don’t mean it” you just couldn’t keep on listening to him. His words cut through you like daggers. It was painful and unbearable. 

“Nono, I do mean it. I really do, y/n. And I know and I get it - I don’t deserve your apology and I know like saying sorry won’t fix anything I know it won’t but I feel all of these things I need to tell you. I've watched you from Carlos’ house and -“ 

“And are you a creep as well?!” 

“Nono, y/n, please. No, I am not a creep. I just - I didn’t know you were carlos’ neighbor. But he wanted you, that he didn’t know it was you either, to meet our friend Lando and you were there writing in your balcony and my world just went upside down from there. Out of nowhere you started to be everywhere and… and I don’t know what that means but I’m like… I really want it to mean something”

You looked at him not believing your eyes or your ears. You just stood up confused and tried to wipe your face and get yourself together. “You don’t mean that Charles, you don't. Please, just, don’t play with me like this” you were almost begging your drunk ex and you felt pathetic. He stayed silent just watching you. 

“Please, y/n… can we try to be friends at least?” He said with a shaky voice almost in a whisper. He was about to cry as well. You just couldn’t deal with any of this no more. Your brain was rotting. You felt like you were about to die. 

“I can’t do this right now Charles. Just… rest till your head is clear again. There is the guest room, use it as your own. There are pijamada and everything. I need to sleep. Goodnight” you just run up your stairs leaving him behind like some funny paradox. You just throw yourself into your bed not wanting to think or feel anything probably forever but at least till the next day. 

Charles was left with his heart on his hand and his words on the top of his tongue. He watched you while you headed up stairs and disappeared. He was left alone in your empty and unbearably silent living room. He then looked at the door you indicated was the guest room. He took a really deep breath. Was he about to sleep at your place? Funny, huh? He felt stupid. What was he thinking? 

Finally with no other remedy, he got into the guest room. It was beautifully decorated with a lot of paintings. He looked at them closely to see that it was your signature at the bottom of each of them. You painted them. You painted flowers and landscapes. The Mónaco view. The beach. Autumn. All of your favorite things he thought. They were beautiful. Then he turned to the bed, it spooked really comfy. But first he needed clothes so he walked to the closet and when he opened it, there were as you said a lot of pijamada in different sizes. It was a bit weird but maybe you liked to be ready and prepared for anything that happened unexpectedly. Like your ex sleeping here. Totally normal. He laughed to himself a bit. He was sure he was going mad. He finally got changed in the guest’s bathroom and laid in bed. Even the ceiling was judging him. He didn’t feel okay with this but his blind needed to rest so he fell asleep almost immediately. 

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

‘maybe the invisible string does exist and maybe that’s why he is back at my house snoring loudly in the guest room’

You sighed when you finished writing in your journal like every morning. You were fried. You couldn’t sleep that much because memories of what you and Charles used to torment you all night. But at least two hours are two hours of sleep. You had a few meetings today so you hoped Charles woke up in at most an hour. You are drinking water on your couch, not hungry at all. But you obliged yourself to prepare breakfast for Charles. 

You decided to prepare waffles with berries and blueberries, and a latte. You guessed it was still Charles' favorite type of coffee to drink in the morning. And you hated yourself for remembering that too. For remembering all too well. 

“Morning” his deep voice echoed in the kitchen and you turned around to greet him.

“Morning, Charlie. I made waffles and latte, you want some? I bet you are hungry… and also I have aspirin if you are hungover” you said light and smiley. You didn’t want it to be weird even if you thought of it like it. 

“Wow, thanks. I’ll take everything” he said, showing his dimples. He was already wearing the clothes he wore yesterday. You handed him the aspirin and a glass of water and while he took it, you set his breakfast in front of him. He observed you. You looked beautiful even like this. He saw it was breakfast for just one person. “Aren’t you hungry?” He asked and you denied with your head. He sat in front of you in the aisle and started eating. “Thank you for letting me stay, the bed was more comfy that the one I use at Carlos’. It’s really nice of you all of this and again… i’m sorry but I hope we can talk about it someday if you want to” he said while enjoying what you cooked for him. You half smiled. 

“Yeah, it’s okay. Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow or when you’re able. I think it would be nice if we talk things through and make things clear” you agreed with him. After having the whole morning by yourself, you came to the conclusion that you need to talk about everything. You owe yourself that. The opportunity to clear your mind with him and finally move on. 

Right?

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

yourusername made a post

liked by nikbff , francolapinto , agosbff , charlesleclerc and other 765,435 users.

yourusername: just a bunch of meetings and watching hours of footage of castings for all too well the movie cast 🤓☝🏻who would you like to see?????

view all comments

agosbff: could you also be casted?

⤷ yourusername: I can’t even lie and you want me to ACT

⤷ francolapinto: stick to writing books ur good at it

⤷ yourusername: die 💋

⤷ francolapinto: but you admitted it! and we still need to talk

⤷ yourusername: we are on main 🙃

⤷ francolapinto: I KNOW 🥰

⤷ yourusername: talk to me in YOUR dreams BYE

⤷ agosbff: can you both talk already?

⤷ nikbff: THAT’s WHAT I SAID

⤷ francolapinto: NO🩷

⤷ user1963: TALK ABOUT WHAT?!?!

⤷ user23: is this a soft lunch?

⤷ user1: talk about when are you going to say ur dating??? That’s it?

⤷ user865: THEY ARE FRIENDS EVERYONE CALM DOWN

arthurleclerc: can I send my casting to play the main character’s brother? I think I can be good at it :)

⤷ jadedistinguinn: I wanna be part of it too :3

⤷ user861: im confused

⤷ user975: still can’t believe bro reads girl books

user089: anybody is gonna talk about CHARLES LECLERC in the likes???? I see you buddy

⤷ user752: maybe Arthur know things

⤷ user23: HE KNOWS

taylorswift: think I’m perfect for the main role actually 🤓☝🏻

⤷ yourusername: check your dms princess

zendaya: girlfriend 😍 ur so pretty marry me

⤷ tomholland: EXCUSE ME ????

⤷ zendaya: sorry im gay just for HER

⤷ yourusername: I LOVE YOU LOVE OF MY LIFE

⤷ tomholland: I want the ring back

user885: if anybody cares i would like to see chris evans and scarlett johanson *like by yourusername*

⋆˚࿔ TO BE CONTINUED 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

tag list: @a-beaverhausen , @annaluna12 , @thehoplessromanticclub , @emryb , @hadids-world , @kaztheemyth , @freyathehuntress , @diorbrxtz , @theseerbetweenus , @sie17136 , @leila-030304 , @charlesgirl16 , @ricciardosheart , @weekendlusting , @flowerpotterr , @aundercover ,

don’t forget to like, reblog or comment! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together)

[theegyal]

FADED, (SMOKE X ANNIE) SINNERS FANFICTION

I’m sorry for the wait ! To apologize I wrote down y’all, the best smut I can do (I’m very bad at it 😂), flustering every time

WARNING : Smut, angst.

CHAPTER 10

Stack pressed both hands to the wound, but it still pulsed out, fresh and warm, soaking through Lottie's dress and into his palms.

He lifted her up, arms beneath her shoulders, head lolling back like a broken doll, and staggered up the creakin' basement stairs.

Sammie, bless his fast feet, had already taken the truck, settin' off to get Annie home.

Obedient and a pretty smart boy ! but now Stack was stuck, desperation clawing at his throat.

"Damn, nigga  gimme them keys! Where that car at?"  he bellowed.

Smoke came into view then, eyes widening like saucers when he saw his brother cradlin' Lottie, her face wearing a ghostly mask.

"Shit" Smoke cursed.

"We gotta move her, man," Stack rasped, his voice cracking around the edges. "Now!"

Charlotte's face had lost all its color, lips tinged blue like a winter sky. Her curls clung to her skin, drenched with sweat, and her chest was hitching — ragged, shallow breaths that barely stirred her ribcage.

A cold dread settled in Stack's gut.

"She need a doctor," Stack said, the words heavy with an anxiety he often hide behind his goofy jolly mask.

"Ain't no white hospital touchin' her," Smoke nodded, his gaze distant, already thinkin'.

"But Doc Harlan, he still out by that old chicken road, 'hind the church."

"We best go now." The urgency in Stack's voice left no room for argument.

The sun, a burning eye in the sky, shone bright as Annie finally arrived home, letting out a loud, shuddering sigh.

She felt a knot of anxious dread tightened in her stomach, a feeling she couldn't explain, couldn't shake.

She ran inside, flinging open the windows, letting the warm, thick air flow through the small house. She walked up to her shrine and whispered prayers, lighting three black candles and the sweet, cleansing sage incense.

Kneeling, her hands pressed together, she began to pray. Her thoughts wandered, but no matter how far they strayed, she couldn't chase away the odd, terrifying intuition she bore about Charlotte. It clung to her, stressing her with a cold embrace.

She bowed her head deeper, trying to hush her own fear, to quiet the frantic beat of her heart. But no words, no prayer, could silence the image flashing behind her eyelids: Charlotte, somewhere, her breath catching, blood on her hands.

Hours bled into one another, the light outside fading to a deep twilight, before Smoke finally arrived. He entered the wooden house without hesitation, the door sighing shut behind him.

Annie was still on her knees, head dropped on the table, lost to sleep.

Smoke reached out, caressing her arm, trying to softly wake her. But she didn't flinch a bone.

He looked around for a moment, the quiet reverence of the room unfamiliar, almost unsettling. He'd never held much credit to occultism, in gods, or whoever else was above. Even going to church felt like a bother to him.

He crushed his cigarette across the window frame, the small, angry sound loud in the stillness. Then, he went low, just at Annie's size, and gently scaled her up, right to the bed, laying her down with  tenderness.

Annie lay still, a sunny wind blowing through the window. As Smoke reached for a blanket, his eyes suddenly met a broken doll, tucked away to the left, beneath the bed.

He didn't need anyone to tell him who the strange thing belonged to. He knew it. He was the one who had crafted it for her, after all. Smoke grabbed the doll, a mournful smile etched on his face. Demons weren't truly outside; they lived within.

He couldn't even say her name, the one who returned to ashes before her tiny eyes could even glimpse the sunlight.

"Power," He sucked his teeth. "Damn power, little mama. If only Papa had it right before—"

Smoke dared not finish his monologue. He cut it short to fight the reckless tears that threatened to roll down.

He never cried.

Not years ago, when he saw Annie devastated, creeping on the floor, holding the cold, frigid body of their newborn.

Not when he witnessed her becoming hollow, conjuring curses he knew never existed.

Not when he abandoned her, let her mourn alone, cast away from everyone.

Not even when he got back from Chicago, imposing his new presence in her life.

So why in hell was this cheap-ass toy unraveling him now?

Again, this voice in his head whispered, caressing his hands, laughing.

Taken by slight spasms, Smoke bolted out of the shelter, taking his daughter's piece with him. The night had been long and torturous. And maybe, only this morning, he would allow himself to be weak.

Facing the stone grave, Smoke pulled down the doll, then shrieked. He was falling apart when and where nobody could see nor hear him.

"Ha—Huh," he blubbered, snot rolling down his nose like a child.

For once, he didn't want to be Smoke. He wanted to be Elijah.

What the fuck had Iraq taught him? Was being a dog for the Italian mob worthy?

"Elijah?"

A déjà vu.

Smoke sniffled, cleaning his face but not facing the woman who had been woken up.

Did he have the right to say it? After muting his pain, shutting hers down like their own blood didn't mean a thing? Did he have the right to need it? After believing for years that their daughter's death was her fault?

"Shit. I need my baby back Annie," he bawled.

Stack drove off to Doc Harlan. The ride was a blur of dust and shadows, the old Ford rattling and groaning like a dying man. Stack pushed it, the tires spitting gravel on the unpaved road, each bump a fresh jolt of agony for Lottie, whose head still lolled against his arm.

He could feel her getting colder, lighter, and a raw panic began to claw at his chest.

"Just wait a second Lottie — M'kay sunshine ?" He whimpered.

Finally, the dim, flickering light of Doc Harlan's small, ramshackle cabin appeared through the trees. It sat hunched, almost hidden, behind the skeletal remains of an old chicken coop, a whisper of smoke curling from its crooked chimney.

Stack slammed the car to a halt, the engine coughing protest, and without waiting for it to die, he flung open the door.

He stumbled out, Lottie still in his arms, and pounded on the cabin door. A long moment passed, stretched thin by his fear, before the door creaked open.

Doc Harlan, a wiry man with tired eyes and a face etched with the hard lines made by Cronus harsh tricks appeared. He took one look at Lottie, her face uncolored, still in Stack's arms, and his eyes widened.

"Lord have mercy," the old doctor breathed, stepping back to let them in. "Bring her on in, son. Quickly now."

Stack carried Lottie through the small, dimly lit room, the air thick with the smell of old medicine and rot. He laid her carefully on the narrow cot in the corner, her body seeming almost too fragile against the coarse blanket.

Doc Harlan was already moving, his hands surprisingly quick for an old man, pulling instruments from a worn leather bag.

"Hol' on uncle, wut is that ? You sure good huh ?" Stack stormed, a little bit too loud

Harlan, did not pay him much attention.

The silence in the cabin was broken only by the rustle of the doctor's movements and Lottie's faint, desperate gasps for air.

Stack stood over her, helpless, his hands still sticky with her blood, watching, waiting, praying for a miracle he wasn't sure would come.

" Lottie-ass shit." He breathed affectionately "ain't you gotta have to beat the fuck outta me ?"  Stack continued, shuddering, his hands trembling.

He closed his eyes, memories flashing by. Yesterday was such a nightmare and Stack hated it. What he despised the most were unexpected events.

He should have convince her to get back home with Annie

"Shitty ass gri-gri" he pestered, imitating his old aunt accent while touching the mojo  bag around his neck "can't save yo own creator huh ?"

"Damn. That boy, can't just hush for once huh" Doc Harlan grated out. "Pull out this basin fa me" the old man pointed "gonna bawl later, son"

In other circumstances, that old man would have been dead, bullet in the head. But this time, Stack understood he needed to get low.

He raced to the cabin corner, yanked the basin out of it place.

"Tch." He said giving the water filling recipient to the doctor.

"Elias" the old man started, seriously " boy, ain't no time for no cussin' and carryin' on. Just stand back and let me see 'bout this."

Stack recoiled a bit, leaving space so the traditional life savior can slash open the woman flesh.

"Aight. Hm. Hm." The gray-haired man started, quieter now. "Ain't lookin' good, pretty boy. Your lady prolly' ain't gonna make it."

The twin heart skipped a strong beat, pounding hard and faster in his cage. Not only because he call his childhood friend, his lady but mostly because Stack couldn't tell if the doc spoke truth or woe.

Dejected, he approached the motionless, gory body of Charlotte, anger and torment tearing his gut out...

"AH. That's wut I'd say if I wasn't the best doc 'round here" Harlan laughed frantically, showing off the bullet he stirred out from Lottie's abdomen.

Stack sank down hard onto the wooden creaking floor, the weight of it like a release—everything crashing down all at once. He clutched his hand—full of Lottie's blood— deep in his pocket. Pulling out a cigarette, he brought it to his lips, fingers trembling, ready to light it.

Before he could strike the match, the doc's voice cut through.

"Hell nah, Son ! Betta not doin' that here. Ain't yo mama teach you respect ?"

Stack shot him a hard glare, then cracked a smirk, eyes glinting with something mysterious.

"You sure an odd one. Would've killed yo' ass on spot if I wasn't too damn jolly right now. Don't joke 'round like that again, tho. We never know what can happen."

"A child ? You want a child, Elijah...?"

Annie reacted to Smoke pleading lament.

" Ain't want no fucking child. I want—" he mumbled.

She flew over, catching him in her large embrace.

Smoke didn't resist. He collapsed into her like a man drowning into shore. His face buried in the crook of her neck, tears soaking into the old cotton of her yesterday's blue dress. He held onto her waist like a lifeline.

They stayed there, tangled in sorrow, in memory, in everything they never said — never dared to — As if the hellish descends they experienced that night, gave them courage to talk of the unspoken.

The wind picked up behind them, rustling the dry grass by the stone, shaking the sycamore tree that cast shadows over their daughter's grave.

"I know," Annie whispered, fingers moving through the thick coils at the back of his head. "I know what it cost you to come back."

"I didn't mean to leave," he rasped, voice barely there. "I just couldn't see you like that. I couldn't accept  her fate. I still can't  even say her name, Annie."

His eyes were red now, nose running, lips trembling like a boy abandoned in a park late night.

"Don't know how to carry her without hurtin'," he admitted. "Don't know how to love you without failin'." The man shattered before clutching his teeths

"Fuckin dollars — power, I fucking wanted all of them. Now I have nothing left— we have nothing left"

Smoke stared at his woman for a while, scanning her from head to toes. Then, out of blue he said — as if he wanted to shift the mood.

"Follow me"

Smoke took her hand gentle-like, fingers rough , and led her to the back door of her Cabin, where the cool morning air wrapped

Around 'em like a soft, worn quilt. The sun was  beating hot across the Mississippi Delta sky, soft gold spilling through the leaves and catching on Annie's curves.

He stopped by the old outdoor shower, a weathered wooden frame with rusted pipe, water dripping slow onto the cracked concrete slab.

"Oh. So Peeping Tom wanna redo the experience huh" she said jokingly

"Shut it, woman" Smoke replied, grinning

Their tormented emotions had successfully been shifted.

Smoke turned the valve, and a trickle of cool water splashed down.

"Come on, Annie," he said "Let me wash all that night offa you."

She didn't argue, the man wanted to move out from their heavy conversation and stopping him was not in Annie's mind.

She rolled her eyes joyfully, then started undressing. The blue dress cloth stinking on her skin, was unbearable enough for her to take a full shower.

The man did not take his eyes off her, admiring her curves, hypnotized like the first time he laid eyes on her.

Annie faced him, seconds before stepping totally under the water's pressure.

Her swollen nipples hardened to Smoke's eyes goggling her whole. The Cajun woman wanted to remain still eternally.

He already saw the ugly scars on her back, however she refused owe him explanation about these. It was painful enough.

The last tray of dress fabric landed with a soft thud on the wet ground.

Smoke grabbed her by the shoulder gently, pulling her fully under the cool, rushing water. Annie gasped, the sudden shock making her shiver, but she didn't flipped back.

He reached for a bar of homemade, earthy-scented soap, working it into a rich lather between his large, capable palms before drenching the sponge.

He began to wash her, starting with her world weightlifting shoulders, working down her beautiful fluffy arms. His touch was desirably hesitant, as if he feared his touch might shatter her further.

Smoke's strokes drifted around her rounded chest, the rough strings of the sponge tracing circles around her brown nipples before his hands glided leisurely between them.

He brushed the strings against her smooth skin, racing down her belly which he cradled with exquisite care. Annie shivered, a flush of heat rising to her head.

Smoke gradually neared her pussy, and then, with a soft splash, the string-made sponge was abandoned on the ground.

"I can—I can wash here myself. It must—"

The twin shut down her complain, his moisturized fingers stroking between her fuller outer lips, then tracing the smaller, inner ones with heat. He touched, intertwined them, sensing the subtle flow of her own juices—the taste he always yearned for.

Guiding himself, he slid smoothly, for she was already wet. Smoke penetrated two fingers in her vagina,stroking slowly, up and down, then with increasing urgency.

Suddenly, he stopped, causing Annie to turn, her breath catching.

"You—" she started, but the words died in her throat as he provocatively and slickly licked his fingers, swallowing, and coating them with his own saliva.

"I butchered Dem all Bastards, Mama." Smoke groaned, slowly releasing out his wet fingers from his mouth. He arched a brown suggestively and begged "Did Eli earned a reward ?"

She immediately understood whom he was referring to. The KKK members.

Damn shit. He didn't need to say it with this tone though...

His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, met hers. He didn't move, just held her gaze, the water rushing around them, the air thick with sweat, desire, a divine sexual urge and the raw aftermath of his deeds.

Annie's heart pounded strong against her ribs. The sudden shift in his demeanor, from a tender lover to demanding brat, was disorienting, yet it stirred something deep within her. It was always the other way around with Smoke. Annie always been the submissive one. But, right now, uncontrollably she wanted to take the lead, teasing him, blasting the fire he lit.

He waited, unmoving, for her answer. She knew what he wanted, what he was asking for. He begged for her, he was starved of the pleasure her body only can offer him.

Annie felt a primitive urge take over. Why the wait ? Smoke was already tense, his cock threatening to aggressively blow up his pant.

Her body moved on its own. She bent at the waist, her head dipping, her spine arching, offering him the paradise's sight he craved for.

Smoke was aching and seeing the picture in front of him didn't help his case.

Annie was bent over, her hands steadying against the wooden tiles, eyes adorably hazy yet her lips stretched in a succubus' grin.

"Don't you dare look at it." She purred, her pulling one hand at her right ass cheek, spreading it wide before releasing it in a clap sound "Huh-huh, ain't your birthday yet Eli. Why yo wanna taste it ?" She repeated the same movement "Mama ain't like it boy..."

"Shit ain't funny Annie—" Smoke dangerously said, his swollen dick clamping under.

"But — you say, you wanted a gift ?" She continued, looking at him straight while pulling her two fingers inside her cunt.

Moaning obscenely, her face turned into a mask he never imagined her wearing, Annie couldn't help but play with herself, again and again.

Smoke was fighting the urge to let his eyes wander close to her dripping pussy, crafted like a peony. He started to stroke himself through his wet trousers, a slow, deliberate movement that mirrored her teasing. The air grew thick with their silent negotiation, the scent of sex and damp wood filling the space.

"You— can't look..."She paused, her fingers still dancing within her.

"Until you beg for it, like a good boy" a wicked gleam entered her eyes, daring him, pushing him to the edge.

He watched her, his own strokes becoming more frantic, the sound of his skin against the wet fabric, a rhythmic counterpoint to her moans. His jaw clenched, every muscle in his body taut with restraint.

He wanted to reach for her, to pull her back against him and claim what she was so brazenly offering, but her game held him captive.

Then, with a sudden, fluid movement, Annie arched her back deeper, her hips rising.

"Come show mama how much you want her cookie" she whispered authoritatively

She never had to command twice, in a flashlight, Smoke ended up on his knees, dropping his warm tongue on her wet clitoris. He drowned his mouthful tentacle into her, twitching every inch of skin, corner, suckin the tip of her button.

"HA—-Yes fuck, papa— yes Hmm"

Overwhelmed with pleasure, Annie unconsciously wiggled her fat ass cheeks on his face, pulling his head closer to her pussy, Smoke nose smelling her feminine scent

"Kinda hate bein' hit Annie. But with those ? Choke the hella o'me"  he groaned his mouth already watering for more of  her.

In a swift, skillful motion, he freed his throbbing, swollen cock from his wet pants, bringing it into the cool air, stroking it now in full view, close to her glistening pussy.

Without warning, Annie squatted down onto his face, making him gulp down all her juice. His breath hitched as her hot, slick pussy enveloped his nose and mouth, the sudden pressure almost suffocating, utterly overwhelming.

“You kinda good sugar ? It’s papa time now”

Annie gulped, he gaze lowering between Smoke’s thighs, gazing at his hard as stone tool.

The man stood behind her, a tight grip on her ass, then penetrated her profoundly. His dick stroked hard in his cunt for three and more pounds before he hit climax, filling her with his semen.

“Huh—huh” Annie breathed heavily, happily.

They let the waterfall drench their bodies now intertwined with each other.

Smoke was the one heading out, towel around his waist.

“Oh— Eli have you been a good boy now ?” The young twin appears moaning

Sigh. Stack.

The older just rolled his eyes and stepped inside the house.

Tag list : @bigjh ; @boonoonoonus ; @saralance03 ; @stormynovashambler ; @lsc72 ; @prettyisasprettydoes1306 ; @unholyxthoughts ; @lizbehave ; @tadjoa @queenofklonnie22 @katezy2x @m0netm0netxo12 @prettygirl2800 ; @thefutureemmywinner ; @atomicearthquakemusic7 ; @thelifeoflagab @irefusetobeacasualty @anafricandaydreamer, @thevelvetwhispers, @marley-444

POV : Annie when smoke said “it’s papa time now”